Gordon Lish - Collected Fictions

By thunder, the knave, see him sitting back down in the same seat when he lets me have it — nicks his eye at me, like gunfire, just this once— pow! Then screws out his folded-up papers, this little stubby nub of a pencil of his, making, for my money, a great faking show of the thing, the filthy fucking Chink.

Oh, let's not beat around the bush, the yig was Writing Secret Stuff —isn't it high time everybody quits all this shit and says what he thinks he means?

But here's the thing — which was he, doing what he did? — villainous traitor or villainous savior?

Because you can see how it could go either way, answer either claim.

At any rate, it was a local, as I said.

Or if I didn't say it — hadn't! — then I just did.

Forget it.

What we have to deal with is its next being Thirty-third. This means — go ahead and count them off for yourself — nine to get the Euher out and get the Thompson on, nine to get the Thompson on and fire once, nine to have fired once and get the Thompson off, nine to do what page 217 is waiting for you to do and then to get everything back up back in again up in under your coat.

Which is biggish for you, and loose.

A part of speech — oh, Christ!

MY SISTER SAYS, "It's Daddy. It's about Daddy."

My mother gets on and says, "Don't cry. He will be all right. Please God in heaven, God is taking him into his loving embrace right this very minute and that the man will be all right."

My sister gets back on and says, "Daddy just went a little while ago. Daddy is gone."

My mother gets on and says, "I can't talk. You think I can talk? Don't make me talk."

My sister gets back on and says, "So make up your mind, are you coming or not?"

My mother gets on and says, "No one could begin to tell you. You turn around and the man is gone."

My sister gets on and says, "We have to have your answer. So which is it, are you coming or not?"

My mother gets on and says, "Like that." My mother says, "Just like that." My mother says, "You couldn't believe it." My mother says, "I couldn't believe it." My mother says, "You blink an eye and that's that." My mother says, "Did you hear me, were you listening to me?" My mother says, "You blink an eye and it's goodbye and good luck."

My sister gets back on and says, "Now is when you have to decide. Not next year, not tomorrow, not after we hang up. Do you understand what I am saying to you? I am saying now, make up your mind right this minute now while we are sitting here talking to you because we do not have all day to wait around for you for you to decide."

My mother says, "There wasn't an instant when I didn't expect it, not for years was there a single instant when I didn't expect it. But you think it still didn't come to me as a surprise? I want you to know something — it came to me as a surprise. I can't breathe, that's how much it came to me as a surprise."

My sister gets on and says, "Do you realize we have to make plans? So what are we supposed to do if we don't know how to plan because we don't know if we're supposed to plan for you to come down or not?" My sister says, "Be reasonable for once in your life and tell me do we plan for you to come or do we go ahead and not make plans?"

My mother says, "My head never once touched the pillow when I didn't expect to wake up with the unmentionable staring me right in the face." My mother says, "I want you to hear me say something — all of my life with that man I had to sleep with one eye open." My mother says, "Did you hear me say that? Did you hear what I said?" My mother says, "Please God that God is listening, because I as the man's wife never got a moment's rest."

My sister says, "Make up your mind. Are you making up your mind? Here, speak to Mother, tell Mother. Mother wants to know if your mind is made up."

My mother gets back on and says, "Talk to your sister. I can't talk."

My sister says, "So is it yes or is it no?"

My mother says, "The man was my husband. For going on sixty years next month, the man was my husband. So were you listening to what I said to you, almost sixty years next month?"

My sister says, "Is it the fare? You need us to help you with the fare?"

My mother says, "You don't have the money to come to your own father when he is dead?"

My sister gets on and says, "We have to make arrangements. We have to make calls."

My mother says, "Do you know what it costs to call from Miami to New York? Do you want for me to tell you what it costs for somebody to call from Miami to New York? Do you think they give you free calls when somebody is dead and you are calling from Miami to New York?"

My sister gets on and says, "Look, no one is saying that this isn't just as much of a blow to you as it is to us. But we can't just sit here and wait all day for you to tell us what, if anything, you are going to decide to do. So once and for all, yes or no, you are coming or not?"

My mother gets back on and says, "Let me make one tiny little suggestion very clear to you — where there is a will, there is a way."

My sister says, "Let bygones be bygones — just say yes or just say no and whichever it is you feel you have to say, we give you our absolute assurance that we will do our very best to completely understand."

My mother says, "Talk to your sister. Your sister's listening to you. Try to make sense."

My sister says, "Don't tell me. Tell your mother. Your mother has a right to hear you express yourself as honestly as you can."

My mother says, "Take this, take this — I don't want to touch it — I can't even breathe yet, let alone pick up a telephone and talk."

My sister says, "You're making her sick. I already gave her a pill and now you are making your mother sick." My sister says, "I'm telling you, the woman has taken all she can take." My sister says, "If I could afford it, you know what?" My sister says, "If I had the wherewithal to do it, if I had the money lying around to do it, you know what?" My sister says, "I would run get a doctor for her even if I had to beg, borrow, and steal to do it for her because the woman should be given a good once-over by a good doctor, hopefully a specialist who is absolutely top-notch." My sister says, "But thank God the woman doesn't need it." My sister says, "Thank God the woman has the strength of a horse." My sister says, "God love her, an ox, a horse."

My mother says, "All his life the man was not a big earner, not a big money-maker. But you know something? The man was good."

My sister says, "Let's be sensible. Let's bury the hatchet and work things out together. Do we plan for you to come down or do we not plan for you to come down? Give me a simple yes or no and we will know how to conduct our affairs after we have to hang up."

My mother says, "I am here to tell you, the man never made a fortune, but you cannot say the man was not too good for his own good."

My sister says, "I don't know how the woman is still standing on her feet. Don't torment her with this. Don't you know that you are tormenting her with this? Stop tormenting your mother."

My mother says, "The man was too good. But do they give you a medal for being too good? Listen to what I am telling you, your father was too good. The man was goodness itself. You know what your father was? Your father was too good for this world, this is what your father was."

My sister says, "I want you to know that I am getting ready to wash my hands of this." My sister says, "Are you waiting for me to hang up?" My sister says, "Is this what you are waiting for, are you just sitting there waiting for us to hang up? Because if you want me to get off, believe me, I can get off."

My mother gets back on and says, "The man was a saint." She says, "Listen to what I said to you, did you hear what I said to you?" My mother says, "Ask anyone — a living saint."