William Gaddis - J R

— I’m off duty buddy, see the lights? Where you going.

— Straight uptown, look I’m in a hurry I…

— Do you a favor. Get in.

— To Ninety-sixth Street, he fell back as they started, — near Third… they moved into the traffic and came to a halt. The meter was silent. Another half block, firmly embedded between trucks, the driver tilted the rearview mirror to embrace his own immediate vacancy, plugged a cord into the cigarette lighter opening on the dashboard, and watched his hand course ineffectively up and down one cheek with an electric razor. — Listen I’m in a hurry, can’t you…

— Look at the traffic, what am I supposed to do.

— You know what Third’s like, why didn’t you take Park.

— Same shit over there.

— Like hell it is, you got trucks and buses on Park? He was thrown against the arm rest. — Now where the hell are you going.

— Try First… Up one cheek and down the other, each nostril flared with a heavy thumb, this earlobe, tragus and antitragus, that one, down one cheek and up the other, finally looking back unchanged, — which building.

— Up there right past Second, there, where those police cars are… and he was out holding the ten. — How much?

— That’s right.

— Wait… it was gone, — wait a minute, you…

— Look buddy you didn’t have no meter, I did you a favor right?

— Stop! Wait, you… God damn you! He kicked, it swept away, window open, and he stood there for a moment with one stockinged foot on the street before turning to push through backs and elbows toward the door.

— Wait a minute buddy, where you going.

— Listen officer I have to, I live here, second floor front right up there he pointed, — Eigen? he shouted past the uniform up the dark stairs, — you up there? Tom…? Tell them to let me come up there!

— Go ahead.

— Thanks… he pushed by, his one shoe reaching three steps at a time — where’s…

— Jack I’d talked him out of it! I’d just talked him out of it Jack!

— Where is he.

— No they just cut him down Jack, don’t…

— Don’t what! the door gave already splintered, — let me… oh Christ. Oh Christ.

The sprawl flung there on the linoleum gathered shape as the uniform rose slowly and the policeman turned toward them, stood there wiping his mouth. — We didn’t make it… he started to button his tunic, and then he looked around and took his hat from the policeman standing near the sink, put it on and squared it. — You be around for a few minutes?

— Yes, yes we’ll, Jack listen…

— You a friend of his too Mister?

— Me? Yes I’m a friend of his too Mister I’m, we’re both friends of his too Mister what the hell do we look like? Like we’d let this happen to him? What the hell do we look like we’d let him… who’s she?

— Jack listen…

— Wait, wait who’s she? Who are you?

— You better get your friend out of here.

— Who the hell are you! he pushed toward her pressed back against the sink there, back behind the policeman now opening a pad, raising it to bar his way.

— Look try and get hold of yourself Mister, you…

— Jack wait she’s just a, just his girl Rhoda, her name’s Rhoda.

The policeman with the pad looked at his watch, and turned to her. — How old are you, Rhoda? She just looked at him.

— Kind of a funny guy anyway, wasn’t he.

— Funny…!

— Hanging up pictures of dead kids on his wall like this, the policeman went on across the room straightening up from photographs taped up over a card table and looking over the clutter there, papers, books, a scarred typewriter, soiled bandages, a box of teabags, some loose change.

— Funny! He’s the, he was the funniest…

— Jack listen let’s, we can go next door and…

— The funniest guy you could, look at his feet could you do that? Something that funny with your God damned feet, look at them!

— Okay Mister, just go next door with your friend here and…

— No wait I want to tell you those pictures, those were children killed in Belgium he put them up there because he, he, he… Christ can’t you, here… he pulled a robe from a hook behind the door and flung it — just… cover him up?

Caught by a sleeve, the robe spread between the policeman’s hands. — What’s all the blood on it.

— It’s mine.

— Know something about this, Rhoda?

— I said it’s mine.

— I heard you. What else happened here Rhoda? She just looked at him. — You want to tell us what happened?

— You live here Rhoda? said the policeman beside her. — Keep your things here? Your clothes, your robe, your…

— It’s not my robe.

— You just said…

— It’s my blood.

— You want to tell us what happened Rhoda?

— I was supposed to meet him here but, her voice caught, — like I was late that’s all, man.

— You were here at the door when we got here, weren’t you Rhoda? You want to tell us about this blood?

— Like I came to get some things of mine, I mean just let me get them okay?

— You can get them later, you want to tell us about this blood?

— We were screwing, okay? I had my period and I put the robe on after, okay?

— You live here with him Rhoda?

— Officer for the love of Christ what are you trying to, of course she lives here look at the, you think a man puts dishes in the dish rack backwards like that? collects all the dirty ashtrays and then leaves them in the sink? leaves the cap off the toothpaste? the cap off everything? And the, that coat hanger look at that God damned coat hanger, you ever know a man who’d do that to a coat hanger? Go look in the toilet you’ll see the paper’s on the roller backwards too, one will get you five the paper’s…

— Look Mister the both of you better wait next door. Rhoda, you want to tell us…

— I just want to get my things, man.

— You can get them when…

— Get them when shit, when you get through cleaning the place out? There was thirty-seven cents on that table there you just put in your pocket you prick, I saw you you…

— How do you know it was thirty-seven cents Rhoda?

— Because it was my thirty-seven cents you…

— We’re taking his wallet and his watch too, they can be claimed at the office of the chief property clerk, everything else here gets locked up. How old are you Rhoda?

— Officer for, what God damned business is it of anybody’s how old she is, she…?

— Because if this keeps up she’s on her way to the juvenile shelter where they’ll give her a bath, now just take it easy…

— Easy! what do you, stand here asking stupid questions while…

— Look Mister we’re waiting for the medical examiner, just go next door with your friend here we might want an identification on him.

— All right but look, that cabinet over the dishes…

— I said you can’t take nothing out of here.

— Well can you just open the God damned thing and look? There, bottle back there says Old Struggler see it?

— It’s that scotch bottle officer, the Old Smug…

— Take it, here. Now go with your friend will you?

— And wait, wait on the floor there by his, that pack of cigarettes must be mine because he didn’t, doesn’t smoke…

— Here take them, can you handle him Mister?

— Yes he’s, wait Jack let me carry that…

— Okay Rhoda, now you want to tell us…

— Hardly see where I…

— Here get the railing let me get the door open what’s, no wait, wait Jack there’s mail all over the floor out here just let me get in and get the light, this damn door’s falling off its…

— Sound like the torrents of spring in there what’s…