Robert Coover - Gerald's Party

‘I’ve told you, Patrick, they’re yours,’ Woody was murmuring just behind my ear. ‘If you want them, take them. You’re perfectly within your rights.’

‘Only I ended up in their group photo somehow and Archie didn’t.’

Bob came over, pulled a thermometer out of a hole in Ros’s side I hadn’t noticed before, and left the room, scowling at it. Alison had felt me flinch and now gave a little squeeze. ‘They couldn’t get it into her behind,’ she whispered, ‘there was something in there. They had to punch a hole through to her liver.’

‘Ah …’ Was this what I’d wanted to know?

Jim, sighing, put an adhesive strip on the hole and covered it with a loose tatter of her dress. ‘We oughta get Cyril and his goatee into this picture,’ somebody remarked, and Wilma said: ‘Did you know Peg had a tattoo?’

‘Come on now, frenzied neighbors,’ Soapie called out, ‘let’s show a little life there! We don’t wanna make our readers have to guess which one’s the victim!’

‘A little red heart — right where you usually get your flu shots …’

‘What’s that about Cyril?’

‘My old corpus delicious isn’t good for much anymore, but — heh heh — if you need another bystander—’

‘Not that badly, old-timer. But I tell you what, if you can find one of those cops for me —’ Anatole burped ominously. ‘Woops! Hang on, kid! Are we ready, Leonard?’

‘Who, Fiona—?’

Jim stood, unlocked his knees, and paced around in a little circle. ‘Foot went to sleep,’ he explained apologetically.

‘Hold it, Leonard! Fats, stop crossing your eyes like that! You got no respect!’

‘You mean the one with the big nose?’

‘ Sshh! She’s around here somewhere!’

‘Are you ready, Doc?’

‘That’s really hard to believe!’

‘Whoa, look what’s just blowed in! Get in here, gorgeous, and show these amateurs how it’s done!’ It was Regina, leaning in the doorway behind Leonard, gripping the doorjamb, looking drained as though she might have coldcreamed her face and just wiped it off. Her black hair and costume were limp, her lips still drooling. Slowly she lifted her head and found herself staring directly at Anatole, staring helplessly back. Briefly they reflected each other, gasping, eyes watering, hands sliding upward to clutch at their gaping mouths — then Anatole, swallowing hard against the bubbling sounds in his throat, lurched forward, falling over Ros’s body (‘ Unf! ’ Jim grunted), picked himself up and staggered out of the room, hand to mouth, Regina having just, with a muffled gargle, preceded him. ‘Hey, you clowns, come back here!’ exclaimed Soapie, his press hat flying, as Leonard struggled with his tipped camera, and Brenda asked: ‘Who is that boy anyhow?’

‘Tania’s nephew.’

‘Oh yeah?’ She cracked her gum. ‘ Cute! ’

‘Awright, just straighten the knees out where he hit her, Doc,’ Soapie shouted (I heard a hissed whisper: ‘ Bitch! ’), ‘we haven’t got all night.’ I glanced into my hand: yes, it was still there. I held it between my fingertips, letting my palm air out, recalling the little magic shows I used to do for my grandmother with coins and cards and little balls. The trick, always, depended on distraction, a lesson, as it were, in the way the world worked. Lloyd Draper had returned meanwhile with the short cop in tow, Fred now carrying a big steaming slice of pizza in both hands, and Soapie, flicking away the cigarette he’d just lit up, pulled Fred over to join us around the body. ‘Here by the head maybe … yeah, that’s — listen, gimme that garbage! Now, one step back … right, hold it! That’s terrific!’

‘Should I have my gun out maybe?’

‘What do you think, Leonard?’ Soapie asked around a mouthful of pizza, his head cocked (behind the lights, the doorbell rang again), and Fats said: ‘Say, is there eats?’

‘Yeah, all right, why not?’ Soapie mused, handing the rest of Fred’s drippy pizza to Leonard. Leonard folded it up and stuffed it all in his mouth, then wiped his hands on Yvonne’s bindings (‘Psst! Do me a favor, Leonard,’ she whispered, ‘go get me a drink!’) and, oozing oily juices from under his scruffy clump of moustache, bent down (he bugged his eyes at her and winked: ‘Ah, you’re a nut case, Leonard,’ she grumped) behind his viewfinder again. ‘Come on, let’s get a hump on, Soap, while there’s still some groceries left!’ Fats whined, and Soapie said: ‘No, don’t point that wart remover at the body, sarge! What kinda sense does that make? Aim it more toward Ger there!’

‘Hey—!’

‘I got the safety on,’ Fred assured me with a wink.

‘Talbot! Come on in here! You can take the kid’s place — make room for him there, Bren!’

‘How ’bout if we move this tab in round the table and do a little in -terior dec- oratin’ at the same time?’ Fats suggested hopefully.

‘At least you might tuck your shirt in,’ sniffed Wilma as Talbot wobbled over, a dippy smile on his face. He had his own jacket on, but the pants he was wearing now — agape at the waist and baggy at the ankles — were mine.

I glanced down at Alison, feeling vaguely apologetic, and caught her looking up at me. She blushed. ‘I was thinking about that play we saw,’ she whispered, ‘what you said that night about happy endings …’

Talbot, weaving blowzily in front of us and accompanied by a nimbus of sweat and bathpowder, belched. He seemed puzzled by the sight of Ros’s body at his feet, Fred’s upraised revolver. He braced himself on Jim’s shoulder and lifted his feet high over Ros’s body, as though straddling a fence. Alison, leaning back against me to make room, scratched furtively at the back of my thigh, her hair aglow with a light that was almost magical — except that it came from the lamp her husband, lost in the shadows behind it, was beaming at her. Talbot stumbled into our midst, peered blearily up at me. ‘Your can’s leakin’ all over the goddamn place,’ he announced loudly, and Patrick whispered: ‘ Now? ’

‘It’s as good a time as any,’ said Woody.

‘Stinks, too.’

‘I know, I’m going to call a plumber, Talbot,’ I said, excited by Alison’s hand, her pressing thigh, her toe on mine beneath the body: I squeezed the earring in my palm, recalling for some reason the wetness of that beggar’s tongue as he stacked the coins. A kind of unappeasable hunger … ‘As soon as we’re done here—’

‘Oh yeah, the plumber. Met him on the stairs when I was comin’ down.’

‘What?’

‘Okay, lazy gents, let’s watch the little birdie!’

‘ Love to! Pull it out there where we can see it, Talbot!’

‘You saw a plumber—?’

‘Cockadoodle- doo! ’

‘ Talbot—! ’

‘That’s putting your best half-foot forward, Talbot,’ Yvonne cawed, as Soapie went on, Leonard beginning to click away: ‘Come on, everybody halo around there, squeeze up — you’re not paying attention, Ger! I’ve never seen you like this! Give us a hug or a smooch or something! Talbot’s got the idea — what’s the matter with the rest of you lot? This is a goddamn party, isn’t it — Pat, where are you going?’

‘I–I’ll be right back—!’

‘That’s disgusting , Talbot!’

‘Oh, it’s not so bad,’ Brenda laughed, smacking her gum (Wilma, leaning toward Talbot in an effort to help him zip his spreading fly, had jostled us, and, as I gripped Alison’s buttock for support, she gasped and said: ‘I’ll meet you by the cellar stairs!’), ‘but there’s one over there that beats it!’