William Gaddis - A Folic Of His Own

She cleared her throat at last, squaring her shoulders back straightening up and clearing her throat sharply as though the deep breath she took were his by some sort of contagion to straighten him up clearing his throat for the words to free them from a spell driven, finally, to break it weakly with her own, to say — Oscar, it's all history now. It's all just, history.

— I've been lied to all my life.

— Oscar? You know that place I went to first up on the highway where they have this urgent medical care in these empty storefronts? and that brought his eyes up warily — you know what I just thought of?

— I don't need urgent med…

— No I don't mean that, there's this new place right next to it like a pet store where they have birds and canaries and these different kind of fish for the home aquarium the sign says, you want to go up there and see?

He stared at her there for a moment, and then — I'm going to have a nap. I'm going into the library and have a nap.

— Have you eaten anything Oscar? or some soup? but he was past them, — Lily where are you going.

— I'm going up there anyway.

— Well get some milk and some butter while you're out will you? Lily? are you all right? Don't you want me to…

— No I'm okay. I just thought maybe this will get his mind off things, you know? and she caught up the coat plunging up the hall, out into the winds wild with rapine from a look at her out there blonde hair flying, skirts branches boughs flung high and wide with no more malice than purpose till they seemed to discover the house itself and join forces to summon sheets of rain descending with a vengeance blowing the pathetic fallacy to shreds for anyone cowered inside fighting to be delivered from things nothing could be done about in sleep or in doing something that something could be done about like the dishes in the kitchen sink and opening a can of soup over the moaning hinges of a loosened shutter and the clatter of a door banging somewhere, of heels down the bare hall and — It's me.

— My God. You're soaked.

— What do you expect? She held up a glassine envelope, — look. — What is it, I don't see anything.

— It's these guppies, they're real tiny so that's why they're only fifteen cents apiece so I got ten of them. — My God.

— Well I mean anyway it's a start, isn't it? and minutes later she was back dripping fistfuls of yellowed water sprite, sodden Ludwigia and despondent fronds of Spatterdock across the kitchen floor, couldn't she do all this somewhere else? get rid of it in the bathroom? as a bucket of algae tinted water came by, just flush it down the toilet? rerouting those that followed past the door of the library where he finally appeared standing there watching them pass as a diverting eye witness episode of flood relief wedged between those of a more intimate nature on the evening news until she set one down at his feet with — you want to help me, Oscar?

— And Lily? from the kitchen, — the milk? and the butter? But she'd forgot them on this consuming mission to get his mind off things and was there another pail someplace? as the bucket brigade came about with each fresh gallon bearing a new lease of life for the goggling eyed tenants where their gigantic new landlord grudgingly restored the basic services of light and aeration, pH balance, filtration and an agreeable temperature sprinkled with krill and daphnia floating down upon them like the manna in the wilderness till another trip up the highway brought in a cohort of discus gleaming turquoise and red and cobalt blue bearing down like the Egyptians before green seafans, shaving brush and a fresh canopy of water sprite beckoned the promised land right down ten centuries to a Crusaders' castle lofting its plastic battlements among the brown flecked young leaves of the Amazon swordplant — so they can hide in there if they want, isn't it cute?

Cute or not, — God knows whether it's getting his mind off things I mean he wanders around the house as though he hasn't got one left, ask him a question and he simply mumbles. Something in the paper this morning I thought would amuse him about that revolting Senator Bilk's campaign seeking the support of the Gay Alliance when that story of his adventure with the transvestite came out? and that Iowa congressman who joined him trying to impeach Father resigning from the House over charges that he's actually illiterate, can't write anything but his name and reads at the second grade level while his loyal staff have carried him through seven straight terms before anyone noticed so he's setting himself up as a political consultant my God how Harry would have loved it, I mean it's almost Dickensian but Oscar simply muttered and asked if the mail had come yet, has it? All I've seen is a letter saying they're going to repossess his new car because he hasn't made the payments and I mean my God we don't need two exactly alike do we? I'd told him I left his in town when I drove Harry's out here and remind me to call the garage and tell them to send someone out with it, they can repossess it and drag that red eyesore that started the whole thing away while they're at it, things look shabby enough around here don't they?

— I think somebody's out there knocking at the door.

— Well let Oscar get it, where is he.

— I think he was in there watching a game show.

— If it's another COD air express delivery of live barracuda will you go and get rid of them? Instead she was back a minute later juggling the tall bulbous pink of a potted amaryllis — for us? Who in God's name would, give me the note on it will you? tearing it open — my God. I mean Bill Peyton? Talked to Harry's dentist and his bill clinches it, insurance people are paying up and I'll keep you informed, thanks a million Bill. Well thank God. I mean it's really quite hideous isn't it? snipping the thick leaves free — but they're quite expensive and of course that's Bill Peyton, send you the most barbarous looking plant in Christendom and it's not even that, I mean I think they're from Africa and that's hardly Christendom but it was probably that dense secretary of his who sends them out to their blue ribbon clients every day and of course, if you stop for a minute and think about it? as another snap of the scissors gave her the chance to do — it's the first civilized gesture I've ever had from him but he's really just putting a pretty face on it for fear of my lawsuit isn't he. I mean that dentist appointment of Harry's has them dead to rights and he couldn't do a damn thing about it even if he wanted to, now what was I talking about. I've had something on my mind since I woke up that's been driving me crazy all day because I can't remember what it is.

— We need to shop for supper.

— Well that's certainly not what woke me up, you haven't run through that cash I put in the towel drawer have you?

— How could I? It's this bunch of hundred dollar bills and all I've used it for was some groceries and his fishes.

— I mean thank God I had my wits about me when those two vultures were going through every drawer in the place, that Masha picking through Harry's Turnbull and Asser shirts where he kept enough cash not to have to bother cashing checks every ten minutes if she got there before I did I'd simply have died. What do you think he wants for supper.

— Oscar? He doesn't care, I already asked him and he just says whatever you're having.

— Well he hardly eats at all so it doesn't really matter does it. Do you think he'd like fish?

— You ask him that and he'll just say he wants big ones.

— Like Al.

— Like, what?

— No I'm sorry Lily that was crude, I thought I was making a joke but…

— No I meant for his tank in there but I didn't tell you, when I just called up my girlfriend from long lines? and she told me Al found out that they caught this woman that stole my purse down at Palm Beach with all my cards and ID and everything so they're holding her for this adultery case he's's got against that shit Kevin. I hope she's black.