William Gaddis - J R

— Herbert B.

— That’s the only Mollenhoff anyway… she dialed. — Did you want to, hello? Mister Mollenhoff? Yeah this is Carol, Ginny? He did? Thanks. You want to go shopping at lunch…? By the cooler, yeah. She hung up. — He went to Akron, Mister Mollenhoff. Is there anything else?

— When will he be back?

— She didn’t say, you want me to ask? She had the phone again.

— No, no, don’t, don’t bother, he turned for the door — oh, while I think of it tell Mister ah, Mister Davidoff, tell him that major is field grade too.

— Major what? I better get a pencil.

— Field grade includes major, not just colonels.

— Field grade includes major, yes sir, she said from her pad, — you know the way out? I’m going down toward the elevators you can just follow me okay? He did, eyes lowered till she turned. — We can just go through this way and, here. Here they are.

— That’s some painting you’ve got on this floor.

— It’s real big isn’t it.

— I wouldn’t cut off my ear for it.

— Your, gee no she said as the doors opened silently and he stepped in, closing as silently on her — come see us again, and the figure rounding the corner behind her fighting loose a tie with — Oh Carol… descending to Don’t Fence Me In and a lobby filled with policemen which he got through and as far as the city ambulance at the curb before his — What happened? provoked response, a dulled obscenity from a lounger against the granite sill unbuttoned to the waist in the cool air where Don’t Walk flashed as he crossed at a lope, down the block, down the ramp into the garage.

— Kinda car?

He handed over the ticket folded in bills. — A brown…

— You not suppose to get this car till five o’clock. We got it all blocked in down there, you say you don’t want it till five o’clock.

— Look I’m in a hurry, here’s an extra buck. Can you get it out?

— Can’t just get it like that…

He watched the dollar stuffed among greased folds in a turn toward a group lunching on the hood of a distant Cadillac where, as he began to pace under the roar of an exhaust fan, he glanced with each about face to look at his watch in a heavyweight’s gesture, and back, paused to study racing cars on end, in mid-air, in flames, taped to the wall, the distant picnickers again, his watch in an awkward left cross, and back; pitted navel, graveled nipple, calendar for July simmering under the exhaust fan, his watch, that lunch, dimpled cheeks bared on a diving board for August, racing car in flames, one in mid-air, on end, he sat, stood, paced, returned to gauge the cleft in August’s cheeks yawned at him from the diving board, and back, muttered, called out, sat, stood, at last himself descended, ramps, caverned ranks of cars and his, free-standing, as the third inning began, feet dislodged from the dashboard, loud words dulled to muttering as he drove up the ramp, two men on, one out, and a called strike nearing the bridge stopped for a light, window rolled down where his arm rested from a thrust for a look at his watch and from its face up to one in the car stopped close beside him for the light, black, black in the driver’s seat, black behind,

— and it’s… a hit, a line drive toward third…

and a roar as the light changed, the watch was ripped from his wrist and the car beside him swerved across oncoming traffic, horns sounded around him and the cry — Wake up buddy! from a cab wheeling past as he pitched his car forward with the gasped — I… don’t believe it, over the bridge on a double play and well along the expressway ribbon of filth, battered hubcaps, rusted twists of tailpipe, curls of tire tread before the engine missed once, twice, and he pulled off to the side in the seventh inning stretch, got out, opened the hood, lifted out the air filter and was reaching in to free the butterfly valve when the whole car shook to a wrench of twisting metal. He came round it holding his head where he’d just hit it on the hood straightening up, another tearing wrench and the car’s trunk flapped open. — What the, hell are you doing!

— At’s all right, you here first, you take the front.

— You, what do you…

— You got the front, ain’ that fair? Even gettin the battry just leave me the back, ain’ that fair? I ain’…

— You you crazy son of a bitch you you, you… get out of here!

— What you want to hog it all, got everything in the front can’t just leave me the back?

— Youg, it’s mine, get out of here it’s mine!

— You the meanest shit I ever…

— Youc… come back here you… he advanced on the car pulled up behind as its door slammed, a duplicate of his own but for dents and color — my car, you come back here you son of a bitch look what you did to my car…!

— You just a real mean shit, came back to him from the dented car pulling away, into the stream of traffic.

— You come back here you, you son of, you… He stood there panting, staring, sagged, finally found a wire coathanger in the trunk to secure its twisted lid down and got round to replace the air filter, slammed the hood, the door, pitched back into traffic still muttering — I don’t believe it… when he pulled up at the school in the top of the ninth and down the corridor for a futile try at slamming the hollow core marked Principal behind him.

— No we’re looking in the ahm, come in Major yes the budget that is to say we’re going through the budget right now I don’t see any mention of… no well of course they may be part of the federally subsidized cafeteria lunch program if the freight office says the shipper is the ahm, some branch of government they… No of course that’s why the children are prohibited from bringing their lunch to school in the first place, we can’t… class six J? Yes well we can ask Mrs ahm of course we can’t ask Mrs Joubert no she’s still out on sick… how many? No well look at it again Leroy there can’t be a hundred and sixty-eight thou… from a total shipment of what…? Gross yes that means gross no that’s impossible you’d better go down there and ahm, in terms of the ongoing situation enrollmentwise yes you’d better go down there and ahm, and count them that is to say…

— Hello Hyde, been in a gang fight?

— Now listen Vera, don’t…

— Yes sit down Major you look ahm, Vern just dropped in to excuse me a minute, hello…? Oh for yes the District Superintendent he’s right here yes, Vern…?

— Hello? Who is it…

— Yes well I was just telling Vern we ahm…

— Other phone here Whiteback I’ll get it, hello…?

— And who gave you that information.

— Just Parentucelli, wants to know if Vern wants the blacktop running around to the back of the house.

— No comment right now, no. Tell him all the way around except the breezeway… What…?

— He says everything except the breezeway…

— We’re making a full investigation yes, goodbye. Here I’ll talk to him.

— He hung up, who was that.

— That was the newspaper Whiteback, they had a report on a sitdown strike in your fourth grade.

— Yes well that was ahm, those fourth graders yes Vogel had them making models of ahm, the glue that is to say smelling the glue the little ahm, youngsters some of them went to the nurse’s office and couldn’t stand up so they ahm, sat down that is to say yes I’d better call the paper back and…

— Don’t you dare touch that phone, haven’t you ever learned not to volunteer information to the papers?

— Yes well of course we ahm, community relationswise that is to say Vern you don’t get popular support without the ahm, how did that Flesch woman put it yes without the support of the community of course she had a gift for expressing ideas and my job is ahm…