William Gaddis - A Folic Of His Own

— No, I was only going to…

— Well my God Lily, look at who's out there tearing down the highways at seventy miles an hour, what's appalling's not this mass incineration but that there's not one every five minutes, I mean half of them are functional illiterates the other half are geriatric, arthritic, insomniac, drugged and sedated with crippling headaches, cramps, diarrhea frustration and just plain rage trying to prove something it's just amazing anybody's left alive, Oscar you look like the last roe of shad what are you trying to say.

— Only that he called this morning, that Bill Peyton called before you were up to tell you these insurance company investigators will probably want to talk to you, that they've asked for Harry's medical records and his psychiatric evaluation and the whole…

— And what does he want me to do! her empty cup coming down hard on the saucer, — tell them Harry was relaxed? carefree? happily married? no money worries, just an occasional beer never forgot his own address or left his keys in the door, loved his job and his fellow workers, loyal and true to the firm and ready to go down with the ship?

— It wasn't like that no, no he sounded really concerned like they're doing everything possible to force this claim through, the insurance company's one of their clients they've even got a partner on the board but he said it's a highly regulated industry where there are all these legal constraints so there can't be any grounds for doubt about an improper payment if they think, if anybody thought it was a, that he did it on purpose if some stockholder tried to sue them for…

— Well that's the most, it's ridiculous it's simply ridiculous, I'm the one they're afraid will bring a lawsuit for the stress they put him under driving him round the bend with his caseload and these threats making him liable for their own idiotic mistakes and all the rest of it that would reflect badly on the firm's image and their whole miserable self regulating conspiracy, no. No, they'll put their paid psychiatrist up there swearing that he was unstable and bring in that car accident running that dizzy tramp into a storm drain to show he was a selfdestructive personality with a yen for car crashes and I ordered the cremation to destroy the evidence I told you didn't I? that Bill Peyton and Masha were pulling something? you heard me right here on the phone with her what was she doing digging in his shirt drawer where he kept his cash, in the bathroom going through my cosmetics no, she was probably going through the medicine cabinet looking for Harry's pills, I mean she'd do anything to see me done out of this half million life insurance that's about all he left me with, I told you she was mean as a snake didn't I? Didn't I?

— I just wish you'd stop talking about snakes.

— And I mean it's not even really the money, it's what's right. It's simply what's right that's what Harry always, that's what killed him.

— Christina? his bewildered voice echoing his irresolute struggle half to his feet as though he might have, as though he should have sprung to her rescue with some sort of dubious embrace from the desolation that had come down like a pall with her silence, so alone there hands covering her eyes until she brought them down abruptly exposing him to a stare so vacant he sank back reprieved by the vacancy taken up in the hollow of her voice.

— Where did she go?

— Lily? rescued himself now — to the kitchen? sparked by this diversion — I think she went to the kitchen yes, she…

— I'd never have pictured her taking it this hard would you? She looks like she'd been hit by a train.

— What the, oh. She's upset yes she's been quite upset since we, since she had some bad news, all her hopes about reconciliation with this fool of a father of hers he's just told her he's leaving all his money to this ridiculous church to be reunited with Bobbie on the other side, he's going in for a serious operation and if the Lord calls him to the other side in the midst of it he…

— Oscar! the clatter of a tray breaking in on him with — you want to quit talking about the other side? Here. I made some eggs.

— That was sweet Lily, where are yours.

— I ate already. Oscar I need thirty dollars.

— You, what for, what…

— My God Oscar just give it to her! What business is it of yours, hand me my purse Lily it's right there on the sideboard.

— I have to pay them for this x-ray before they'll tell me what they found there.

— God knows what they'll find for thirty dollars, where on earth did you find them.

— It's this place I just saw up on the highway next to that Chinese restaurant? There's this new sign in this empty storefront that says Urgent Medical Care so I just went in. They do passport photos and chiropractors there too.

— It sounds like a dime store raffle, I mean if you'd waited we could have gone to a proper hospital and here, you'd better take fifty just in case.

— That's the trouble I've waited, they said maybe I've waited too long where they'll have to do this biopsy. They do them there too, you need anything? gone up the hall without waiting for an answer, but here she was again. — Oscar? You better come out here.

Lights flashing red, yellow, red were emerging from the bare trees skirting the driveway like the blind end of some alien juggernaut lumbering inexorably into the open, some vast image out of Spiritus Mundi moving its slow thighs, its bones of iron shuddering convulsively with a grinding of gears as a flatbed truck took shape bearing a naked tenant merrily riding its back like some wounded avatar of the automotive deity celebrating a convalescent visit.

— Wait! he came down waving his arms — what are you doing! where two men were already dismounted unfastening the chains — not there no, you can't leave it there put it, just put it, put it someplace…

— They can put it over in those trees Oscar, so I can get out.

— Over there! Put it over under those trees so we can get out! and the thing heaved into motion again rattling its chains, dropping its tracks, winching the red Sosumi down into a clump of serviceberry bush.

— Christina! he came pounding down the hall — did you see that? and on to the kitchen — where are you! with a passing glimpse into the disheveled sunroom — Christina? back now staring at the silent phone, he picked it up and put it down again muttering — Mohlenhoff, Schriek Mohlenhoff and, no, Prestig? over digging in the litter on the sideboard, envelopes, bills, brochures, folders spilling under his hands still muttering — wig yes, Preswig? but the one that stopped him, lips silently shaping its return Lepidus, Shea & —it's not even opened! he whispered, patting pockets for his glasses till he found them coming down slowly on the sofa and tearing it open like a man with an appetite, turning each page more quickly as though to wipe away the taste of the one before it, moistening his lips against the searing bite of each paragraph until the last leaving him sitting there with his burning mouth agape, only to suck in his breath like some cooling draft and start again with the first pungent savoury, rehearsing each course more slowly as those spiced with figures caught him gasping for breath finally getting to his feet as empty as he'd sat down and beginning to pace the room, tapping the scrolled pages against his thigh like the menu of some Barmecidal feast standing there at the window staring vacantly out over the pond.

— Well? What are you going to do about it.

— What? he turned as though seized from behind — about what! I've been calling you where have you been.

— You needn't be upset, I went out for a little fresh air and I don't want that old car on this property, things look shabby enough around here. What are you going to do about it.