William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— The Prado.

— The art museum? Mr. Yak shrugged. — What did you do there? He glanced up at the face beside him, and said, — You don't look like you liked it much. The art there.

— Well they. . the El Greco, his companion began, as though called upon to comment, and he drew his hand across his eyes. — They have so many in one room, they're almost hung on top of each other and it's too much, it's too much plasticity, there's too much movement there in that one room. . He suddenly looked up at Mr. Yak, holding a hand out before them which appeared to try to shape something there. — Do you… do you see what I mean? With a painter like El Greco, somebody called him a visceral painter, do you see what I mean? And when you get so much of his work hung together, it… the forms stifle each other, it's too much. Down where they have the Flemish painters hung together it's different, because they're all separate. . the compositions are separate, and the. . the Bosch and Breughel and Patinir and even Dürer, they don't disturb each other because the. . because every composition is made up of separations, or rather… I mean… do you see what I mean? But the harmony in one canvas of El Greco is all one. . one. . He had both hands out before him now, the fingers turned in and the thumbs up as though holding something he was studying with a life which Mr. Yak had not seen in his face before. But he broke off abruptly, and his hands came down to his sides.

After a pause, Mr. Yak said more quietly, — I didn't know you ever went there.

— I… I go there every day.

— You spend the whole day there? Mr. Yak turned on him in amazement.

— Well, I… not today, I… I had the strangest dream today, I… when I came back. And I woke up and I thought… it was almost dark, but I thought it was dawn and I thought I'd slept there all night, and all I heard was… I heard a child crying somewhere, that was all I heard. But I thought I'd slept all night and it was dawn. Then I tried to use my right arm, I reached out for a cigarette and it wouldn't work, my arm wouldn't work, it just hung there and fell over, and I… and all I could hear was a child crying somewhere.

They had reached the town. Mr. Yak glanced at him again, shrugged when he did not go on, and as they approached the doors of La Ilicitana muttered, — I just hope that barrel organ don't catch us out, as they entered, and his order for two coffees was not countermanded, or even qualified, by his companion, which, after the revelation concerning the Prado, brought Mr. Yak to observe soberly, — I even said you weren't a bum. Eh Stephan?

That brought a smile to Stephan's face for a moment, though it was one of detachment and when it faded away, left a vague abstracted expression.

— That girl you were with last night, Mr. Yak commenced, pressing his mustache and speaking with the ease of someone mentioning an event long forgotten, — I was glad to see you got away from her with your diamond ring.

— But you. . wait, you don't understand, you see she… I don't know, never mind.

— You paid her, didn't you? Forget her. Mr. Yak shrugged, sipped his coffee, and asked, — That blonde, did you pay her anything?

— Well, I… that's just it, you see I…

— Forget it. That's nothing, forget it.

— No, because the blonde didn't ask for anything, at first she didn't ask for any money, I thought, she just came with me as though she wanted… to. But then after a few times, then she borrowed some money from me just before she went away and I thought, I lent it to her. I would have given it to her except I still thought she'd come with me because she'd wanted to, and I lent it to her.

— Never mind, forget it. The kind of tramps you're picking up now you're lucky you still got your diamonds.

— No no but that's the point! when the blonde pretended she didn't come with me for money but all the time she. . don't you see? And this one, this. . Pastora, she. . with her it was money right from the start, and now, she couldn't afford to pretend because she needed the money, she really needs it but now, now with me what she wants. .

— I know what she wants. . Mr. Yak drew back as the diamonds came up in his face. — You gave her those rhinestone earrings?

— Those cheap things! Twenty pesetas. When I gave them to her I told her that, how cheap they were and she nearly cried just because. .

— Just because you didn't go get your diamonds made into earrings.

— No, listen, look, those cheap clothes she wears coming apart at the seams, she doesn't mind, if they're clean, if I… if I tell her she looks good, but if I say anything like. .

— You make quite a couple in the street, said Mr. Yak.

— Yes, he laughed himself quietly, looking down. — I was walking with my hands in my pockets, and all of a sudden she stops right there on the sidewalk, she was furious, Si tu no me coges. . she wouldn't walk a step further with me if I didn't take her arm. He stood there looking at the floor and almost smiling, until Mr. Yak said,

— You could do better, if you're going to get mixed up with. .

— Better? He brought his eyes up again, their vacant quality restored.

— If you're going to pay good money…

— But it isn't. . paying!

— I get it. You just give her some money afterwards.

— Yes but, listen…

— You're going to catch something, you probably caught something from her already. Those kind of tough girls you meet like that. .

— Tough, yes, the scars on her belly and down one leg, listen. .

— You probably caught something from her already.

— Caught something. .? His hand was up between them again, squared fingers closing upon nothing; and he was staring there. — I was, I had her breast and I was. . she, all of a sudden she said, No, son para la niña, she didn't want me to… to take what was. . wasn't mine.

Mr. Yak shrugged. — If you were getting what you paid for. .

— But that's what I'm trying to tell you! right in the middle of it, when I was still. . His closed hand quivered between them. — All of a sudden crying out, she burst out crying, Me quieres? me quieres? Dime lo. . que si! aunque no es verdad. .

Mr. Yak finished his coffee and studied the face before him with the composure of a man examining something unobserved. Then he shrugged again and said, — You get one every once in a while like that, they have to cry right in the middle of it. So you told her yes, you loved her? even if it wasn't true? He got no answer, put down the cup he'd been holding, and shrugged again. — You ought to have told her yes. A time like that, it's the only thing you can do, if you want to get your money's worth.

The town was quiet in the late afternoon. Mr. Yak tucked the purple and gold cord into his front as they came out on the street, and reopened the conversation on a more promising note. — Wait till you see this mummy thing when we get through with it, it will be so terrific it'll make your nose bleed.

The sky was unchanged, except for seeming closer to the earth, more oppressive upon the mountains, as the light of day drained from it. The two men approaching the rock-studded road up behind the town did so in silence, the one swinging his arms as he walked, allowing sounds of anticipation to escape him, the other hands clasped behind, watching every detail of the pavement they followed. It is true, Mr. Yak's gait was somewhat irregular, his head bobbing up to the challenge ahead, then down, and aside, as the past threatened in the dull intent profile beside him. He wondered, if this climb would recall its earlier end, when they'd met over a past beyond them both, if this prolonged gesture of atonement of his should suddenly shatter between them while the future yet promised, if he should mention any of that simply to hold it at bay, before it attacked of itself.