William Gaddis - Carpenter's Gothic

He'd crossed an ankle over one knee showing a fine shoe, or what had been, well worn, laced with cracks up the instep. — Twenty years, Mrs Booth?

— Yes well no, no I just meant… He was looking straight at her, she caught the edge of what might almost have become a smile, rattling the cup on the saucer and she raised it, swallowed, — I mean you travel a lot, your work I mean, you have to travel a lot it must be very interesting work and, and exciting wait I'm sorry, I'll get you an ashtray… He'd flicked ashes at the hearth, and she was back to place a clean saucer before him, beside the magazines. — Places like that, she said.

— It's a very old issue, isn't it… He came forward to crush out his cigarette. This piece on the Masai, had she read it?

— Yes it's, I just finished it yes it's fascinating, I mean we subscribe to it but I get so behind… The ring of the phone brought him half out of the chair but she was up again, — No I'll get it… and then, from the kitchen — Mister, Mister McCandless? were you calling Acapulco? What? Hello…? Oh no it's from Edie, yes no but not now operator. I mean could she call again later?

He'd upset his drink when she came back in, standing there over the wet magazines having trouble righting it, trouble it appeared simply getting the glass squared in his hand. — Oh can I help you? what…

— No! It's, it's all right.

— I'm sorry wait… she came with a towel wad from the windows, — it doesn't matter, they're old… wiping down the red ochred hair, the bared teeth and bared chest of the warrior. — He's quite frightening isn't he, looking I mean.

— If you're Bantu.

— If I what?

— They steal cattle. I thought you said you'd read it… He'd paced off to the alcove, turned back to the dining room where he stood looking into the empty corner cupboard there, gripping his glass.

— Oh. Yes it's, I mean sometimes I don't read too carefully… and, up looking where he was looking, — we have some lovely china in storage, some old Quimper I mean it's not really china it would look lovely there but I don't know when she might come for it, Irene I mean? your wife? I mean she has such lovely taste everything, you can see her touch everywhere.

— Want to get this porch painted out here, he said abruptly looking out now at the paint peeling on the columns.

— Yes well we never use it but, I mean if you want to do that for us we'd be…

— I wouldn't be doing it for you Mrs Booth, I'd be doing it for the house… He raised his glass for the last drop in it. — She wanted to take this whole wall out, put in an arch here and glass the whole porch in with all the plants out there, kind of a wintergarden.

— Oh! what a, I mean I've…

— We never did it, he said before he turned away.

— But they're doing marvelously aren't they, the plants I mean I try to keep them watered and…

— That one, up there? I watered it for three months after she was gone before I knew it was plastic.

— But she, for three months? But I thought she'd only been gone for…

— She's been gone for two years Mrs Booth.

The call was for him, — your call to, to Maracaibo is it? the phone unsteady in her hand, and she put it down and came back to the living room, to the alcove windows, as far off as those rooms allowed her, so far she could overhear nothing but — too late… before he came through carrying a soiled manila envelope, pulling on the raincoat, telling her the call wouldn't be charged here, getting the door open.

— But you haven't said where to reach you if anything…

He'd try to call first if he had to come again, pulling the door behind him, sorry to disturb her, and she walked more slowly back to the alcove standing well away. What light the mist had lent substance was failing rapidly down the dark road where the old dog appeared, falling in beside him as he crossed for the sodden bank opposite already losing definition as its leaves lost their colour, and she watched them down together as though they'd followed that dark current down together many times before.

Ashtray, his glass, towel wads and Yount, Kissinger swept up together she came turning on lamps, bent to blow cigarette ash from the table, bent over the trash to bury the doctors deep under bread wrappings, wilted celery, burnt toast, a worn address book she shook free of wet tea leaves before rummaging deeper for a few crumpled envelopes, all of them franked with the insipid postage of her own country, flicking the pages of the address book as she stood. The white cap of the Dewar's bottle had rolled into the sink where she found it, hesitated there with the bottle before she held it under the tap and ran an ounce, two ounces of water into it and then put the cap on, even shaking it a little before she put it back behind the bag of onions.

Up the stairs she paused to run the bath, down the hall undoing her blouse with the worn address book still tight in her hand she'd barely lit the bedroom and slipped off her shoes, barely come down among the papers on the bed bent over the last of them, the cool, grey calm of his eyes belying… her lips moving, when the downstairs toilet flushed.

— Liz? He was already on the stairs. Without pause for the peal of the phone she swept papers and folder together, a stab back for the worn address book and she was standing there selecting a fresh blouse from the bureau's top drawer. — You left the tub running, he came in pulling off his tie, and — why you don't answer the God damn phone, hello…? From where operator…? No, collect call I'm not accepting it no, don't know a God damn soul in Acapulco… he banged it down. — Any calls while I was gone?

— Chick… she stood getting breath slowly, — last night. Somebody called Chick.

— He leave a number?

— He said he didn't have one. He said to tell you he just got out, he'd call you again sometime.

— Nothing from Teakell's office? He had off his jacket, pulling open his shirt — got a car coming for the airport I've got to get down there tonight, flew right over it three hours ago turn right around and go back, have you seen my keys? Liz?

— What.

— I said have you seen my keys look I'm in a hurry, eight a m appointment in Washington they moved up that God damn subpoena I just learned about it, walked out of here without my keys if you weren't here I'd be locked out… He kicked a foot free of his trousers, — walked in just now the front door was open, up here alone I told you to keep it locked you don't know who the hell will walk in, have you seen my keys?

— They're gone Paul. So are mine.

— What do you mean so are mine, they're gone where.

— I found them on the shelf over the bathroom sink and I put them in my purse when I was leaving so they wouldn't get lost and my purse was stolen.

— Your, no come on Liz stolen? He stood over her dressed to the shins where she'd sunk to the corner of the bed, — how the hell could it be stolen, I told you to keep the doors locked didn't I? Walked in just now the front door wide open look, it's here somewhere, take a quick shower while you look for it where did you have it last, think Liz. Think!

— I don't have to think Paul I know. I had it last in the ladies' room at Saks. I hung it on a hook while I was using the toilet, and I looked up and saw a hand reach over the top of the booth and it was gone. By the time I got out there was nobody…

— No but, what the hell were you doing in Saks how could…

— I was using the toilet! I wasn't there buying things like any decent woman shopping they closed the account six months ago, I had some time after the doctor he's near Saks and I went into Saks. I looked at all the things I couldn't buy in Saks and then I went to the toilet, do you wonder how I got home do you care? She jammed the bureau drawer closed passing it for the door, — no purse no money no keys nothing, how I got home? how I even got in?