David Gates - Jernigan

I pushed the bottom buzzer and Uncle Fred’s electric voice barked, “Stand and give the password.”

What was it I’d said before? It would be just like Uncle Fred to give me a bunch of shit before he got around to buzzing me in. Couldn’t remember. “I don’t know,” I said. “Allen Ludden.”

The thing buzzed and as I got the door open I heard him barking, “I’m sorry. Allen Ludden is dead.”

I stopped on the second-floor landing to get my breath. In addition to everything else, I thought, you really better try to do something about the shape you’re in physically. I patted my coat pocket to make sure I had car keys, and remembered I hadn’t brought anything the way you were supposed to no matter what they said. Well, look, they said not to and you didn’t, so really how wrong could that be?

Uncle Fred was waiting at the top of the murky stairs, standing in his open door, through which light was streaming. That corny effect where it slants through dustmotes. “Old Jernigan,” he said, giving me a one-armed lateral hug. “Income.” Uncle Fred had been saying “Income” for twenty years. From psychedelic sabotage of language to annoying mannerism to something you could count on.

3

Uncle Fred brandished a platter of tortillas backhanded, as you would a frisbee. “Better have some more eggs ranchers,” he said.

I waved it away. “Please,” I said, meaning Please, no more .

“Little more of the old Maria sangriente?” Uncle Fred was now a person whose wife served brunch.

I shrugged, and with my right hand twisted my left forearm.

“I thought as much,” he said. “Penny, ma chère . Would you be so kind?”

“You guys,” said Penny, getting up. “I’m going to go hide the lampshades.”

“Hell, better hide your dresses too,” he said. “No telling how merry this is gonna get. But first.” He snapped his fingers twice.

She curtsied, holding out an imaginary skirt, then opening her fingers to let it fall back against her blue jeans. “He’s actually pussy-whipped,” she said, screening her mouth with the back of her hand. “I just do this so I won’t look like a castrating bitch in front of company.”

“Enough girlish prattle, dear,” said Uncle Fred. “You’ll charm us another time.”

She went into the kitchen and came back agitating a cocktail shaker full of something red, but using only her wrists so as not to drop the bottle of Absolut under her arm. The shaker was decorated with tilted martini glasses and modernistic boomerangs. “Here,” she said. “I’m just going to leave you boys the wherewithal. I’ve got to work for a couple of hours or I’m going to be in terrible shape tomorrow. You can talk about broads while I’m in there. Mikey, you’ll clean up, won’t you?”

“Don’ worr’,” he said. “Zio Federico take care ev’ryt’ing.”

“Thanks, Penny,” I said. “It was delicious.”

“You know you’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Let me think about that. Right now, the very idea.” I patted my stomach.

“It’s taken us so long to get you here,” she said, “that we’re not going to let you go without a struggle. Mikey, why don’t you just get him too drunk to drive?”

“There’s a thought,” he said.

“Ciao for now,” she said, wiggling her fingers goodbye.

When she was gone, I said, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

Uncle Fred thought about that. “Yes,” he said.

“You know, I actually like the dining table in here,” I said. “Cozier.” Since the last time I’d been here, Penny had taken the dining room for workspace. Now they ate in a corner of the living room.

“Yeah, I think so too,” he said. He mashed his last few crumbs of scrambled egg into the tines of his fork and ate them. “So what did you really do to your hand?”

“I told you,” I said. “It’s a gunshot wound.”

“Christ, it probably is,” he said. “Fucking crazy bastard.” He lifted the vodka in one hand and the shaker in the other. Those proportions seemed about right.

“Half and half,” I said. He mixed one for me and a weaker one for himself.

“Ice?”

I shook my head. “I try to stay away from that shit,” I said. “Turns to water on you.”

“Hear hear,” he said. He tasted his. “Hmm,” he said. “Not too shabby. So tell me about this Glendora. Did you get lucky?”

“Not particularly,” I said.

We both waited.

“Tell Uncle Fred,” he said. “That is, if you’re in the mood for it.”

“It’s not all that interesting,” I said.

“Fuck a bunch of interesting,” he said. “Is this thing ongoing? Offgoing? On-and-offgoing?”

“As of today,” I said, “I guess it’s ongoing.”

“Although you’re not too happy about it.”

“How does he know these things?” I asked the ceiling.

We waited again.

“So,” he said. “Who do you like for the Super Bowl?”

“It’s a real mess,” I said.

“Who is this person, anyway?”

“Well, see,” I said, “originally Danny was going out with her daughter and he was spending a lot of time over at their house. And they decided, I guess, the kids did, to introduce us. Because she was divorced, and I was, you know, whatever I was.” Widowed. “Which was actually pretty irresponsible, that she and I hadn’t even talked on the phone when the two kids were spending so much time, but I guess you get busy and stuff. At any rate, long story short I ended up with the mother, and now we’re all, like, there.”

“Hmm,” he said.

“Sounds a little weird to you?”

“No,” he said. “No, I’m just sitting here being nonjudgmental.”

“Funny,” I said, “I could’ve sworn you thought it was a little weird.”

“So is it?”

“It’s getting there,” I said.

“Hmm,” he said. “Can you get out? Is that an option? That is, it’s obviously an option , but is it something you’re seriously thinking about?”

“Problems with that too,” I said.

“Danny and the girl.”

“Among others,” I said.

“Do you like this woman?” he said. “She have a name, by the way?”

“Martha,” I said. I thought a little and said, “I guess not really. I mean, I should.”

“Well, then it’s simple, no? Rule One: Don’t be with somebody you don’t want to be with. Bad for you and bad for them. Right? Fuck a bunch of should.”

“Right,” I said.

“Do you think she loves you?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “She’s, I don’t know … Anxious to please.”

“Except you’re not pleased.”

“When did you ever know me to be pleased?” I said.

“There’s that,” he said. He took a sip of his Bloody Mary. Then he set it down and said, “Nevertheless.”

“Look, Danny’s only got another two years of school,” I said. “Year and a half. Then he’ll be off to college or something, and then who knows. In the meantime—”

“In the meantime you’re going to rot yourself,” he said. “Or is that too harsh?”

I took a good gulp of Bloody Mary.

“I’m not trying to be Mr. Work Ethic here,” said Uncle Fred, “but what do you do all day?”

I shook my head. “Think and get into trouble,” I said.

“Your?” he said.

“I do watch some television,” I said.

“I’ll bet,” said Uncle Fred. “You have the money to move someplace else, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sort of. Not really.”

“Like to clarify that a little for the folks back home?”