Part 16 (1/2)

'Goodness, what cold knees - from wearing those pants without the legs!' said Ronda Ray. 'Come in here and get warm.'

I stumbled out of my shorts, and she said, 'Goodness, what cold arms - from wearing that s.h.i.+rt without the sleeves!' And I struggled out of that, too. I got out of my running shoes, managing to conceal the wad of money by stuffing it into the toe of one shoe.

And I wonder if it wasn't making love under the squawk-box system that coloured my feelings about s.e.xual intercourse from that moment on. Even now - when I'm almost forty - I am inclined to whisper. I remember begging Ronda Ray to whisper, too.

'I could have screamed at you to ”speak up” ' Franny told me later. 'It made me so d.a.m.n mad - all that silly whispering whispering!'

But there were other things I might have told Ronda Ray if I hadn't known that Franny could hear. I never really thought about Frank, although I would always tend to see him - throughout our lives, together and apart - as stationed at an intercom, somewhere, listening in on love. I imagine Frank as listening in on love with the same displeased expression he wore for most of his tasks: a vague but widespread distaste, even bordering on disgust.

'You're quick, John-O, you're very quick,' Ronda Ray told me.

'Please whisper,' I told her, talking in a m.u.f.fled voice into her wildly colourful hair.

I owe my s.e.xual nervousness to this initiation - a feeling I have never quite escaped: that I've got to watch what I say and do, somehow, or risk betraying Franny. Is it because of Ronda Ray, in that first Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re, that I always always imagine Franny is listening in? imagine Franny is listening in?

'It sounded a little subdued,' Franny told me later. 'But I'm sure that's okay - for the first time.'

Thank you for not coaching, from the sidelines,' I told her.

'Did you really think I would?' she asked me, and I apologized; but I never knew what Franny would or wouldn't do.

'How's it coming with the dog, Frank?' I kept asking, as Christmas bore down upon us all.

'How's it coming with the whispering?' Frank asked. 'I notice it's been raining a lot, lately.'

Or, if it didn't really rain a lot - that year, just before Christmas - I admit I took the liberty of interpreting snow as almost rain; or even a cloudy morning that threatened to be rain or snow, sometime later. And it was one of those times, very near to Christmas - when I'd long ago given Frank and Franny back the wad of money I'd stuffed in my shoe - that Ronda Ray asked me, 'Do you know, John-O, that it's customary to tip tip a waitress?' And I got the picture; I wondered if Franny overheard me that morning - or overheard the subsequent crinkling of bills. a waitress?' And I got the picture; I wondered if Franny overheard me that morning - or overheard the subsequent crinkling of bills.

I spent my Christmas money on Ronda Ray.

I bought a little something for Mother and Father, of course. We were not big on gifts at Christmas - the idea was to give something silly. I think I got Father an ap.r.o.n to wear behind the bar at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re; it was one of those ap.r.o.ns with a stupid slogan on it. I think I got Mother a china bear. Frank always got Father a tie and Mother a scarf, and Mother gave the scarves to Franny, who wore them every which way, and Father gave the ties back to Frank, who liked ties.

For Christmas, 1956, we made something special for Iowa Bob: a framed, blown-up photograph of Junior Jones scoring Dairy's only touchdown against Exeter. That was not so silly, but everything else was. Franny bought Mother a s.e.xy dress that Mother would never wear. Franny was hoping Mother would give it to her, but Mother would never have allowed Franny to wear it, either.

'She can wear it for Father when they visit old Three E,' Franny told me, in a grouchy mood.

Father bought Frank a bus driver's uniform, because Frank was so fond of uniforms; Frank would wear it when he played doorman at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re. On those rare occasions when we had more than one overnight guest, Frank liked to pretend that there was always a doorman at the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re. The bus driver's uniform was the good old Dairy death-grey colour; the pants and the jacket sleeves were too short for Frank, and the cap was too large, so that Frank had an ominous, seedy-funeral-parlour look to him when he let in the guests.

'Welcome to the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re!' he practiced saying, but it always sounded as if he didn't mean it.

No one knew what to get Lilly - certainly not a dwarf, or an elf, or anything little.

'Give her food food!' Iowa Bob suggested, a few days before Christmas. My family never went in for all this organized Christmas shopping s.h.i.+t, either. It was always down-to-the-last-minute with us, although Iowa Bob made a big deal about the tree that he chopped down in Elliot Park one morning: it was too large to stand up in the restaurant of the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re without being cut in half. Iowa Bob suggested, a few days before Christmas. My family never went in for all this organized Christmas shopping s.h.i.+t, either. It was always down-to-the-last-minute with us, although Iowa Bob made a big deal about the tree that he chopped down in Elliot Park one morning: it was too large to stand up in the restaurant of the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re without being cut in half.

'You chopped down that lovely tree in the park!' Mother said.

'Well, we own the park, don't we?' Coach Bob said. 'What else do you do with trees?' He was from Iowa, after all, where you can see for miles - sometimes, without a tree in sight.

It was on Egg that we lavished the most presents, because he was the only one of us who was the prime age for Christmas that year. And Egg was very fond of things things. Everyone got him animals and b.a.l.l.s and tub toys and outdoor equiment - most of it junk that would be lost or outgrown or broken or under the snow before the winter was over.

Franny and I found a jar of chimpanzee teeth in an antique store in Dairy, and we bought the teeth for Frank.

'He can use them in one of his stuffing experiments,' Franny said.

I was just as glad that we would not be giving Frank the teeth before before Christmas, because I feared that Frank might try to use them in his version of Sorrow. Christmas, because I feared that Frank might try to use them in his version of Sorrow.

'Sorrow!' Iowa Bob screamed aloud one night, just before Christmas, and we all sat up in our beds with our hair itching. 'Sorrow!' the old man called and we heard him bellow down the deserted third-floor hall. 'Sorrow!' he called.

'The old fool is having a bad dream,' Father said, thumping upstairs in his bathrobe, but I went into Frank's room and stared at him.

'Don't look at me,' Frank said. 'Sorrow's still down at the lab. He's not finished.'

And we all went upstairs to see what was the matter with Iowa Bob.

He had 'seen' Sorrow, he said. Coach Bob had smelled the old dog in his sleep, and when he woke up, Sorrow was standing on the old oriental rug - his favourite - in Bob's room. 'But he looked at me with such menace menace,' old Bob said. 'He looked like he was going to attack attack!'

I stared at Frank again, but Frank shrugged. Father rolled his eyes.

'You were having a nightmare,' he told his old dad.

'Sorrow was in this room!' Coach Bob said. 'But he didn't look look like Sorrow. He looked like he wanted to like Sorrow. He looked like he wanted to kill kill me. me.

'Hush, hush,' Mother said, and Father waved us out of the room; I heard him start talking to Iowa Bob that way I'd heard Father talk to Egg, or to Lilly - or to any of us children, when we were younger - and I realized that Father often talked to Bob that way, as if he thought his father was a child.

'It's that old rug,' Mother whispered to us kids. 'It's got so much dog hair on it that your grandfather can still smell Sorrow in his sleep.'

Lilly looked frightened, but Lilly often looked frightened. Egg was staggering around as if he were asleep on his feet.

'Sorrow is dead, isn't he?' Egg asked.

'Yes, yes,' Franny said.

'What?' Egg said, in such a loud voice that Lilly jumped.

'Okay, Frank,' I whispered in the stairwell. 'What pose pose did you put Sorrow in?' did you put Sorrow in?'

'Attack,' he said, and I shuddered.

I thought that the old dog, in resentment for the terrible pose he'd been condemned to, had come back to haunt the Hotel New Hamps.h.i.+re. He'd gone to Iowa Bob's room because Bob had Sorrow's rug.

'Let's put Sorrow's old rug in Frank's room,' I suggested, at breakfast.

'I don't want that old rug,' Frank said.

'I do do want that old rug,' said Coach Bob. 'It's perfect for my weights.' want that old rug,' said Coach Bob. 'It's perfect for my weights.'

'That was some dream you had last night,' Franny ventured to say.

'That was no dream, Franny,' Bob said, grimly. That was Sorrow - in the flesh,' said the old coach, and Lilly s.h.i.+vered so hard at the word 'flesh' that she dropped her cereal spoon with a clatter.