William Gaddis - Carpenter's Gothic

— Oh I didn't, come in yes I'm afraid it's all a little disorganized if you, I mean is it about the furniture?

— About what furniture.

— No I just meant about all the furniture, if you've come to, oh oh the flowers yes… looking there where the woman was looking, — I'm sorry, they got knocked over I just haven't had time to clean up but they're all right I think, I think it's only the vase that's broken we'll replace it but, I mean do you want to take them?

— Take them? The woman looked at the wilted silk, the spatter of porcelain on the floor. — Take them where.

— No I just meant, with you, I mean if you'd like to sit down? If you'd like some tea?

— Thank you. I would, yes, I'm really quite tired… but she came following on into the kitchen. — I really just stopped to see if he'd heard anything from Jack.

— Oh. I don't know. I mean I don't know Jack, who Jack is.

— Jack? Jack is his son.

— His… she half turned from filling the tea kettle, — but I thought, he said he didn't have children.

— Children, no. That's the way he'd say it of course, he doesn't have children… The woman was over looking into the dining room, at the plants there in the windows, — no other white ones that I know of, at any rate… and she drifted back into the kitchen, past the table there, to stand in the doorway looking into the room. — Quite a mess.

— Yes he, he's just been cleaning up, in there cleaning up.

— That's really all he ever does, isn't it… and, a step into the room, — and it's always once for all isn't it, to get things cleaned up once for all… out or sight, only a voice now from the near darkness in there — all his books, what he'll do with all his books they might as well go too, once for all. He probably hasn't looked into one of them since he stopped teaching, has he.

— I don't, teaching? I didn't know…

— And he's throwing this out too? this old zebra skin?

— Well he, I don't think so I mean he brought it back from Africa, I don't think he'd…

— He told you that?

— Well yes, I mean I think so, I…

— No no no, he bought it from a young Nigerian who was emptying bedpans in the hospital, he'd come over here to study medicine and brought a whole stack of them to pay for medical school. A hundred dollars, he gave the boy a hundred dollars for it and I was quite annoyed, a hundred dollars was a lot to us then. He'd just come out of the hospital and there were still all the bills.

The empty cup rattled its saucer in a tremble of her hand putting it down on the table where she reached for the light. — Was it, what kind of hospital… She put down the other cup. A wisp of steam came from the teakettle, and she reached for it carefully — I mean, it wasn't a…

— He's probably told you all those stories hasn't he, came through the dark doorway, — finding gold when he was Jack's age and nobody believed him? up above the Limpopo? It was always up above the Limpopo… and a sound as though she'd stumbled over something in there. — Or that boy he taught how to use a shovel?

— Do you need a light in there? It's over…

— No no no, just a look around… stepping over the newspapers flung on the floor there — he'll save anything, won't he… and coming out into the light — you can tell he's been in there can't you, the smoke, it clings for ages. And if you know that cough… She sat down and turned the cup's handle to her. — He doesn't much like getting old, does he.

— I hadn't really…

— That arthritis in his hands, it's been there since he was thirty. Like his father… she sipped at the steaming cup. — If you'd seen how he acted when he lost those teeth in the front, good God it was like they'd taken his balls all that Freudian stuff, you know, but it was a shock getting used to. He's not one for smiling much is he, but when you've been used to that broken grey Protestant smile and suddenly here's this row of neat even white teeth? That was just before he met you, the same Freudian stuff I guess… she picked up the cup, — because you're young. Just to prove he still had them.

— But I don't…

— And I don't mean his teeth.

— I don't quite, I mean I didn't know you'd be old enough, to have a son twenty five I mean.

— I didn't know you'd have red hair the woman said, looking at her all appraisal as she'd looked over the living room when she came in, as though that's what she'd come for, putting the cup down. — Is there a drink?

— It's, no I'm sorry there's not no… following the woman's eyes to the bottle empty on the counter — I mean there was but…

— No no no I understand, good God I understand that! She was standing, — it's just as well, really…

— Wait, there's a cobweb wait on the back of your skirt they're just everywhere in there, in that room… coming down to brush it away to be met with a knee come up, with the skirt raised skewed, with an indelible glimpse of flesh sagging these inner lengths of thighs she'd in that bed upstairs inhabited surging to meet him for as long as it lasted, until he came down fighting for breath himself, until she backed off unsteadily straightening up there against the sink — I, let me get something to…

— It's all right no, they're nasty aren't they… the hairy wisp of the thing hung black from her fingers — why they're so sticky, it's the smoke isn't it, it clings to everything for ages… dropping it into her teacup up with the back of her hand brushing her skirt smooth again, her shoulder, her sleeve as though brushing away her question, — he's not teaching now, is he?

— Well he, no, no I mean I don't really know what he…

— I don't think anyone does… she went on toward the front door, — anything he could get his hands on, even Greek drama and you can imagine that, but he didn't even really teach history no, no he wanted to change it, or to end it, you couldn't tell… and she had the door open, — to clean it up once and for all, like that room in there. It's getting dark… she'd stepped out, but she stood there. — If he hears from Jack, but he won't, will he. They just both finally felt like they'd let each other down, like they'd asked too much of each other and there was nothing left to, but he knows how to reach me. I'm sorry I disturbed you, I don't like to drive in the dark, I just spent ninety six dollars to have a new fuel pump put in this old car and it still stalls when you never expect it… and she suddenly put out her hand. — You look pale, she said, and then looking back into the room — you have lovely taste… squeezing the hand clutched there tight to the doorframe before she turned away.

The streetlight had come on out there on the corner. The door of the car slammed, and then it moved silently, dark, onto the road, coughing, moving faster down the hill, and then it was gone as though it had never been there at all.

When the phone rang she'd just picked up her own cup, back in the kitchen gazing down over the dark terrace where the twisted limbs of that naked scarecrow of a tree stirred their frayed reach as though in sudden torment to be gone but she'd filled it too full, and it spilled, catching that first ring before she could stop and then holding the phone like a weight unsteadily, listening, and then — oh! gripping the edge of the table — Edie! Oh I'm so glad you… no but you're right here! You could hire a car it's less than an hour, you could be here in less than… No I, I'm all right Edie I, I don't know it's all, everything, wonderful I, I can't tell you all, beautiful yes… yes tomorrow then, early? I can't wait… and she hung it up to get both hands gripping the table, coming up slowly as though fighting each moment, fighting a hand free to turn off the light and then stand, breathing deep, breathing deeper, before she turned back for the living room toward the stairs, toward the newel in flashes of colour caught in the glass on the sampler.