William Gaddis - The Recognitions

Then he lost his balance and almost went over as the door came open behind him in someone else's hand.

— Rose!

— I saw you here.

— My razor, I forgot that, he said, between them, turning. — A straight razor with black handles, is it in the bathroom?

Rose followed him there. Looking for the thing, he paused half turned to her, seeming slightly confused at the scent of lavender she brought with her.

— Rose…

— I heard a poem, Rose said, — "A magnet hung in a hardware shop…"

— It's not here.

— Rose, Esther said, — that music is too loud, Rose.

Around them the sounds of voices reached separate crests, broke in spray, and lay in foam awash on the surface of the swells as the music rose and receded, and the faces themselves seemed to lift into a moment's prominence, immediately lost in the trough that followed. So Benny's face was raised, and stood out inflated with effort, and dropped from sight again.

— To find out what sex it is you just spread it out and blow.

Esther looked down to see the kitten, unfurled upside down between large thumbs. — Here, give it to me, give it to me, she said, rescuing it. The nausea startled up in her for a moment.

— It's the worst feeling in the world, said the tall woman beside her.

— What? Esther asked, drawing the kitten in to her.

— To know you've laid a cigarette down somewhere.

The little girl tugged at her skirt. — Mummy sent me up again. . The tall woman laid a hand on her wrist. — You didn't tell me that he was coming tonight. Esther turned quickly, startled. — Do you know him?

— No, my dear, and I didn't know that you did.

— But. . Oh, Esther said. Looking round to where he had been standing beside her she realized that the tall woman was talking about someone else.

— Did you like his book?

— What book? Esther asked, looking where the tall woman was looking, at a man in a tan suit who had just fallen over one end of the couch.

— Now don't tell me you don't know about The Trees of Home? Or are you snobbish about best sellers too?

— No, I…

— My husband says he stole the plot from the Flying Dutchman, whoever that is. My husband meets all sorts of people.

The man in the tan suit, back on his feet, was saying, — Why should I bother to write the crap for those speeches? I'm lucky I can stand up before the Rotary Club and deliver them. Some faggot writes them for me.

Near him, someone obligingly derived fnggot from the Greek phagein. —Phag-, phago-, -phagous, — phagy, — phagia. . the voice whined. — It means to eat.

Arny Munk, propped against a wall with Sonny Byron's arm around him, said, — Really ought to tell Maude, ought to tell her. . huhhh. . the University of Rochester has discovered huhhhh how to make synthetic morphine huhhhhp from coal tar dyes. .

— I think you're sweet, said Sonny Byron, soberly.

Mr. Feddle was standing on a chair, reaching for a book on a high shelf. The swinging alarm clock hit a girl on the back of the head, and she stopped singing I Can't Give You Anything But Love.

Esther, listening intently beyond the tall woman's voice to escape it, heard only a whine, — the decay of meaning, and you can't speak a sentence that doesn't reflect it. You're enthusiastic over sealed-beam headlights. Enthousiazein, even two hundred years ago it still meant being filled with the spirit of God. .

She would have gone direct to the couch and sat down, had not Benny caught her by both hands and turned her to face him. — Where did he go? Where is he? Who was that?

— Why. . my husband. Do you know him?

— Where is he? What was he doing here?

— He just came to get. . some things. . Two or three people turned, curious at the tone in their voices, Benny's excitedly high, while Esther spoke with faltering intensity, as though forced to affirm, and repeat affirmation to this impersonal, circumstantial demand which was Benny. — You're hurting my wrists, she said.

— But… I thought I'd never see him again. Isn't that. . isn't that… I never wanted to see him again, and now here he is and I want to see him, I have to see him, where is he?

— I can't believe he's really gone, she murmured as they took their eyes from each other and looked toward the door, saw only the young man whose heavy mustache seemed to weigh his round head forward, looking at them, innocent, anxious at their sudden scrutiny.

— Ellery, did you see him? I mean, he was just here, did you see him leave, Ellery?

— Sorry, old girl. He broke a leg. Had to shoot him.

— Really, Ellery, please. I've got to find him, is he still here? She had taken hold of Benny's arm; and who Benny was, or what he wanted, ceased in her grasp which held Benny forth, a dumb prodigy, to witness that the matter was not hers, but necessity's own.

— A shame to shoot him, a fine blooded animal like that… It was difficult to know if the blonde beside Ellery was trying, but unable, to smile, or subduing that smile which is stupidity's cordial greeting to matters which its very nature excuses it from attempting to understand: so she looked, not at Esther, but at the silent phenomenon of Esther's evidence, as though there might be immediately apparent not only the evidence, but the very nature of the case itself, and its disposition not understanding, but dismissal.

— Ellery. .

— The truck just came around from the Futtybrook Hunt Club, skinned him, cut him up, took him back to the kennels. Dog meat. . Benny tore from Esther's grasp, and, stepping forward, he said, — Ellery, what's the matter with you, good God Ellery will you. .

— Hell of an end for a thoroughbred.

— Stop it, will you tell us… Benny commenced, raising his hands.

— Come on, Benny. You're drunk, Ellery said, grinning and looking at him, and the blonde looked at Esther, no longer plaintiff but witness herself to the relieving and obvious fact that there was really nothing to be concerned about after all. — He's gone, Ellery said easily. — I saw him leave a minute or two ago. He put a hand on Benny's shoulder. — Come on, Benny, Christ. Straighten up. I told you you deserved a drink, but not a whole bottle. . Benny drew away from him, without even looking at his face; and Ellery shrugged, took a deep inhalation from his cigarette, winking at the blonde as he turned away. Esther and Benny stood silent, as though both listening for denial of Ellery, for explanation of one another.

— That very odd girl with the green tongue has been telling me that it was really the Jews who discovered America, said the tall woman, her back to them. — Isabella's jewels didn't have a thing to do with it, backing Columbus I mean, it seems it was Isabella's Jews. .

They both looked up, and both spoke at once. But Esther stopped.

— He was a draftsman, wasn't he. Were you married to him then? He was only a draftsman, and I was a designer. We worked together. He never mentioned me, did he. Well why, why should he, why should he have mentioned me to anybody, why. .

Over his shoulder, Esther looked up to see the brown eyes of the critic; then she turned back to Benny with a different look on her face. — Don't you want to sit down somewhere? she said.

— He never talked about me, did he. And why should you care, what would it matter to you? And why should I care now, why should I want to see him, because anyhow everything's different now. And it's all different for him too, isn't it. Why should I want to see him now, any more than. . why should we have even worked together then, what. . because everything's different now, I'm fine now, I'm getting along fine, and is he? What's he doing now? Is he happy now? Is he getting along fine, like I am? Did everything change for him too, so that… Is he doing what he wanted to do now? or like me, is he doing what he can do, what he has to do…