Stanley Elkin - The MacGuffin

Well.

Druff’s eyes open again, he saw his son shake his head, mournful, woeful.

“Hey,” he said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Mike. I really am.”

“Did they give you a reason?”

“A reason?”

“For not letting us have the marathon?”

It was Druff’s last straw. He practically exploded. He could have awakened Rose Helen, upstairs sleeping, but he was past caring. “God damn it, Mikey, do you even know what I do for a living?” he demanded. “Do you? Well, do you?”

“You’re City Commissioner of Streets.”

“That’s right,” Druff said. “Now what do you suppose that entails?”

“You’re in charge of the streets.”

“Good,” Druff said. “Now where are the marathons run? Look at me. Don’t shut your eyes. Look at me! Where are they run?”

“In the streets.”

“Excellent. They’re run in the streets. Excellent. They’re run in the streets and I’m their commissioner. Why would I need a Scouffas, why would I need a McIlvoy? I’m City Commissioner of Streets, the streets are my jurisdiction. I could cross without looking both ways if I wanted. So if I wanted to put on a marathon why would I need the permission of people who don’t even live or pay taxes here?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t. Wonderful!”

“Then you’ll do it?”

Druff stared at him.

“You’ll do it? You’ll put one on?”

And stared at him.

“You promise?”

“Sure,” said Druff, “honor bright. Cross my heart. Hope to kiss a pig.”

Then Mikey said something in a manner so completely neutral and uninflected that, at first, Druff, though he’d heard the words, had no notion, none at all, what they meant. “Oh Dad” was what he said. But for the separation of the two discrete syllables, it could almost have been some sound of the body — some incoherent, vaguely natural (though not nature proper: not the wind, not the water; not fire, not earth) noise of the emotions, of displacement, like the tuneless, interstitial creak of bones. He said it again. “Oh Dad.” Was it nerves? It was grief.

Then — to give himself time, Druff would have said “gradually,” but there was nothing gradual about it, nothing calibrated, nothing stepping-stoned, nothing scalar, nothing runged; there were no easy stages — he recalled its terms, and understood that whatever their agendas, they were on the same beam, all right. Even before Mikey asked him if he remembered Diosodidio Macospodagal. Why, the kid was a hostage. He was Druff’s hostage.

“The doctor?”

“Yes,” Michael said.

“You were a kid,” Druff said. “How do you remember his name?”

“I remember,” Michael said.

“Well,” Druff said, “it’s a funny name. The kind of name you never forget. Hey,” Druff said, “what’s this? What’s the matter with you? Do you want to wake your mother? Hey, Michael, come on. Stop it, Mikey. You’re a grown man. Stop it now.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“Of course you can help it. Take a deep breath. Go on, take a deep breath.”

“Fuck a deep breath.”

“Do you know how silly you sound?”

“Fuck a deep breath. Fuck a deep breath.”

“All right now. Cut it out. Will you cut it out, please?”

“Fuck cut it out. Piss on cut it out up the ass.”

“You’re making a scene.”

“Suck my scene’s dick.”

“I’m tired, Mikey. Why are you carrying on like this?”

“And I suppose you didn’t? You made a scene! You made a son of a whore’s bitch of a scene. God damn it to pus shit. You made a scene!”

“Come on, now. Jesus. Get hold of yourself please. Here, take my handkerchief. Your nose is running.”

“Stick my nose. Stick your handkerchief.”

“Right.”

“You made a scene. I’ll say you did. I’ll say so. ‘Your pop’s dying, Mikey. I’ll miss you, Mikey. You’re the one. I love you, kid. You’re the one I love. I’m sorry I crapped out on you, son. You’re man of the house now; take care of your mother, Mikey. Study hard. Behave yourself. Don’t get into trouble. Promise, promise me now. Your dad’s dying, kiddo. He’s had a massive cardiac infarction and he’s slipping fast. Put your hand over my heart like you’d pledge allegiance to the flag.’ Jesus, Daddy, I wasn’t even ten years old.”

“He was crazy,” Druff said. “He had the bedside manner of an elephant. No idea how to talk to people.”

“And you did.”

“Did I say those things? I must have scared hell out of you. I’m sorry. I said all those things?”

“Oh Dad. Every word.”

“Well, how do you think I felt, he told me the shape I was in, that the first ten or so hours were critical and I might not last the night? How do you think I felt, he said it might do me good I set my house in order and told my loved ones good-bye?”

“And I did it. I pledged allegiance to your heart!”

“He was irresponsible. No, really. That was irresponsible. A bull-in- a-china-shop doctor. I was so scared, Mikey. More frightened than when I found out I had to go in for the open-heart surgery. Jeez, I can’t get over that guy. How can people talk that way? Doctors hold people’s lives in their hands. Don’t they realize the part the mind plays in healing the body? The brute force of attitude? He should have been brought up on charges, a guy like that.”

“And what about you? What about the way you talk to people?”

“I did love you, Mikey. I swear it. I meant every word.”

“Sure you did. I was cute. I was this cute fat kid.”

“I was barely thirty. He told me to set my house in order. I wasn’t that much older than you are now. I was too young to die.”

“You were saying these things and crying. Your nose was running. Under the oxygen mask. I didn’t know what to do. Why wouldn’t you let me ring for the nurse?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I was setting my house in order!”

“Tit piss fart wind on your house!”

“What is that? What’s going on down there?” Rose Helen called. “Do you know what time it is? You woke me up.”

Druff and Mikey looked guiltily at each other.

“I bought new batteries for her today,” his son said.

“Yes,” Druff said, “I know. So did I.”

“She sleeps with them in?”

“She’s afraid the smoke alarms will go off and she won’t hear them if she doesn’t wear them.”

“Are you two fighting?”

“We were having a little argument. Sorry we woke you. It’s all over.”

“It isn’t,” Mikey said softly.

“It is for now,” Druff said as quietly. “I’m exhausted.”

“You look worn out,” his son said.

“I am. I’m beat,” said the City Commissioner of Streets. “I might be coming down with something. I didn’t eat. All the running around I’ve been doing.”

“What running around?”

“Well, Scouffas. McIlvoy. A lot of little shit.”

“Are you having any chest pains?”

“No no.”

“Because even if you’re not having any right now but only just feel they might be coming on, you should take your pills. There’s no need for you to wait. That’s what the doctor said.”

“No,” Druff said. “It’s not chest pain.”

“You were taking these short, shallow breaths.”

“Fuck my short, shallow breaths.”

Mikey smiled. “I was worried,” he said.

“You worry about the wrong things.”

“What is it?” Rose Helen said. “Aren’t you ever coming up?” She’d put on her robe and slippers and come downstairs.