William Gaddis - Carpenter's Gothic

— Well it's right there Paul, it's right there in front of you it's nothing but bills anyway, bills and something from Christian Recovery for, oh wait, wait there's one there for Mister McCandless isn't it? With the beautiful stamp that's all I noticed, from Thailand, it must be…

— I'll take care of it, he muttered thrusting envelopes this way and that, turning them over.

— There it is, I'll just put it…

— Said I'll take care of it! and he turned it face down, planted an elbow on it — now will you just find that God damn phone number? where you wrote it down? Paper tore, — Dan-Ray Adjusters these bastards, look. Be advised that we are not depositing your partial payment check to that God damn Doctor Schak, be advised that we shall instruct his attorney to proceed against you for the full sum plus court costs, interest and look Liz, somebody here named Stumpp he says they're taking you to court for, Liz?

— What she murmured, indistinct, her lips stayed by the blue felt pen she held pressed against them, her dull gaze on the shaggy crested profile of Reverend Elton Ude crowded by headlines BOY DROWNS IN narrowing the clutter, the pen came down — I'm trying to think where I…

— Will you listen to me? Trying to tell you they're taking you to court here, anybody comes to the door don't open it. Stumpp serving a summons on you some seedy process server comes to the door tell them a mile away, some down at the heels hopeless looking bastard they get seven dollars a summons he has to hand it to you, has to touch you with it, see some burnt out case out here on the doorstep you open it and all he says is Mrs Booth? hits you with the paper and that's it, don't open the door. You find that phone number? paper tearing in his hands — there, finally got here didn't you see it? Tell me there's nothing but bills been waiting for my disability check for a week I thought their computer had lost me Liz thought you were on the lookout for it, one God damn thing we can depend on thought you knew that, I thought you knew that Liz… paper tearing, — Doctor Yount. OV fifty dollars who the hell's Doctor Yount.

— That was, nothing no I'm just trying to…

— Think Liz! Think! Where the hell's that number, said you wrote it down someplace… he had the smeared vista of small boats off Eleuthera, waving it — get something going here Christ Liz how the hell can I get anything going if you write down numbers and lose them spend the rest of the day on the phone with Edie? Leave the pad right there by the phone so you can, who else called. Any other calls? Liz?

— A lot of them.

— What?

She kept her eyes down where the pen tip flicked, fluttered blue on the newspaper, widening the vacancy, — Madame Socrate said there were a lot of calls this morning.

— But the, who? Who the…

— Madame Socrate is the woman who came in to clean Paul, the woman you wanted me to get to come in and clean. She said there were a lot of calls this morning but she's Haitian and doesn't speak any English and didn't answer them.

— But she, but why didn't you answer them! What…

— Because I was in New York, Paul… the pen quivered at the paper, — I drove into New York with you this morning do you remember? to see Doctor Kissinger? When I got there he hadn't received my records from Doctor Schak so I went over to Doctor Schak's office, and Doctor Schak was still on vacation, and his nurse his bitchy nurse screamed at me and said they'd sent the records over and she called Doctor Kissinger's office and then she said she hadn't sent them and she would and she couldn't give them to me without Doctor Schak's permission and I went back to…

— Look Liz this has nothing to do with…

— It has to do with me! I went back to see Doctor Kissinger but they said he was leaving for Europe and I could hardly breathe and I made a new appointment and I, I came home I, I got the subway up to the bus and, and came home on the bus.

— Now well look Liz I didn't mean…

— You don't you never do, the whole hideous trip for nothing that subway I could hardly breathe you never do you, Cettie lying there half burned to death you don't even, even…

— Oh Liz, Liz…

She dropped the pen, getting breath, gazing blank at the newspaper picture there, suddenly her chair scraped back, banged the wall. — Where's that bird book, that's where it is yes where is it, here… on the sugar canister where she'd thrust it when she served his plate, she thumbed it through — here… she splayed the pages on red breasted merganser, — here's the number, your Reverend Ude here, I knew I'd written it somewhere.

— Wait… he was already dialing, — Liz?

— I'm going up.

Rounding the newel, — Hey Elton? this you old buddy…? pursued her up the stairs, and down the hall — mysterious ways, now that's for sure… She swept the door behind her with a thrust of her hip, her only light the livid aura of the television screen come to life at her touch with a mantled figure descending into swirls of mist. On the hilltop above sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momently, and she unfastened her skirt, opened her blouse, and was back on the edge of the bed with a damp washcloth. A horse was coming. It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to its tramp, tramp, there came a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees. The horse followed, a tall steed, and on its back a rider, and as she slipped off her blouse man and horse were down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which had glazed the causeway. The dog came bounding back, and seeing his master in a predicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked till the evening hills echoed the sound, which was deep in proportion to his magnitude.

— That's telling them, Elton, came down the hall to her from below, — Jew liberal press… and she was up to get the door closed, back to shy an uncovered breast from the abrupt gaze of Orson Welles enveloped in a riding cloak, fur collared, and steel clasped, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted now demanding to know where she'd come from, just below? do you mean that house with the battlements? pointing to Thornfield Hall, on which the moon cast a hoary gleam, bringing it out distinct and pale from the woods, that, by contrast with the western sky, now seemed one mass of shadow, demanding Whose house is it? Mister Rochester's. Do you know Mister Rochester? No, I have never seen him. Can you tell me where he is? I cannot…

— Liz? She'd pulled up the sheet, working a fingertip along the ridge of her cheekbone from the jar of cream opened on the table as the music swelled lifting him to his saddle, where he reached down demanding his whip. The door slammed open — Liz! Now what in the hell! A touch of a spurred heel made the horse first start and rear, and then bound away; the dog rushed in his traces: all three vanished. He'd turned down the sound, waving the newspaper there in the grey light, — look at it! How could… he came down on the bed, — you just did this? while we were sitting there?

She looked, no more help than the sound she made.

— It's it's, don't need a kid in the house it's like having a kid in the house! Like having a, sitting right there you were sitting right there in front of me with that God damn blue pen look what you did!

— Oh Paul, I didn't mean…

— How the hell could you do it! I've got to file these things Liz I've got to send a copy to Ude! How the hell can I send him a, look at it, shaggy blue feathers these little dots on his shirt make him look like a God damn bird?

— I was only trying to…