Part 35 (1/2)
”h.e.l.lo.”
”Glad you could come Mr. Smith. Sally talks about you. Quite a lot.”
”Gee this is tense, isn't it. Let's break up. Claude you take Evangiline and introduce her. I'll take this cookee.”
”Sally you're drinking.”
”Smithy, I am not. Hey I am. Here, you too, best bubbling wine. How do you like it. The place.”
”Little breathtaking.”
”It's something isn't it.”
”Where does the staircase go.”
”Up. Two more crazy floors on top of this. And there's one room you're going to like. I always think of you when I'm in it. Don't get any ideas I'm not paying my way. I mean at least part. This is my place. I want you to like it, I really mean it. Come on. Take a drink. You don't want to meet people.”
”O.K.”.
”Isn't this nice, this staircase. Goes round. All the way up. I drop golf b.a.l.l.s from the top. Like a crazy roulette. See which one of the stairs it bounces back up on. O Smithy.”
”Sally.”
”Smithy.”
”Gee let's run up the stairs. Hold my hand. Bedroom's this floor. Another little library. And a c.r.a.pper there too. What I always wanted. Books and a c.r.a.pper side by side. Isn't that a crazy little table. There. I polish it every day. Put the fresh dog flower there. Still got yours. Pressed it in a book, how to succeed in business or something like that, so it would sort of help you along. Now. In here. How do you like it.”
”Miss Tomson.”
”Isn't it something.”
”An altar.”
”Yesh.”
”I don't know quite what to say, Miss Tomson.”
”I play organ music. Burn insense. And I sit in there. Have die delicatessen bring me around smoked salmon, potato salad, olives and maybe ham. On rye bread.”
Smith standing in the gloam. On the last step down into this high ceilinged room. An altar set with tabernacle. Candles flickering. Reflecting on Smith's s.h.i.+mmering lapels. Miss Tomson's dress floating out from her hips and narrow waist. An emerald set in silver above her milky white b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her long slightly helpless arms.
”Come down, Smithy. Here. You light one. I'll light one. Put them here together.”
Smith lighting his candle. And lighting Miss Tom-son's. Pressing the white wax on the bra.s.s spike. Oriental carpet. Tapestries under the high window. Strange blue black gla.s.s on the sky. Miss Tomson's sedan chair of glistening hide. Where she sits listening and chewing. Two new flames. Goldminers naked holding hands in front of theirs. Ask Sally. Can we kneel. Clothingless. But all the people, her friends, a distant swell of voices.
”We're going to be married in here. Sort of special ceremony after the church. O gee. I didn't want it to be like this. You like me, don't you.”
”I do.”
”Gosh, I know. I like you. Smithy it's your eyes. I don't know. I don't want to cut you out of my life. The part you were playing was swell.”
”And small.”
”Come on. It's important. But a guy, when you love him and you're his. Well like a rag doll. You get thrown in the corner when they're finished with you.”
”I wouldn't throw you in the corner.”
”Smithy, Jesus. That's what I'm thinking. O s.h.i.+t, that's what I'm thinking. Sorry about the language.”
”That's all right.”
”Just to avoid getting shunted by guys. I got a career. Wanted my freedom. I only got these looks for so long, I guess, to drive guys crazy. Aren't our flames nice there. Wish my body was big enough I could spread it around and you could have it too. Like could send it over to you when you needed it. You look sweet. Right now. Funny, you're always hanging around in my mind, in your crazy old clothes. With your quaint little problems. Glad you brought your mother with you.”
”That's cruel.”
”Who is she.”
”A very old friend.”
”She's pretty impressive, I'm only kidding about the age, she's pretty beautiful too. I'm jealous. Never seen you in evening clothes before. It's a revelation.”
”Why do you sigh like that.”
”I don't know Smithy. I throw guys over because they try to own me, I never threw you over. And gee, your invitation. There it is, resting here on the altar. It's great. Ha ha, I'm dying to get there.”
”You're s.h.i.+vering. Miss Tomson.”
”Yesh. Funniest thing. Keep thinking I'm carrying black lillies up the aisle.”
Miss Tomson raising one eye brow. One smiling eye in her head. The other so sad. Looking slowly down Smith's elegance. Stopping at his fly and smiling. Smith laying a modest hand across.
”Miss Tomson, really.”
”Gee Smithy, it's right there. Wow, I better turn on some music.”
Tomson turning k.n.o.bs. A control panel under a shelf of books. Faint drums and horns. She's so beautiful. Lights up the darkness of the room. Can I tell her. Save her. Say, Sally let me spill my blood. A bit. For you. So scared all those weeks you weren't there. That I was too small time. Too much of nothing and you were everything. With all the people you knew. My mangy little office. Horsehair sofa. A bath running rusty water. You lived so high up, it was a long way to reach you. Each time I phoned it rang in the distance. And I'd hear a s.h.i.+p's horn trumpeting in the river. Boop. Boop. I thought of the deep deep water and maybe you had gone away altogether. Then I got hard. Wished I was famous, wished I was the center of attraction with friends calling, going in and out of my life. And I said, and shouted, you were cheap and sham. Worth nothing, just a climbing b.i.t.c.h, sticking heels in faces. You are. Because you must. Do what you're doing. I'm married in all my chains. That in a big world, where we touched hands. Whispered. Told each other tiny sorrows. It's all there is. Can't ask for more. Because there is no more. Only a moment of feeling skin, your heart under your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and screaming in your ear as you grabbed me by the simple a.r.s.e. That was it.
”Sally, I don't want to lose you.”
”O.”.
”I don't.”
”Gee.”
”I don't want to lose you.”
”I know.”