A Singular Man by J. P. Donleavy
"You say that every time you come, George. You're dressing differently George."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be ashamed, George, it's an improvement. How's fat."
"I'm not answering that."
"George she's fat. O.K. how's Matilda."
"She's all right."
"Make nice yummy meals as usual."
"Matilda's quite adequate as a cook."
"Well guess so long as that's all you use her for that's swell."
"For your information I don't fornicate with my servants."
"No one has ever suggested such a thing. Excuse me while I get dressed, the kids are locked in the cellar, you're safe."
"Very thoughtful."
"Knew you'd see it that way."
Smith saw cross the sitting room. Wide maple floors. Great brick oven fireplace and glass doors to the garden shutting out the winter. Nearly ten years ago. My God I was young. And today take a frosty journey to suffer a stream of smart remarks. The way I met her first by paying for her ticket on a train and I've been paying for her ever since. When people are fidgeting through a handbag with a conductor hanging over you, naturally you want to be of assistance. And so for my few pennies of kindness I purchased a nice background of fast back chat, the big pile of brown hair, George get your hands in this, shoe bills, George you know how I need a change since everybody looks at my legs. Then once in the courtship she said she wanted to say something serious, something she knew I would understand and she wouldn't be misunderstood. She said promise you won't mind. I said of course. She said George, I know you speak very educated and I know there are awful things like those who live on one side of the tracks and those who live on the other side of the tracks. Well, George, this is my problem, you know what side of the tracks I'm from and it's not my fault that it's the best side, but what side of the tracks are you from, George. Don't answer if you don't want, George. You're hurt now George, aren't you, that there's a track running between us. It's only sometimes, George, that your grammar and I know you may be only using this sort of usage to be funny, but even your selection of ties and shirts, now please, we both know that there are two sides to every track and matters not a damn really except that there are two sides. George what side of the track are you from. And we had that litde talk on a train. Which while we were talking was putting people on their side of the tracks. I was confused and must admit terribly flustered. I had no warning except having a remark of mine remade by her and she'd add, sounds better that way. I never told her what side of the tracks I was from. And I suppose she assumed it went right through my house. Wow was I deeply shocked by her question and woo hoo, surprised she ever felt it needed an answer. And a big dark hand came out and pushed the sun out of our togetherness. Still I took a fistful of the brown hair. With no mention of tracks when I was taking it.
"Penny for your thoughts, George/'
"OI was just thinking."
"About money."
"No."
"Do you like these things you just slip on. Do you think it suits me, don't you think it has that Saturday lunch about it."
Shirl stopping abruptly to shift a hip in front of George, throwing out the cloth just so. This Friday lunch feeling, the snow outside, kids in the cellar, the presence of the kid's father, a half mile of open country in every direction two feet deep in whiteness.
"Hey George stay for dinner and I'll show you something else I got, gorgeous things for feet in gold thread. Hey. Your mind's so far away, George. You take being a father so seriously. Trudge through the snow with your little presents. Get left on the stoop of your own house. Do we cost too much."
"Enough."
"We cost too much."
"You're saying it, not me."
"How's business, George."
"Depressingly full of insult."
"O you poor ruthless thing, let me get something cold to put on your head."
"I think Til be going. There's no point having you irresponsibly get at me. As regards cost, I'm indifferent."
"So funny how you changed. You must have been the tightest guy I ever met. Remember the time -"
"Now shut up."
"Gee."
The time was a dance. Not long after I met her on the train. I was leaning out with my hand to touch her on the eight o'clock summer evening like to take a handful of that brown thatch. She said don't touch me. She saw what this remark did to my face. She said O touch me, but later tonight when the dance is over, I don't want to look mussed. Touch me then, then I'll love being touched. She said people will have to see me tonight, I want to look well groomed, just that I hate being touched, well like a meal on the table before everyone is ready to eat, you don't want me to feel all tampered with, don't you want to save it all for later. I took my hand away, and wore it in my pocket. I went standing around the dance, along the edges when the couples glided by and she smiled over the shoulders. The music stopped, she ran right across the floor, grabbed me, hands on the lapel and said we're all going road housing and wild and ending up at the country club, it'll all be crazy hitting the golfballs in the lake, and crazy when we get really crazy. I put my other hand in my pocket and was wearing them both there, she said what's the matter, I said I didn't know, she said you do, I said it's expensive a night like this. She just said there's Claude. And Claude never wilted at expense, just went into his thin folder and took out a single note of massive denomination. I should have turned then for home. But I couldn't because she would have gone with them and what if the night were crazy and she could say when she was a meal ready to eat, grab me by my brown thatch. I went in an-c other car, she was a plaything for the crowd. At the top of a table suggesting all the songs. Dripping candle wax on Claude's hair and he worshipped her for it and it just made him look like the victim of some crime following after of course the crime his father and mother committed getting him. She made him open his mouth and she dripped it down his throat. I thought she was carrying my being a cheapskate too far. I got up, walked across the maple, stepped through, and on the flag stones looked out at the shadows of the hills and down over the trees to the long lake. Hands flat out on the wall and she came out and saw me and thought I was vomiting. I said I ought to be. She said you have no rights on me, I'm not your possession, these are my friends, I've known them most of my life, if anything they have more claim on me than you have, but if you'd stopped your little act of silence and sulking and joined in the fun or if you just said you had no money, that you couldn't afford, or said something like that, why wouldn't I understand, I know some poor people too, but they don't mind spending money. She stepped back, put her hand under my chin and lifted it up. She said look at me, I want you to look at me, I'm commanding you to look at me, now smile, smile, bigger, O.K. you can take a handful of my brown thatch.
And today ten years later and three days before silent night holy night when business volume is at a peak and downstairs a loud bellowing noise in the cellar with four kids pounding on the pipes. And Shirl swirling with her new cocktail dress. And I told her to shut up, and wham she goes all silent. My how things have changed. There was reason for my being the way I was. When I was young. When Shirl one weekend fell for some big blond brute who she said lifted her up and kissed her against a wall with her feet dangling. But we had got too close then and she went away a weekend begging she had to, would I let her go because she needed to stay in circulation just so she could still stay exciting to me. She said let's play with each other's emotions. Torture each other with jealousy, let's George betray the faith we have in each other and build it all up again after. And just this one weekend with the blond brute, so she could walk in the gates of the college and the blond brute could brag about how she was his date. She came back to me with not much to say except when she talked about it she got shifty eyed and started breathing heavily. Then she said I hate the way you are, you never tried to stop me.
"George, I got an engagement tonight after dinner, so you don't mind we can call a
"I see."
Shirl when she says things picks something up off a table. Puts it back. Then she goes towards the kitchen and talks over her shoulder. Wags her behind. A neat compact soft thing in the days when I was in a position to feel it. I suppose if I just went up to her now and touched it. But I have no right to presume in our separated state that I could lay hand on this part of her. There's little more than I can take of this kind of thing, because I ought to take her and the dress off and give her a boot out in the snow. No one around here to complain, Mr. Smith seen driving the stitchless Mrs. Smith into the elements. I own this land.
"George, you're wearing your sense of ownership on your face."
"It's my face. You've got your own face."
"Gee thanks George."
"Anytime. What's your engagement."
"Interested. You want to come. These people are dying to meet you. Because you've got such a weird reputation. The way you swam at the island picnic last year. Everyone was impressed the way you dove into the cold water and stroked superbly out to the float, the masterful smoothness of your movements, I personally know for a fact all ladies were desperate to wiggle out of bathing garments and dive after you."
"Are you finished."
"George if you saw yourself. If you hadn't been so flamboyant no one would have minded."
"I almost drowned. That's not amusing. I took a very discreet dive. I have never tried to show off swimming."
"Sometimes I wonder where all the big strong men in this world have gone. If there ever were any."
"I was drowning. Big strong men can drown as well as people like myself. I mean I'm not all that weak."
"Boxing and wrestling lessons at The Game Club."
"Who told that."
"Never mind. Got your face beat in, too, I heard."
"Balls. Who told you that. I want to know where you got that information."
"Ittle George."
"Shut up, Shirl."
"I guess this is just like all our weekends. O you're just one big great long bluff."
"I reject that."
"George what's that. Hey what's that red thing. You're not wearing long red underwear."
"I'll wear whatever I feel like and stop torturing me."
"George, you're made for it. Look at what I had to do to make you masterful And soon as I made you masterful and you made money -"
"Do not mention money, Shirl."
"So anyway I made you masterful."
"I'm masterful myself."
"The only time traffic will stop for you, George, is when you're dead."
"Get me my galoshes."
Dust sifting through the sunlight. When the silence gets terrible and Shirl sees an ash white face on a once gentle Smith. Like a sudden thoughtful finger up to her lips.
"George. I'm sorry I said that."
"It's all right, get me my galoshes."
"I really am sorry I said it. I wish I didn't say it. Strike me for saying it, George. Strike me anywhere you want."
"I'll get the galoshes myself."
"George I beg of you to strike me for saying it. I say the wrong things. That come into my head and I wish you wouldn't listen."
Shirl silent at the door. Leaving it open with the chill wind rushing into the house as George walked out. The lane along the orchard, in summer such a sweet place of tall grass and black snakes. And now they must be sleeping under the rocks. And it seemed on the air that a voice shouted something more but it got cold and hushed. Snow plow moving down the road, leaving a wide track and high drifts. Driver wearing orange ear muffs. Only thing I noticed. And going afi the way back I hardly knew I was going. Could have relented, tucked down the dinner and took a car back. I'm like that. Withdraw utterly from the ultimate insult. And left the kids in the cellar. Not that they like me anyway. Take my money, and then look me in the eye and say who asked you to be our father. That's the kind of remark those kids make. They were watching out a cellar window, heard their mother screaming she didn't mean it, that she'd take it all back. Be a new one for the kids. Gee, dad was like a clam, walked right away in the snow and he never turned around.
The Goose Goes Inn with several cars collected and some guests throwing snowballs one of which caught Smith between the shoulder blades making a round white blot on his coat as he climbed the hollow wooden steps. His dispirited nature and oblivion drew some comments about the fellowship this time of year of some people wasn't worth mentioning. Inside, the Christmas tree, tinsel and strains of music of the modern yule variety from the cocktail lounge. Crossing the lobby for the key.
"Sir there have been three phone calls."
"I'm not in to anybody."
"Not to anybody. They said it was urgent and tell you soon as you got in."
"I'm going for a nap."
Worried looking receptionist. Don't worry, it's just Shirl who thinks I may be wiring instructions to my bank where they've got all my legal tender neatly stacked from which they take and send a handful often to Shirl. She's afraid she might have to sell her horse and the kids' ponies, cut down the guest list, summer itineraries. While I sit in that box with my secretary's exboy-friends spying from buildings across Golf Street. Opening letters of obnoxious intimidators. Sure, go ahead, buy that fabric with the lunch look, get a dinner, breakfast, any look you want.
Sadly Smith derobed. Plunging into a steaming shower to unfreeze the muscles and bones. And put a face to the showering water and breathe it up the nose. Feel it cascade off the privates so lonely these days. Only thing bright about climbing into this afternoon bed is the red underwear. To sleep, lay with a hand outstretched on the pillow, open, palm upwards, will someone's head lie back in it, tighten a fist up in the brown thatch. Can you ever go back to bodies where you've been, once you've left. Count the cherries in the bowl and see if I've got the most. Join hands while music plays. See summer lanterns burn the fireflies. Or walk by an autumn river, stand against a tree just seeing each other in the ordinary afternoon. You make a baby. Then you can't sleep at night. Go to a park bench for two years to catch up. Another baby comes. Finally one day you can breathe. And these former babies tell you stop breathing.
Smith rolled over, pulling up the crisp sheets. Digging toes down. Self employed slave. Shirl never made me masterful. If anything she's contributed to my cringing. Dazzling crowds in train stations the tanned beauty in white linen suits while I was just walking along behind looking like her employee. Telling me to do the right thing so people will be impressed. No one could take their eyes off her eyes, her legs, hair and I started grabging on all sides. Goodnight now. And hello. I see a woman walking along a road wearing nothing but a cardboard sign which she's showing me and it says be my valentine. And jumping into a fast car, making for the highest hill, I erected another sign which you can see for miles around and it said, in no uncertain words, you bet.
The phone by George's bed was ringing and ringing. It's dark. Must be late. Grab this ringing thing. Just pushed my glass of water over. I can't face turning on the light. O.K., what is it, phone, what are you going to tell me out of that black hole.
"Mr. Smith."
"Yes."
"Sorry to disturb you but there seems that there is a Mrs. Smith—"
"No calls from Mrs. Smith, please."
"But she's not calling, Mr. Smith."
"What is she doing."
"She's smoking and having a drink."
"You've just woken me out of a sound sleep to be flippant."
"She's in the lobby. Said she'd stay till I got you."
"Tell her to go away."
"Mr. Smith I'm afraid you'll have to do that yourself."
"Tell her to come up."
"Yes."
God here I am in the red underwear inviting disaster and laughs. Better to face this situation stark naked. She'll wonder what I'm doing in bed at eight thirty in the evening, my life, my body, I'll put it in bed whenever I want. Second thoughts wh
"Come in."
"George, may L"
"You may."
"No light."
"I know."
"Where are you George."
"In bed."
"Can't we have some light."
"No."
"Well can I come in."
"Come in."
"Should I close the door."
"Close it."
"Is it all right with you if I sit down."
"By all means. There's a chair three paces to your right."
"Thank you George."
"Any time."
"I've got it."
"Good."
"Can I talk, George."
"Sure."
"You know what I want to say, George."
"Beep beep."
"What's that funny noise you're making."
"You mean, beep beep."
"Yes, beep beep."
"O that's just beep beep."
"Sounds strange coming out of the dark."
"Beep beep."
"George."
"Yes Shirl."
"George."
"I'm listening Sha."
"I sound so loud in the dark."
"Beep beep."
"Don't do that George. Please."
"Beep beep."
"I know I deserve it George."
"Deserve what."
"Beep beep."
"Beep beep."
"George are we cars."
"You said it."
"I wanted you to see my gold slippers George."
"Too dark."
"Yeah. But do you want to feel my gold slippers."
"Stand back."
"I know I deserve it George. Do whatever you want to me."
"Pretty risky talk."
"I want to be risky."
"What are you doing Shirl."
"I'm undoing."
"Beep beep, I'm a car."