William Gaddis - J R

— Don’t match the carpet don’t match the walls don’t match a damn thing, what’s all that.

— What sir the oh, the box lunches yes sir these are the box lunches but the class Mrs Joubert’s youngsters had to leave because of the leak in the board room we’ll have to throw them out, there’s no…

— Throw them out? What’s in them.

— Ham and cheese sandwich, banana, cupcake potato chips pickle wedge…

— Don’t throw out good food, who ordered them.

— I did yes sir but…

— You ordered them you eat them… he bumped the surge of yellow where she backed the boys into the elevator, — hear me? Waste shows an undisciplined strain of mind, Mister what’s your name…

They descended to Country Gardens, pressed out ahead of her — hey aren’t we going to eat?

— You’re going to the automat instead… she held the yellow skirt against a gust of wind, — see over in that next block?

— Hey look…

— Come on boys, don’t stop…

— Boy but wouldn’t you think the police wouldn’t just let him lie there hey?

— You coming with us to eat?

— Did you see all that blood hey?

— No I have to go right back to work, there’s your friends… she gained the glass, pointed in over beans mounting a withered frankfurter remnant charred en casserole. — Come see us again now…

— Who’s that with Mrs Joubert hey… they burst from the revolving door.

— That guy Bast, she better have my stuif boy…

— Boys? No running… she called seated near bread and rolls, an elbow on the table and her fingers, curved as fingers curve on a violin’s fingerboard back on the heel of her hand where her chin rested, quivered there as though bringing the tremolant tone to her voice. — Not at you no, no I was laughing at myself when I was young, at what I thought all composers were like I’d read something about Wagner somewhere, about how he couldn’t stand books in a room where he was working and how he stroked soft folds of cloth and scent, he liked attar of roses and someone sent it to him from Paris, that’s what I thought it was like all silk, silk and attar of roses…

— Is this here all my stuff Mrs Joubert?

— How we suppose to eat.

— Yes I think if we can borrow another dollar from, thank you Mister Bast just take it over there boys, she’ll change it into nickels for you I’m sorry Mister Bast, I don’t know what we would have done if we hadn’t run into you again.

— Yes well I’d hoped…

— I don’t know how I could have left without money, I’d barely enough for their train fare and their lunches were supposed to be…

— No it’s all right… he’d brought his eyes up sharply from the loose collar of her blouseless suit, more the appeal of asking a favor than granting one in his tone — that was when he was old though, Wagner I mean, when Wagner was old and…

— Yes but that’s what you meant isn’t it, about creating an entirely different world when you write an opera, about asking the audience to suspend its belief in the…

— No not asking them making them, like that E flat chord that opens the Rhinegold goes on and on it goes on for a hundred and thirty-six bars until the idea that everything’s happening under water is more real than sitting in a hot plush seat with tight shoes on and…

— Mrs Joubert could I have a dime?

— I think you’ve had enough to eat Debby, we’re…

— It’s Linda.

— Linda yes I’m sorry, where’s your sweater.

— Over on the table, I don’t want to eat they said it costs a dime to go to the toilet here, you have to put a dime in to get in the…

— Yes yes all right if, oh thank you again we must be taking every penny you…

— No no it’s all right I’ve, I’d put some aside for the union and when they wouldn’t take me, when you say you’re a concert pianist they give you as hard a score as they can find there was a drummer there and all they asked for was give us a paradiddle…

— But why must you join at all, if you simply want to compose…

— No well since this teaching was, since it didn’t really work out too well I thought if I could find some work playing I could keep on with my…

— Mrs Jou…

— Here…! he thrust a dime at the figure shifting rapidly foot to foot beside her, — that I could keep working on my…

— But couldn’t you earn something writing music for, I don’t know but there must be somewhere you could…

— Yes well that’s what I did, what I’m doing I mean somebody I met there, a bass player, he was on standby he’s getting paid not to play at a Broadway show they say is a musical just because it…

— Mis…

— Excuse me, boys please! You’ve just had a dollar J R you don’t need…

— No I know, I just wondered if Mister Bast wants me to change some nickels from a dollar for him.

— Not, no but if you’d like something?

— Some, just some tea I think, I don’t feel awfully well…

— Yes wait, here… he peeled away a bill under the table.

— And he found you something? this bass player?

— No well yes sort of indirectly, he said he wanted to help me out and sent me to a place over on the West Side where they said they wanted some nothing music, three minutes of nothing music it’s for television or something, they said they had three minutes of talk on a track or a tape they needed music behind it but it couldn’t have any real form, anything distinctive about it any sound anything that would distract from this voice this, this message they called it, they…

— But of all things how absurd, paying a composer to…

— Yes well they didn’t, I couldn’t do it I mean, they were in a hurry they would have paid me three hundred dollars and I tried and all I could, everything I did they said was too…

— And that’s hardly what I meant, someone being paid not to play who sends you somewhere to write nothing mus…

— Well what do you think I…! he caught one hand back with the other, — I’m sorry I, three hundred dollars all I could think of was that concerto of Mozart’s the D-minor, that’s more than he got paid for the whole series and I couldn’t even…

— But I think it’s marvelous, that you couldn’t write their nothing music? I mean just because you can’t get paid to play Chopin or even write music that’s…

— No but I am though, I didn’t finish… he looked up from her fingertips touching his hands clenched there, — when I left somebody else there said he’d like to help me out and sent me downtown to see some dancers who want their own music for…

— Boys…! her hand was gone, — settle down! she called after the collision at the marbled cashier’s cage — I’m sorry, we…

— Do you like Chopin?

— Oh of course I do yes, that ballade the Ballade in G? it’s simply the most roman…

— In G-minor yes that’s on the program if I could get tickets would you, it’s next week would you like to go if I can get the tickets it’s a recital by…

— That’s awfully sweet Mister Bast I…

— No well I guess I, I mean you’re married I didn’t think of that I just…

— That’s hardly the reason no but, I’m just afraid I can’t, I’m…

— No that’s all right I just, I just thought you, you wanted some tea yes I’m sorry I’ll get it…

— Thank you I’d, oh be careful! she’d seized his wrist.

— No I’m all right… he came up slowly as her hand fell away, — I’ll get it… he righted the chair and stood looking, turned toward the figures huddled at a table near the telephone booths foreheads almost touching, hands churning coins.

— Boy did you see how she throws out twenty nickels without she doesn’t even look at them? Like her fingers can count them like they’re this here machine wait, let’s see that one…