William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— It's late, Stanley said. — I'm going home.

— Yes but home, I mean late, and then there was this marathon walker, but I mean Chrahst I mean, how long?

— Half an hour, Ellery said thickly. — I'll meet you there.

— One of us better go with you, Morgie said. — You can hardly walk.

— I told you, like I told you, I told you I'm just going to drop up there alone for a minute, I'll meet you at the whatever the nightclub I'll meet you.

They helped him into a cab, which got him to Esther's address before he went to sleep in the back seat. He had difficulty getting out, but he managed, staggering into the doorway, and pushed the first button his thumb found. Then he climbed, stopping every now and then to try to count the number of flights he'd come up, and finally knocked at the door halfway down the hall. There was no answer. He put his hand on the knob, it turned, and there stood a little girl with a fly swatter.

— Rose? She stared up at him. — What's the matter, is she asleep?

— Yes, the little girl said. — She's still asleep.

He followed her in mumbling, — Rose, Rose, you're like a kid, Rose. There was a strange smell in the place. It became stronger as he approached the bedroom.

— See? She's still asleep. The little girl pointed with the fly swatter at the figure in the bed, and repeated, — She's still asleep.

The sme.l was overpowering. Ellery almost fell on the bed; but he steadied himself and stared. He got out a cigarette, but dropped it.

— She's still asleep, and I'm keeping the flies off her.

— Rose. Christ. Jesus. . He turned away heaving.

— They say at school there aren't flies in winter, the little girl went on, while he was sick over the back of a chair, — but there are, and I'm keeping them off her.

He hung there for a minute, and then pulled a dresser scarf close enough to wipe his mouth on it.

— Because there are flies in winter, here there are. .

He turned slowly holding his head in his hand, staring at her, and then pulled himself up and started for the door, where he fell against the door frame turning to look at her again. — Rose, listen,

Rose. . Breath was pouring into him and out of him. Then in one motion he turned himself out the door and reached the stairs.

He stopped three or four times on the way down, to prevent himself from falling headlong, and finally did fall about three steps at the bottom. It was enough noise to bring out the janitor, who helped him up and demanded, — Do you know anything about fifty tons of sugar?

Ellery just stared at him. Then he raised a hand and pointed up the stairs.

— Somebody's been trying to deliver fifty tons of sugar here all day.

Ellery let his weight go back against the wall, still pointing up the stairs. Then his hand dropped as though too heavy a weight to hold suspended so, and he got out the door, found a cab, and finally got to the nightclub, where some of the movie people had also come, for it was still comparatively early.

— My, that really was a verklärte Nacht, said Mr. Schmuck's musical director. — It was bad publicity.

Mr. Schmuck was tapping his fingers impatiently on the table, waiting for his order while beside him Mr. Sonnenschein engaged a Baked Alaska. Mr. Schmuck had simply ordered filet de mignon.

— I told you we'd ought to have just bought our pictures and gotten out of there, said Mr. Sonnenschein, blowing a delicate meringue filigrane across the table through the word pictures.

— A real Walpurgis. . Mr. Schmuck's assistant commenced.

— Shut up, said Mr. Schmuck, — so I could see the lady singing.

— Si-hilnt nite. Holy-y nite. Alll is calm. . she sang, in a blue gown with sequin-studded bolero jacket to match, filling a selective circle of blue spotlights with a song which had proved such a favorite Christmas Eve that she was singing it again.

In the reverent shadows, the Alabama Rammer-Jammer man salted a steak with Venus de Milo. Morgie pushed a glass over to Ellery. — Drink that and you'll bounce back.

Ellery mumbled, staring blearily into nothing. From a mouthful of steak across the table came, — Come on, if you can't eat you got to…

From a nearby table came, — We were here Christmas Eve too. We tried to get into Saint Pat's for the High Mass but you should have seen the mob.

And from the floor, hea

— Slee pin vun peece… lee

— What happened this morning? It's like it was a thousand years ago, Morgie said, and added to Ellery, — It's the first time I ever knew you were so goddam sensitive.

— And that, Ellery mumbled, going on despite the floodlit applause. — His face, I just keep seeing those beads of sweat on his face, understand? like a God-damned wreath of… beads of sweat around his forehead, do you get me?

— Tonight we have with us that famous star of stage and screen

. . Spotlights fought each other over the surface of blank faces.

— It's a little late, but I know everybody still has some of the Xmas spirit. . how about a word of Xmas cheer for everybody. .?

Hanging onto the microphone, the star entertained: —Merry Xmas everybody. Glad to see everybody making merry. Just watch out Mary don't go home with somebody else. He paused for laughter, and breath, swaying. — It was the most beautiful Xmas I ever saw. . when I got up Xmas morning… it looked so nice out I left it out all day…

— That bastard!

— I've got a broad waiting for me down at the Fritz-Carlton. . the star babbled on.

— That bastard! He killed it! said the Alabama Rammer-Jammer man, but neither of his companions appeared to notice. Ellery was trying to sit up straight and drink. Morgie stared dully into his glass.

— Look, what did Schmuck's number-one boy want over there, when you stopped and talked to them.

— They made me an offer. Ellery's shoulders sagged again. — The life of the Virgin Mary. They're shooting it in Italy. They want me on publicity.

— Look Ellery, for Christ sake, you're a swell guy. I'd hate like hell to see you get mixed up with the movies.

— What the hell, Ellery said. — You have to make a change once in a while.

— A change? You think it's going to be any different out there? It's the same goddam thing only it's worse. Here at least you know the people you work with, they know who you are, you got friends. Out there nobody knows you. Morgie was staring at the same blank place on the tablecloth where Ellery was staring. — You got to stop trading in some time. You trade in your goddam car, you trade in your goddam wife, and the minute you get used to the goddam thing some bastard puts out a new model. Just go to the goddam bank. Eye-bank. Blood-bank. Bone-bank.

— That's a nice idea for a show, the old Alabama Rammer-Jammer man interrupted. — Banks as a symbol of progress. Money-banks. Bone-banks. Eye-banks. Blood-banks.

— We just bought a canned show on the march of science, Morgie said, speaking slowly. Neither of them had raised his eyes. The plaintive quality in Morgie's voice was that defiant disappointment in the radio voice which has predicted clear only hours before, and returns to admit the possibility of scattered showers un-humbled by the fact that his listeners are staring through closed windows at driving rain. — Did you know that a handkerchief and a cannonball fall at the same goddam speed in a vacuum? Well that's where we are, in this great big goddam vacuum where a handkerchief and a cannonball fall at the same goddam speed, you know what I mean?

Their companion was watching the floor, the hollow plastic figurine clutched in his hand. H is thumb moved from one salt vent to the other and the lights dimmed again and went out. A ghostly emanation took their place, withholding reality, as an undelineated naked woman came forth, a pair of pink hands described in phosphorescence cupping her buttocks, which she ground at her audience as though the heavy hands of love (fleeting, groping, failing under other tables in the darkness) were kneading them in orgiastic violence.