William Gaddis: A Folic Of His Own

— Oh Lily come in yes, thank God. Just sit down we're, this child has come out from Harry's office to bring us his…

— Please excuse me yes how do you do, I'd just finished telling Mrs Lutz about my admiration for her husband's handling of his last important case, I believe the only aspect that remains to be unraveled is the effect the merger may have in the Middle East markets and on cola enthusiasts of the Jewish faith but it's hoped they'll let bygones be bygones and feelers have already gone out to the Jews for Jesus who, but I'm afraid I could go on and on and…

— I'm afraid you could too, but you're not going to. I want to know about Harry's life insurance.

— Oh yes, yes I'm afraid I don't know all the details but I heard Mister Peyton speaking about it, he was especially appreciative of your coming up with your husband's dental bill which solved the situation immediately and the entire matter's been settled.

— Well where's the check.

— The check?

— The check for a half million dollars for Harry's life insurance!

— But, but I assume it's been absorbed by the firm, our bookkeepers are sometimes a little slow with…

— What do you mean absorbed by the firm! I'm his wife his, I'm his widow aren't I? He told me he had a half million dollar life insurance policy and I'm…

— But you, I'm afraid you don't understand Mrs Lutz. It was paid to the firm as beneficiary since the firm held the policy and had paid all the premiums in light of his, of how valuable he was to the firm's standing in the profession as a partner and, yes and the tragedy of his loss on the very eve of his…

— Where is the check!

— I think maybe you better just leave, Mister…

— But I, I didn't realize there was any misunderstanding over the, I can't tell you how badly I feel I'd so looked forward to meeting you Mrs Lutz and we wanted to assure you again that the firm will be glad to be of service in these pending matters I spoke of regarding…

— Is this your coat?

— Thank you yes but, but in spite of this little disappointment I wanted to thank Mrs Lutz for her, for my great admiration for her hus, for Harry I should say Harry everyone called him Harry even the secretaries and the, being new there I can't say I knew him well but whenever I saw his tall patrician figure coming down the hall he'd always give me a smile of encourage…

— Harry?

— Yes everyone called him Har…

— My God, Harry? She was looking at him hard — tall, patrician he was stocky with black hair he was no taller than you are!

— He oh, oh I'm sorry again Mrs Lutz he, no. No that's not the Harry I knew.

— The, what did you say?

— He, that he, I said I'm sorry Mrs Lutz. That's not the Harry I knew.

— Lily do something!

— I said you better go didn't I? I said go! slamming the open case at him — now go! Get out of here! Christina? you okay? You want me to get you a drink?

She choked out a whisper over the clatter of the doors echoing down the hall, motionless but for the quiver of a hand caught abruptly in the other and held tight there till she reached it up to seize the glass hovering before her. — He knew it all the time didn't he! she broke out suddenly clearing her throat with the drink, — a pill and a scotch and a pill destroying himself right before my eyes he knew exactly what he was doing. Married to such a brilliant legal mind yes and where is he now! staring fixed at the sheafs of paper tumbled in a heap on the floor there beside the empty chair. — Now what are you doing.

— All these papers, you want me to put them in the library with the…

— Burn them.

— But I thought maybe you wanted to keep them in there with the…

— I said burn them! in a burst that brought her to her feet, turning her back to stand staring out over the pond where the west wind tore its surface in waves toward the ocean, laying the brown grasses flat along its icebound edge as she put her emptied glass on the sill. — What's that on the floor over there under the sideboard, that manila folder it's been there for days.

— That's his last act, he was reading it before and…

— Before what! Just do something with it will you? Laying up his treasure in heaven where moths break through and steal I mean my God, talk about a following shade of care I just got the bill for that cremation they didn't waste any time, twelve hundred seventy one dollars and fifty cents with another hundred fifty nine for the crematory charge and where would I like the remains sent my God, that bookshelf up there with Father and the ashes of this lasting memorial to his prominent place in the legal profession I said burn them didn't I? I thought you were getting me a drink.

— But Christina you just…

— Did you hear me! And some matches? But when the pale drink appeared she was standing at the hearth staring at the papers already ablaze round the edges — who favour fire? But if he had to perish twice that ice was, strip away the poetry and off to the crematory and then some line about desire? or hate?

— It's Frost, Christina.

— What? bringing her round sharply — my God Oscar where have you been!

— You thought it was Yeats Christina. It's Robert Frost. Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've…

— I don't give one damn who it is, how long have you been standing there! catching her balance against the chair — and what's that thing.

— Remember it? this canoe I made from that birch tree down by the pond? I just found it up with my…

— Give it to me! Here, get rid of it will you? flinging an arm toward the fire as he held it closer sitting down slowly, staring at her bent down shaking the smouldering pages aflame — with this mess of the past where it belongs? Immortalizing him in the annals of First Amendment law he knew what he was doing all the time, drawing up our will leaving everything to the survivor, a mortgage on a penthouse that has to be sold to pay it and a half dozen eggs in the…

— Christina?

— A pill and a drink and a pill destroying himself in front of my eyes he knew what he was doing, half a million dollars to prop up the firm's image while I survive on a half dozen…

— But Christina? if you'd died, Christina? his voice abruptly plodding as his logic — and your will left everything to each other, if you'd died first? Then half this house would be Harry's now, it would be half mine and…

— Oscar my God don't be morbid! I didn't die he did and stop looking at me like that, Lily get that napkin and wipe his chin he looks half witted, Harry died and I'm standing right here in front of you with my, where's that drink never mind, I'll get it myself!

— But if you had Christina! echoed after her heels down the hall, — he'd be standing right here in front of me with, he'd be buying my half from me with my own blood money from his senior partner share because I can't buy his half can I? so he can sell it to some west coast millionaire who'll tear it down to build a showplace like that nightmare on the corner where the screaming of the chainsaws suddenly brought him to his feet, to the window where he stood cradling the wrecked canoe, wiping his face with the dry napkins where she stood up close beside him with her shock of loose blonde hair fallen on her beaded forehead and the beading on her lips bare of any trace of lipstick and her fragrance from her blouse loosely buttoned pressed against him, he'd been lied to all his life, just as he'd appeared to triumph with a farce sprung from a lie in a fight to prove his courage by the old man driven back to the earth's remotest border, from his refuge as an immortal offering to share his kingdom, ruler of the North-West wind, the home-wind, the Keewaydin shifting now on the surface of the pond laying low the yellowed grasses where so long ago the birch tree rustling in the breeze of morning laid aside its white skin wrapper as she pressed herself against him in the shadow of the pine trees, made a bed with boughs of hemlock where the squirrel, Adjidaumo, from his ambush in the oak trees watched with eager eyes the lovers, watched him fucking Laughing Water and the rabbit, the Wabasso sat erect upon his haunches, watched him fucking Minnehaha as the birds sang loud and sweetly where the rumble of the trucks drowned the drumming of the pheasant and the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah gave a cry of lamentation from her haunts among the fenlands at the howling of the chainsaws and the screams of the wood chipper for that showplace on the corner promising a whole new order of woodland friends for the treeless landscape, where Thumper the Rabbit and Flower the Skunk