William Gaddis - The Recognitions

Otto turned to leave but had hardly taken a step when the door to the studio banged behind him. — This damned hole in the wall, he heard, and turned.

— Oh, I just… I mean I just.

— I didn't hear you come in.

— I'm sorry, I mean… I just sort of came in.

— I'm… I was just on my way out. For a walk, going for a walk.

— It. well I mean I was just out, and I mean it looks like it's going to rain.

— Yes. Well you. you stay and read, if you like. There are some. books here, he said, gesturing. — Here. You read French, don't you?

— Why. why yes, Otto said, — of course, I…

— Here. Take this. Keep it. Read it. He picked up, as though from nowhere, a small book whose spine was doubly split, the thin leather facing, torn around the edges from the cardboard, of olive green almost entirely covered with gold stamping of scrolls and fleurs-de-lis.

— Adolphe, Otto read, on the cover. — I don't think I… — It's a novel, he said, — it's a good novel. You read it.

— Well thank you, I…

— I'll. get on with my walk now.

— Do you mind if I come along? Otto asked.

He had not looked surprised when he saw Otto; but he did now. He stood, his hands at his sides, opening and closing on nothing.

— I… I mean I wouldn't want to… well, you know, 1… Otto put Adolphe into his jacket pocket as he spoke. — I…

— Well, let's get on then.

As they walked toward the park, Otto said, — You look tired.

— Tired?

Otto turned to look at him, as though this response invited him to do so, or permitted it, since he had, for two blocks, been looking from the corner of his eye, awaiting some change in the face beside him, though even now, as the single syllable left its lips, it relapsed into the expression of intent vacancy which it had not lost, even in the interruption of surprise, a peremptory confusion which had seemed, for that instant, to empty it even further.

— Yes, Otto said, — I know. I mean when I stay cooped up like that working, I mean staying inside working on this play, it gets… I mean I get… I mean it doesn't seem to sound right after awhile.

— Yes, yes. I imagine it might not.

Though the tone of this response was an absent one, Otto was encouraged to go on, looking away, just then, from something he would never forget, a detail, he would tell himself, of no significance or consequence whatever; still Otto would remember him unsurprised, his lower lip drawn, exposing his lower teeth, as he spoke and finished speaking. — I mean, trying to get everything to fit where it belongs, there's so much that. well you know what I mean, I mean you've talked to me about these things before, but. well, you've really taught me a great deal.

— Have I?

— Yes but, well I mean to know as much as you do, it must be… I mean you can really do anything you want to by now, I mean, you don't feel all sort of hedged in by the parts you don't know about, like I do. Otto finished speaking, and looked anxiously for response; there was none but a sound which indicated that he needn't try to repeat what he had said. They walked on in silence, but any silence was a difficult state for Otto, most especially in the company of another person it seemed an unnatural presence which must be assailed and broken into pieces, or at least shaken until it rattled. Finally he said, — I've been wondering, I mean are you on a vacation now? Or are you just sort of taking time off. — From what?

— Well I mean from your job, the drafting.

— Oh that. That. I'm through with that.

— Really? That's wonderful. I mean, it is, isn't it? From what Esther's said, now you'll be able to… do what you want to do.

Attentive only to pools of water, the curbs, and shining bits of ice, they walked on. Before they reached the block they had set out from, Otto had looked at his watch a half-dozen times, and drawn only one response which he turned over in his mind, not to try to understand it immediately, face to face, for itself, nor the source from which it came, but fitting it to the lips of Gordon, through whom, though he did not know it, nor plan it so, he would one day overtake himself. As he walked he pictured Gordon in one after another setting, saying to one after another of the characters who were distinguished only by sex, — And if I cannot teach anyone how to become better, then what have I learned?

— It's just as though that dog's following us, Otto said looking back. He snapped his fingers. The black poodle bounded away. — But I mean, you don't see dogs like that running around loose in the streets. Otto looked up. It was the first time his companion had shown any interest in anything but the ground before them. — I mean, somebody must have lost it.

— Yes, she is odd. Running around us in circles, getting a little closer each time.

— Looking for its master probably, and all it sees is two strangers, Otto said. — But with all that fine trimming, that fancy coiffure and red collar, look at it, just another dog, crouching on its belly.

— Here. Come here.

— I've heard they're terrifically bright, though. The dog was off again. But when they got up the steps, they looked round to see the black poodle halfway up behind them.

Esther was putting her hat on when they came in. — What. wherever. she said, as the dog ran past her, entering as though it knew the house better, had more right there than she did.

— I thought you'd be just coming back, Otto said to her.

— I did, but the Bildows just called and asked us down for drinks. Do you want to come?

— Why yes, I mean if I…

— Well he wouldn't come, certainly, she said good-humoredly. — He's never forgiven her for trying to kiss him New Year's Eve. They both turned to include him on this, but he had stepped inside the door of the studio where he was fumbling with the phonograph.

— Esther, I… — He.

— I'll just be a minute, she said going toward the bedroom.

Otto stood, examining his fingernails. Then he looked at his watch, and music burst upon him. — What is it? he asked, approaching the door of the studio.

— This? Something of Handel's, an oratorio Judas Maccabaeus.

— Oh. It's. it's splendid isn't it, Otto went on, unable to show his appreciation by listening. — Lo the conqueror comes, sang the bass.

— It always seems too bad when they have to translate these things. I mean, it must sound much more impressive in the original.

— The original?

— I mean… in German, he said, as Esther entered, emptying the unexamined jumble of one purse into another. She dropped a lipstick. Her skirt pulled tightly against the long line of her thigh as she stooped to pick it up. The day had begun to darken. The poodle watched them both without interest.

— Please don't let the dog mess up the house.

— Goodbye, I…

— Goodbye.

On the first landing of the staircase, Esther fumbled in her purse and got out a piece of paper. — Can you read it? She handed it over. — It's their address, I never remember it.

— What's this?

— No. The other side. God knows what that is, something of his.

— The equation of x nplus y nhas no nontrivial solution in integers for n greater than 2.

— The other side. She pulled the outside door open herself.

— He is so… strange by now, Esther, Otto said catching up with her. — You can hardly… I mean all this time we were walking I couldn't reach him at all.

— I hardly know him at all now. It is strange. She looked up at Otto as they walked. — Do you know, there's something alike about you both.

— Yes, but. with his ability.

— With his ability and your ambition, she said taking Otto's arm, and looking away too soon to see the expression she brought to his face, — I'd have quite a remarkable man.