William Gaddis - A Folic Of His Own

— I think we'd prefer the stemware Lily, these glasses aren't…

— God let's not stand on ceremony Teen I'm dying of thirst, Oscar don't sit there growling, look for the, Jerry? Where…

— He's in the kitchen slicing that salmon, shall I go and…

— Just sit still dear, I'm sure he can manage, hasn't she got the most beautiful skin Teen? I'd give simply anything for skin like that, I've seen this cream they sell for hemorrhoids on television I thought it might tighten things up here under the eyes before I have to go back to Doctor Kissinger for another tuck but I'd be frightfully embarrassed buying it I thought Oscar must have some I could borrow, I mean he's just been sitting around here for ages and Pookie stop it! Stop it! stop it! stop it! Dreadful little, did he tear your stocking dear? When you cross your knees with your leg out like that he simply cannot resist, God knows what goes on in his dirty little mind I suppose sooner or later he's got to be spayed but these horrid right to life idiots would come down in a pack, will you see if they put any lemons and capers in there for the salmon? Sheer poetry, look, put it down here Jerry, pale pink salmon served on a chilled white china plate it's perfectly exquisite isn't it. Turn your head dear, turn your face this way, do you see what I mean now, Teen? the same delicate glow on her clear white skin when they talk about being just a little bit pregnant like those French women in the eighteenth century for that glow that comes on the first month or so and then the curettage, it was all Bunker's idea. He thought it would be fun for me to get up in court and say I was just using this awful boy to try out this old French beauty.

secret but Jerry thought it wouldn't go over with this stupid fossil of a judge and Mary in the courtroom right down the hall with her pasty pudding face the perfect picture of a thousand years of Irish Catholic ignorance and that roach Father Stepan not letting her out of his sight while they read the bequest in Mummy's will to my loyal and faithful servant, nurse and friend I give and bequeath the entire contents securities bonds cash and God knows what else in my account with Loeb, Rhoades for her years of unselfish and devoted companionship in my service, his hands were simply trembling to get hold of every penny and if you could have seen their faces, he'd brought along three rapacious lawyers from the Cardinal himself to make sure none of these Peter's pence got spilled on the way to their pockets and you should have seen their faces when Jerry got up and straightened them out tell them, tell them Jerry. The most brilliant stroke you can imagine, Mummy'd had a fight with Loeb, Rhoades and, you tell them.

— Oh no, brilliant? with a smile dazzling in its modesty, — all quite simple, he held the glass he'd been burnishing with a napkin up to the light, — the old woman had had a fight with her broker when she'd told them to sell the minute that October crash came along and they'd taken a week to do it, lost her a few thousand so she moved her account over to a new broker and there was nothing left in the account named in the will but a few hundred in delayed interest payments, so as residual legatee everything in the new account goes right to…

— To me! To me, my God I mean if you could have seen their faces, the blood drained right out of them they stood there like living corpses which of course is exactly what they are and that little roach actually crossed himself, can you imagine? with Mary sitting there all in black fumbling her beads and her eyes red from weeping of course it was gin, I mean even a saint couldn't get through a day with Mummy without putting away a quart washing her and the bedpans and all the rest of it, haven't you got that wine open yet?

— Still it does seem a little harsh Trish, I mean the poor thing…

— We gave her something didn't we Jerry? a thousand or something? I mean my God Teen it's not as though she were a blood relative or anything, I only wanted justice didn't I? Do you think the poor thing would ever have seen a penny in the hands of that little black roach telling her she's a sinner every time she turns around when she's never been offered a stiff proposition in her miserable life till they'd squeezed every cent out of her they hadn't already squeezed out of Mummy? They're monsters Teen, all of them, simply monsters, did you find those capers? and the lemon? It's quite inedible without them. Do I smell something burning?

— You're not smoking one of those things are you Oscar?

— In the kitchen, it's those things I put in the oven to…

— My poor beignets!

— Let them go, old sport. Let them go, gives us a chance to talk. A drop of wine?

— It's too sweet. I don't like it.

— Not a bad year. Of course if you insist on the forty five it can run you twelve hundred a bottle. Never occurred to either of us we'd have a chance to just sit down and have a chat, did it. That's a nice suit.

— What's so nice about it.

— A nice cut, you don't see worsted like that anymore do you.

— Oh. This suit yes, it was made in, had it made in England. Thresher and Glenny.

— Down in Bond Street, they finally went under didn't they? You thought I meant this lawsuit? Can't blame you for being put out old boy, always annoying to lose a lawsuit, isn't it. Good to see you up and about though, that scar of yours healed up nicely didn't it. Hardly notice it.

— Well it's, what about it. That's what you want to chat about?

— No, no your play. Your play, a chance to…

— We've talked about it haven't we? You sat right here and talked about it for one solid day didn't you? You think I want to stand here and listen to all that again?

— All water under the bridge old sport, sit down, do sit down.

— Why. I don't want to sit down, sit down and talk to you about my play? my scar? that ridiculous story you got in there about that oaf in the movie being bitten by a cab driver? Her hand down there unbuttoning his trousers and the whole revolting spectacle, dragging these great themes through the mud just as an excuse to get her up there spreading her legs and pour blood and gore all over the screen? You won the case for your, for those swine, to use your word, you won didn't you? What else do you want.

— Of course I won it. Look, I think you're getting hold of the wrong…

— You got paid didn't you? What else are you asking for.

— Of course I'm being paid, and let's not start that squabble over the professional and the amateur. Afraid I'm getting a little bit impatient myself, old sport, I…

— You're, you? getting impatient with me? Barging in here and, getting impatient I'm the one who's getting impatient with this old sport business and the rest of your, I'm not old and I'm not, I'm certainly not a sport, expect to see me out playing baseball?

— Afraid you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick here. I just wanted to talk about your play. I don't want to talk about your lawsuit. You want to talk about your lawsuit. Find some back street lawyers out looking for business who drum up grounds for a nuisance suit happens every day, get you steamed up over a few similarities and her hands down there unbuttoning his trousers what's all that got to do with your work. You have your play, you've still got your play don't you? I get paid to win a case because it's my job to win, I lose it and I lose my bonus, lose a shot at a partnership, lose a few more and I'm out selling pencils. My clients never claimed to be artists did they? We can't all be artists can we? We don't all have the talents to be poets, writers, most of us just have to be conrent to do the world's work. Boring, repetitive, work anybody can do if they put their minds to it so you've just got to do a better job of it than they do. Nobody can write a better poem than Endymion. There's no such thing. It's unique. That passage in your prologue, when he's met her for the first time out hunting and the pheasant he's shot trying to escape into a stone wall, fighting to flee from what was happening, who else could have written that? The cadence, the poetic anguish of your imagery, we don't all have your gifts do we?