Donald Barthelme: The Dead Father

Pop one of these if you’d like a little lift.

Thank you. Palm Sunday.

Hope you know what you’re doing. Cordially.

Not too bothered. Thank you.

Time to go, time to go.

Walking by the sea, listening to the waves.

Think I’m getting nosebleed.

Have my handkerchief.

I’ve one of my own thank you.

I could have put it in a brick, he said.

A filthy-mouthed man.

He’s not bad-looking.

Have you tried any of the others?

I am only recently arrived and would like to wash and rest a bit.

Every effort will be made. I can make it hot for you.

Will it hurt?

My discretion. My yea or nay. Thought I heard a dog barking.

A spiritual aridity quite hard to reconcile with his surface gaiety.

Left Barcelona in disgrace.

I was suspicious of him from the first.

Certain provocations the government couldn’t handle.

Too early to tell. That’s a very handsome pin.

My mother’s. Willed to me at her death.

Goodbye goodbye goodbye.

Think I’ll stick around for a while.

That’s interesting.

Take the lay of the land.

That’s interesting.

Have you told him?

To my shame I have not.

And if it is at all possible for you to see me.

Fond urgings and soft petitions.

It’s all been carefully considered.

What?

Thought I heard a dog barking.

Did you know Lord Raglan?

We nodded when our carriages passed.

Out of here, out of here.

Not today, not today.

Pop one of these it will give you a little lift.

Will it hurt?

The line of march. Line of the cable. Viewed from above, this picture:

They came then to a man tending bar in an open field.

Yes, Thomas said.

Relaxation of the cable.

Drinks for everyone.

Ah! said Thomas.

Not too bad, said the Dead Father.

Yum, said Emma.

Another, Thomas said.

That was vodka, right? the bartender asked.

On the rocks and could I have three olives?

Three olives, said the bartender.

Having made the drinks he folded his arms and leaned against a tree.

Did you see the horses? asked the Dead Father.

Clump of eight, Julie said. I counted.

Black plumes, Thomas said. Black bridles, black trappings.

Black horses, said the Dead Father.

Standing in a rank, very well trained, not a whicker.

Perhaps they weren’t real? asked the Dead Father.

They were real, said Thomas.

Julie ordered another drink.

You’ve had enough, said the bartender, no more.

He’s right, said Thomas, you’ve had enough.

I’ll decide when I’ve had enough, Julie said. I want another.

He could lose his license if you fell down or committed an outrage, Thomas said.

That’s true, said the bartender, I could lose my license.

Here? asked Julie, indicating the emptiness. Who is to be outraged?

One never knows, said the Dead Father. Thirsty pilgrims, natives of the district, commercial travelers.

Make it a double, said Julie.

We do not serve unaccompanied women, said the bartender.

I am accompanied am I not?

Do you mean the one in the orange tights or the one in the golden robes?

Both.

I saw him with his thumb under there, said the bartender, had his thumb on it I’ll bet. Shocking rude I’d call it, in a public place.

Shocking, said the Dead Father happily. Never in all my years —

You’re a family man, now, the bartender said to the Dead Father. That’s perfectly plain.

Very much so.

You’ve children, said the bartender, responsibilities.

Beyond counting.

Thought so, said the bartender, I can talk to you. We understand each other.

Yes, fire away.

We can parley, said the bartender, make powwow.

Thomas was looking at the yellow sky.

Till the cows come home, said the Dead Father, so much are we on each other’s wavelengths.

When he’s got his thumb in there, asked the bartender, what do you feel?

Left out, said the Dead Father.

Button button who’s got the button? chanted Julie. I’ve got the button.

Can I see it? asked the bartender.

Can I have another drink?

A double Scotch appeared on the bar.

Julie knocked back the Scotch. Then she removed her shirt. There was nothing under the shirt.

That’s not what I meant, said the bartender, but God Almighty.

A crowd had gathered, both men and women. They were laughing.

Thomas smoothed Julie’s stomach with his hand.

Don’t touch! she said, you’ll make the others angry.

The crowd stopped laughing, both men and women, moved nearer, was looking at Thomas with angry looks.

Who do you think you are? a man shouted angrily.

I am this lady’s lover, Thomas shouted back.

Leave our stomach alone! the man shouted.

Your stomach? Thomas asked pointedly.

They crowded closer.

Hands were stretched out toward the stomach.

Mostly we don’t get this kind of group, the bartender said.

Thomas began to write something with lipstick on the stomach. The white, interestingly folded, stomach.

Oh, you rascal! cried the crowd. Oh, you rogue!

Julie rotated the stomach at the crowd. Sunlight bouncing off the tips of her breasts (purple).

Emma sulking at the bar. Drinking a Campari-and-soda.

Thomas held out the shirt to Julie.

Our stomach! they said. He’s taking it away!

The stomach heaved like a trampoline in the direction of its admirers.

Julie put on the shirt tucking the loose ends of it into her long dark-green skirt to the ground.

She looked at Thomas.

Have I lost my beauty altogether?

Not yet, he said.

Quite wonderful, said the Dead Father. I was offended, of course.

Suffer, Julie said.

The pink of you against the green of the fields, said Thomas. Several of my favorite colors.

They told me you were color-blind, when you were a boy, said the Dead Father. I never believed you were color-blind. A son of mine.

I thought I was color-blind, Thomas said, because they told me I was color-blind. To green, they said.

I never thought you were color-blind. You saw what we had agreed to call green.

I saw what I thought and still think was green.

Never thought you were color-blind or dim either, said the Dead Father, despite what I was told by the specialists.

You had hope, Thomas said. Grateful for that.

My criticism was that you never understood the larger picture, said the Dead Father. Young men never understand the larger picture.

I don’t suggest I understand it now. I do understand the frame. The limits.

Of course the frame is easier to understand.

Older people tend to overlook the frame, even when they are looking right at it, said Thomas. They don’t like to think about it.

Alexander approached Thomas.

Look there, he said. He pointed.

A horseman on the hill.

I think he’s following us, said Alexander.

You’ve seen him before?

Yesterday. Always keeps the same distance.

Not one of those we passed back up the road?

No. Those were black, this is a bay.

I wonder who he is, Thomas said. He looked at the Dead Father’s watch, which he was wearing on his wrist.

Okay, he said, let’s make tracks.

The cable taut. The straggle along the road. The horseman following.

Thomas helping haul on the cable. Julie carrying the knapsack. The Dead Father eating a bowl of chocolate pudding.

When I asked you to help me, he said, it wasn’t because I needed help.