William Gass - Omensetter’s Luck

Or it's the length of the dick — how far it throws the seed.

The doctor carefully dusted his trousers. Whew-ee.

Thus he remained a moment.

All that's manure, he said. Manure. Then he strode away.

Henry watched the forge until it burned his eyes.

Later Curtis Chamlay looked in to ask if anyone intended fishing in the morning, and Luther Hawkins, admiring the point on his stick, carrying on the conversation in his head, chuckled.

Dogs don't care, he said. It's a fact.

George Hatstat said: know what Blender said that Edna Hoxie told his wife? douche with milk if you want a girl.

And all she does is douche with the Dutchman.

Hawkins picked dirt from a crack.

That fat Dutchman — how does he get on?

Take it easy, Chamlay said, laughing. Tott's ears are burning.

Why should they, Hawkins said. You listen at that preacher like he does, his ears hears every word there is.

That Dutchman, Chamlay said. I'll bet his cock is curly.

Pig's cock, Hawkins said.

Blenker isn't Dutch, Tott said.

Shit.

Hoxie says boys swell the right teat more.

Ah shit.

No, honest, Curt.

Hatstat clutched his chest.

Girls make special aches in the left side. That's what she said.

She's full of shit.

In the dust Hawkins began a drawing of the Dutchman mounting.

It's meat that does it, Chamlay said. Beef. It's got some chemical.

The bar began to glow again.

Hawkins scratched his drawing out.

I saw one in a bottle at a fair, he said. A little thing, you know. Pink and purply — whatever color. It was pickled… wrinkled… real pale and upside down in the stuff… looked like a pig.. but dead… jesus.

Mat hefted his hammer impatiently.

Hawkins drew a mason jar.

It depends on what she eats, Chamlay insisted.

Then Hatstat made a disrespectful noise.

Come on Omensetter, what do you think? is it going to be a boy?

If she lolls about and stuffs on candy, Chamlay said, she gets a sugar baby—

Naw — shit.

You've got boys, George, right? But Rosa Knox? When Rosa's pregnant all she eats is sugar buns. Ask Splendid Turner if she don't.

Luther Hawkins nodded.

Fact, he said. A scientific fact… I wonder what that little Perkins devil filled Maggie Scanlon's belly with.

That Perkins, Chamlay said. I know him. I'll bet it wasn't cock.

You think that belly's growing up from spit, Curt, George said.

What a bitch, said Hawkins. She'll give birth to dogs.

Mat's hammer rang the metal.

Afterward, when Mat had hushed his iron in the rain barrel, they discussed fishing for a long time. Olus Knox had come and he was always eloquent about it. Everyone, that is, but Omensetter did, who sewed on silently, a look of intense bewilderment on his face.

I couldn't sleep. Did you notice how restless I was and wound in the sheets? The weather must be changing. I'm always restless then.

She filled her cheeks with air.

Henry ignored his wife's voice; dipped his hand in the wind. The leaves were learning of the cold. He turned his palm, allowing the wind to pass between his fingers. Cool as hill water it seemed to flow from the pale clouds. This is how it feels, he thought, to run through the cup of Omensetter's hands. Time goes coolly through the funnel of his fingers — click, click, click — like water over stones. When he had lately felt the wind he seldom had another feeling; yet there were moments, as if in dream, when he could plunge his hand into the air and feel the stream at the lip of Being, and the hesitating water. There was a bather at the precipice with breasts as great as God's, nippled as the berry bush, bright as frost. Corn golden hair was gathered to His thighs. Not in my image. Nothing like me. But in the dream that disabled him, he was afloat on the brink, poised above the incredible gulf like a bird, while each minute frightened him by passing over. With his hands on his ears he could feel them falling. Below lay an empty plain where the bright stream dried. It then became a road that thinned to a rail in the cold horizon. He heard the roar of a miracle coming, a long beak looking for snakes.

A soft plop. The air rushed out.

It's going to rain, you can see that.

Henry withdrew his hand.

The rent is due. I'll walk.

Walk. Walk. He'll walk too. You'll pass.

Likely, he said, fetching his coat.

Is walking what the doctor ordered? Whoo. Our room was stuffy as a tomb last night. Didn't you feel it? I don't want him here heaven knows, that beast. He's like an animal. Breathes like an animal. Awf. Smells like an animal. Heaven knows I don't want him here.

That's why I'm going. He won't come.

Oh no it's not. He'll come. He'll come along. You want to meet him out of sight of me, that's all. You should stay right here and rest. He's just a beast, a beast. And with her big lately he's been a while without her — unless he never paid any mind to her pain.

Lucy, please.

Now they've had that boy it'll be a bit before he'll dare to come at her again, I'd think. Imagine that fat creature sprawled on top of you. I'll bet there's fur on him there like a tom cat's.

For Christ's sake.

Oh pooh, don't be a prude.

She plunged her spoon into a bowl.

I wonder how poor Matthew can afford him, she said in a quieter voice. He can't make as much as his rent, I'm certain of that.

I wish to god—

Salt. Wasn't it last time I left out the salt? You remember. They were flat. You complained all evening and it was wretchedly hot.

Sometimes she made Henry think of steam — of something dangerously vaporous and white — but she stood at the counter now as stiff and metallic as the spoon whose edge she wore around and around in the bowl that she pressed into her stomach.

Well he works hard and I'm sure he's worth what he's getting… You're down there most of the day since your sickness.

Omensetter saved my life. You hate him for it.

Oh for sweet sakes, Hen, you know you always denied it. You never said he saved your life before. That sort of magic? You only want to rile me.

She suddenly turned to him with a weak sad face.

I've a lot to complain of myself, Hennie, not just about salt, Hennie — a lot to complain of. You know. . our… and, oh you oughtn't to do me this way, Hen.

Her face grew hard again.

Well. Wasn't that what you said? It was Doctor Orcutt, I thought, you gave your gratefuls to. Hoosh. My arm tires easy. In this, kitchen. You should have seen him in this kitchen — my personal place. Chopping beets. These counters aren't my height. Well they weren't made for me but for your mother of course. He stained the wood in them badly, you can see it — there — there—

No, those—

See — over there — and here — and there — there — ah the dirty beast.

She released the spoon and put her palm on the counter; began patting the wood.

Your mother, now, could stir a day and never sigh more than her usual.

Well he works. He's handy.

Oh I'm sure Matthew never regrets him. He is handy.

She set the bowl down with a jar.

Though what an easy fool he is to dance the tune for both of you.

Mat pays him properly, and after all, he's grown.

Hoo. He's huge. Takes care of his children on that, does he? And his wife too? She must be mighty saving. What is he owing you?

He pays, he pays.

Lalee. Of course he pays. He's what, if I weren't such a well-raised lady, I would call a poor stupid bastard — a poor stupid bastard.

Well, Lucy that's one thing — you are a lady. She looked at him sharply.

More than you're a decent man, she said.

Then she began to cry and turned from the counter to blow her nose.