Stephen Dixon - Fall and Rise

“Ask me anything. We shit, we pee, we get sick, we brush our teeth, and sometimes we even wash our hands and comb our hair.”

“Someone will do it before me, you’ll see, and make a small fortune from it and get all the awards. Some smoked fish?”

“What?”

“The smoked fish table. I was just there and they’re now down to two of them, though one’s sable, so we better hustle.”

“I don’t want anything to eat. Fact is, I’m about to go home.”

“You’re still tired. That’s too bad, because I was kind of getting used to you here. Listen, before you go, could I ask if it’d be all right if I called you.”

“I guess, but I have to tell you I’m a bit tied-up with someone these days.”

“Every woman is and every man isn’t, it seems.”

“I didn’t quite get that. But more to the point, the reason I’m not more than occasionally tied-up with someone is that I don’t want to see anyone regularly these days.”

“If the right guy came along, you’d see him. I’m not him. So it is. Believe me, sometimes I even meet someone who’s attracted to me and once in my life I even had to turn a woman down.”

“I’m sure you do. I think I even suggested as much. Look, Arthur, I don’t want to get into it. I wasn’t feeling well in there, which is why I took so long.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t say it for sympathy, just stating a fact.”

“I can still say I’m sorry, can’t I? That’s common human courtesy and compassion.”

“Please, Arthur, don’t argue with me. Because you are arguing and it’s too damn silly to. We don’t know each other.”

“That’s why I want to call you.”

“Call me — I said for you to if you want — but I don’t think I’ll be going out much with anyone for a while, even that occasional friend. I have things to do. I don’t mean to hit you with it, but papers, class preparations and exams, references to write, which can take a long time. Besides all that, my writing work, and not only reviews.”

“What other writing?”

“No other writing. At least no other right now. To talk about. You’re pressing me again and it’s not right or fair.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t do that. Sorry, sorry — an unbreakable habit I’ll break. But if I do call, you can always make it for a single drink, can’t you?”

“I suppose so if I’m not tied-up with work or friends.”

“Or a coffee or lunch some weekend afternoon.”

“Even there, you’ll just have to call. I work weekends too.”

“I’ll call, you can count on it. Can I see you to the door?”

“I’m not leaving this moment. I have to say my goodbyes first. I’m not even that sure I want to go yet. Look, I’m hungry. I guess my stomach’s better. Why don’t we go to the food table after all? Not the smoked fish. Too late to make good use of that one and I doubt I could take it for pure eating pleasure now.”

“Something more substantial? Potato salad. I’m serious — the oil in the mayonnaise should bind you. And the meatballs looked solid, simple and good.”

“Maybe just a plain cheese sandwich if they have.”

“They’ve got to. With all the meat, cheese and bread, I could prepare one for you.”

We head for the food table.

“Hi, Helene,” Agnes says. “Super reception, hm?”

“Super.”

“The band — who could afford it? I’m still waiting for you to get on the floor again. You were walking off when we came in before.”

“You saw all there’ll be. Hello,” I say to the man she’s with. “Helene Winiker, an old friend of Agnes’s. Arthur…Oh God, Arthur, help me out.”

“Arthur Rosenthal, like the china. That’s how people remember it.”

“Excuse me,” Agnes says. “My husband, Jim Walsh. We were all at P.A. together. Dot, Helene — you were already dancing at City Center then. The kitty corps, or one notch above.”

“So it’s true,” Arthur says.

“Why, she ever lie to you? I’d be surprised. Mademoiselle Truth, we called her. Signorina Social Conscious, if I have it right.”

“Not true,” I say.

“There, I lied. Never even fib in front of apreternaturallike — apredestiterminally — just a superhuman truthspinner when you’re hip she knows the truth. Funny, but I was always so good at making up bombastic maxims. Anyway, I was telling the truth, so don’t make me out a liar. And I think Dot and I were the only ones who stayed in theater of our group, true?”

“Shawn too,” Jim says.

“She didn’t go to P.A. I’m talking of my city high school friends.”

“She didn’t? I thought she had. And how’d I know till now Helene was a classmate of yours?”

“We’re off to the food table,” I say. “How’s work?”

“You know how it is, since it never changes. But Jim, the rotten dog, gets every TV commercial available. Every actor hates him, including this one, he’s so gorgeous, talented and lucky.”

“I am neither. I happen to have the looks and mannerisms of someone who genuinely seems like, when he’s lathering a product into his scalp or splashing it on his skin—”

He’s saying this to her, so I wave goodbye, nudge Arthur and we go.

“So you were really a dancer,” he says. “How about that. I bet you still dance exceptionally — classical steps. When I was a boy I wanted to be a poet. I was one. Won all the poetry prizes in school and some for money, making out a lot better than most poets today. I’d stay up nights with a flashlight writing that stuff. Then it just leaves you — it did me. My family said business is what I should be interested in — money, position and a sensible intelligent wife to go along with it, but one with her own burgeoning career so she won’t get bored and she could bring in something, and they were right. I love money. I can be honest about it — does it bother you to hear?”

“I already said money’s okay.”

“I love what it brings. Cars, vacations, any book I want to buy. Even a boat once, and an island last summer — rented one, didn’t buy. And I don’t do well compared to a lot of the lawyers in my graduating class. I’m satisfied with a hundred thousand a year — this year — who needs more? Uncle Schmuel only gobbles it up when you only have one deduction besides yourself every other year and no cooperative or house. I’m buying one though.”

“You have a child?”

“A boy — eight. Lives with his mother. She’s one who was in my class and nowhere near me in grades or on the Review and makes more than I. Corporate law, that’s why. And because she works harder and doesn’t like to play as much as I. No boats, only business trips — There, told you we should’ve hustled faster for the smoked fish. They always run out of it first. I can take you to a great restaurant if you crave some — even now. It’s open till one. Has the best smoked sturgeon and salmon in town.”

“Thanks, but this will do fine.” I help myself to a slice of bread and cheese and several slices of turkey and tongue.

“Cranberry sauce?” a man behind the food table says. “Homemade, not canned.” He plops a spoonful on my plate.

“Aren’t you eating?” I say to Arthur.

“Too full — I’ll just drink. Good champagne like this you don’t get every night. Though I always have champagne in my fridge. Right this moment, three bottles of Taittinger’s brut on the bottom shelf, but I have to admit I don’t pour it as freely as they do here.”

“You ought to throw wedding parties at your home. Then you’d — no, sorry.”

“Go on, what?”

“Really, for the time being I have to continue to be the judge whether what I’m about to say will make sense or not and then if I should stop.”