Joseph McElroy - Women and Men

Gustave brave, but freaked by Georgie, who does not know where IMU and bike are located (though he know that what he telling Gustave is boolshit, like that Fuji bikes have self-destruct "nitrate" controlled at company headquarters; bike is a Raleigh anyhow), but now IMU have to ask where did Miss Kimball get it? Georgie tell Gustave he’ll speak to J.B.’s mother, and who is this guy Spence who’s running show, you fuckin’ retard.

Gustave said he almost looked in envelope later going uptown. This would violate policy. These people do not matter; the work matter. The messages and graphics work and other stuff in envelopes, in packages. The client confidence. The cartoon plates. You don’t know what you carry from client to client. You get there in you lanes, you look ahead to obstacles in the lanes, you look ahead to which door is chosen to not open today on this car. You get there, and that’s business. Mother called, got Spence/Santee: he said Jim Banks out on a job, J.B.’s a good man. Mother said, He’s a boy, and Santee/ Spence said, He’s the light of my life.

Who are you? she asked.

Son of Turnstein, replied purchaser-provider of answering machine. Well, I’m worried about his digestion, said mother.

Luisa told Gustave she singing for her father. She sad but all wired up.

1. What was missing? Hopefully the next thing not the last. But bike flow made up for a lot, and gave more than motion, more than power, more than pride: it was giving new thoughts, but no time for them. Find time, then. Messengers all over, but not in organization. Limping, big-necked, lolling-headed, splay-ankled, bobbing real seriously through City that is only partly seen, frowning, splay-eyed, two-handing their big manila envelopes, the delivery package, knowing exact address of destination and shortest distance to it but maybe looking like they don’t know nothing else but mother feeding them their meat and their chocolate milk, their banana pie and spinach and carrots; looking like they got to struggle to hold in their head what bus or subway to take to get there — and first and last employed, employed so long as they’re employed.

Spence asked if log of day’s work was kept — just asking, he said, but he must have noticed that log is now not available in office, but he don’t know it is in J.B. twin-shoulder back-pack as founder of IMU. Why concerned? said Gustave alone in office at end of day after final base-touching run to Turnstein-Wing’s with receipt from other job and Wing did not say anything, not "How come you so slow?" not "What’s going on?" but nothing, not a look. Nothing going on. Turnstein’s twins reading comic books in bunk. Why concerned? said Gustave back at office. Wanted to feel safe. O.K., O.K., said Gustave; but what was safe? knowing for sure which of two subway doors will open so as not to stand in front of wrong one? I was surprised, realizing that I had not been thinking about dual-door problem. Now thinking of surface problems: like when cab in bike lane will suddenly stop to pick up or drop passengers stalling lane, and heavy traffic coming on right. Flow is where it’s at; and flow underground with limp and large jaw became flow by bike which eliminated limp and streamlined the jaw: but security needed — job security now that Maureen went to Florida and mother and social worker do not always use new phone number but call Turnstein-Wing.

m. Cab came close (if you can ride, why walk?) and ran beside bike like they are locked in for good. And it was Santee/Spence — with a man with a mustache and a hat and a sport jacket and muffler; it’s O.K. if you inside, but if you outside in you lane you need you sweatshirt hood up above you coat (why you want to hang on to that old sweatshirt? mother says every morning — next thing she’ll be changing her mind and say, Better try to go to high school after all).

It didn’t matter how Spence/Santee got there beside IMU founder in parallel lane; he just was.

It didn’t matter why Lady Luisa cried; she played piano and sang, and it did not matter what she said about her father, or what she did with envelope she put music and word pages into and held and then handed over, then took back out of Gustave’s hands, then handed over, then wasn’t sure again, then said, "Go." Because what matters is getting the envelope to destination, not why the sender is sending it or how she feels.

Business (again) = building on what is known. Business is a management trip, Miss Kimball said. Manage messages.

Message waiting on answering machine for Santee very slow: "Please. . call. . Mr. . Mr. . Mason . . at" — and a phone number, suddenly known but not quite placed.

Checked in at T&W’s where Santee is out on sidewalk while I’m locking bike down block by garbage cans beside fruit and vegetable place where part-full cigarette carton thrown from third-floor window targets IMU founder’s shoulder turning from bike. Sehora Wing out on sidewalk, may have caught J.B. leaving bike, therefore in possession of (a) bike, but ignored J.B. approach; was she dealing with Santee/Spence? He’s dealing with old man and weird, nice old lady, and gave sign to J.B. like "Let’s talk later, not now."

Old man said, "Gave her a brand-new vibrator in a box." Santee said, "But you told Grace—" "She did all the talking," said the old man.

"But you—"

"Get the hell in here," said Wing to secret founder of IMU, yet seemed to know Santee (what showed it?), so J.B. just managed to hear old lady say, "She knows the Navajo Prince too," and "No; she said something else," the old man said, but Santee said, "She said ‘Navachoor,’ but she thinks she is the Prince partly."

Inside, Turnstein said, "Your mother called. She said I had a new number, but then she said, No she was wrong. Look, if you don’t get a move on, I gotta fire you, Jimmy. What are you doing, pocketing the subway fare and walking?"

Wing looked up, weird. "You take a job from the foundation to another party? — woman name Barbara-Jean Kennedy?" but then Wing didn’t go on with it, while J.B. stammering for first time today wanted to get outa there; and she said, "If you can sit, why stand," and turned the page of her Spanish magazine that had a picture of a tower sticking up out of the ocean on the cover.

n. Upon arrival at his subway stop, Gustave was told by wildman on platform, "Come on outa there." Gustave reported subway motorman told him one of two doors won’t open because when it’s getting too slow, on account of the connection-terminals are faulty, they switch it off.

Santee looked at can of silver paint set down in corner near file cabinet but asked if there was more to machine message from man Mason. Only phone number, IMU founder answered and cootn’t help smiling. Santee said, "You sure?" Yes, J.B. policy. Santee said, "If I thought that. . listen, you didn’t open…"

And then I knew Mason’s phone number; it was on the envelope Gustave carried from Lady Luisa to Chilean consulate and logged on sheet to be added to main IMU log.

Mother said at suppertime, "That Turnstein’s bad news." That was all. She was not asking questions like she used to. Made me take extra Vitamin C for nerves and said I should take a day off, I’m working too hard. She asked was there anything I’m not telling her. "What?" I asked. "How do I know?" she laughed.

Time flies, as mother said, but I didn’t know where it went except into each full day. Felt light coming from behind riding bike down Fifth Avenue. Asked Santee how much answering machine cost — wanted to buy it. He laughed like a friendly fox and said, "Sorry, J.B., it’s priceless. I mean I couldn’t afford to let you have it." He answered phone — our phone, IMU phone — and while he’s talking on phone looked at me and said, "Oh they know something we don’t."