When he asked me through the door who I was, I said I was producing a television show on Literature. The first thing I saw when he opened up was the bandage across his cheek. His eyes bulged when I gave him a hard right to the stomach. He folded in half. I went in, closed the door behind me, and delivered another one. This time he went down to his knees. It hurt me to see him like that-eyes popping out and mouth twisted in an inaudible cry-it hurt me. I sent him rolling into the living room with my foot.
He landed under a table. Ile tried to get up, but I was on him in two steps. I grabbed him by the lapels of his housecoat and twisted my fist in it to strangle him. I dragged him coughing and spitting to an armchair, and sat down. I let up a little on the lapels, so he could catch his breath, but at the same time gave him a sharp knee in the nose, to maintain the psychological edge. I moved aside quickly to keep the blood from getting all over me.
“If you think I’m doing this because you shit on my book, you’re wrong,” I said. “Has nothing to do with that.”
He slowly got his breath back. His face was finger-painted in blood from his touching his nose. I held him fast.
“If you think that, you’re wrong,” I repeated. “Real wrong, you get me?”
I fired my fist into the top of his skull. He let out a moan.
“I don’t hold it against you, because it isn’t really your fault, I recognize that. I didn’t write the book for someone like you. So let’s consider that a simple misunderstanding-no harm done. That’s all there is to say as far as you and me go. You agree?”
He let me know he agreed. I grabbed him by the hair and yanked. Our eyes met.
“Still, you don’t know shit from shinola,” I said.
I punched him in the ear. I took the telephone in my lap.
“I’ll make it brief,” I said. “That girl is the only thing that counts in my life. So you take this phone and you withdraw your complaint, or I’ll be forced to do something unpleasant, okay?”
All those swear words echoing in that room furnished in Louis XVI-it was like sprinkling confetti on the bed of a dying man. He nodded his head immediately, a small bubble of blood hanging from his lip. I tied a noose around his neck with the telephone cord and then let him be. I listened in while he told his little story to the cops.
“Good,” I said. “Now say it one more time…”
“But…”
“I said say it again.”
He repeated the magic words in a tired voice and I gave him a sign to hang up the phone. I sat there deciding whether or not to smash a few more things before leaving, but I thought better of it-I was starting to lose my nerve. I pulled the cord just a little, to squeeze his Adam’s apple.
.
“You’d be foolish not to forget this ever happened,” I said. “It’s up to you if we ever see each other again. Of the two of us, it’s me who’s got less to lose.”
He looked at me, his head nodding, fingers clenched on the telephone cord. The blood was starting to dry on his nose-blood is something that never lasts too long. For a moment I almost asked myself what I was doing there. I’m used to that kind of change, though-l can slip from one level of consciousness to another with the ease of a leaf floating down a river, regaining its gentle pace after falling over a sixty-foot waterfall. The guy was nothing to me. He was just the cheap image of something that had nothing to do with reality.
I left without saying another word. I quietly closed the door behind me. Outside I got a hit off the icy wind.
We made a lot of money at the pizzeria Christmas Eve-a real haul. Eddie couldn’t believe his eyes. We went all out. The night before I’d brought in double the usual amount of champagne, without saying anything. Now there was only one bottle left standing, and there was money overflowing from all sides. It was almost daylight by the time the last customer left. We were dead. Lisa put her arms around my neck; she’d worked all night with us and done a hell of a job. I picked her up by the waist and sat her on the counter.
“Tell me what I can get you,” I said.
“I want something fabulous,” she said.
Betty melted into a chair, sighing.
“Make that two,” she said.
I went up to her, raised her chin, and kissed her theatrically. I could hear them laughing behind me, but I didn’t care. I took my time. I found that it was even better after the kind of day we’d had-a broiling kiss served up hot. Then I went and started on the drinks, Mario came around to see what was going on, but was too tired to stay-he just kissed the two girls and split. I’d made enough for five, which left us with four very full glasses. It was something I’d come up with on the spur of the moment, something a bit rough around the edges.
It leveled Eddie right off the bat. He didn’t notice, but everyone else did. He started regaling us with some wild idea about seeing the sun rise over the snow. He couldn’t live without seeing it.
“What the hell are you bothering us with that shit for?” I said.
“Man, can you imagine anything prettier? What’s Christmas without a little snow?”
“It’s like a peanut with nobody inside.”
“Hey, we can go in the car. Try not to spoil my fun, okay?”
I felt the girls going soft. They were not particularly low on the idea.
“Shit, you have any idea what it’ll be like out there in the cold? You playing with a full deck, guy?”
“I just want to see your face when the first rays come through the flakes. I want to see you wisecrack then…”
“It’s not that. I’m sure it’s great-the sun, the snow, and all that stuff-it’s certainly awesome, but it’s not that. What I’m wondering, Eddie, is just how you think you’re going to drive in the condition you’re in?”
“Shit,” he said. “Shit-I’m going to teach you something. There is no condition that I can’t drive a car in.”
His eyes were shining like flying saucers. It’s the gin, I said to myself. I had to admit that I’d been a little heavy-handed with the gin-I’d let myself go.
“You’re going to get us all killed!” I said.
Everyone laughed, except me. Five minutes later we were in the car, waiting for Eddie to find the keys. I sighed softly. “What’s with you?” he said. “Don’t you think this is fun? It’s Christmas-don’t worry about a thing! Everything’s going to be hunky-dory. Here they are…”
He jingled his keys under my nose and one of them gave me a spark-blue and cold. Nice little cunt of a key, I thought-go piss up a rope. I hunched down in my seat.
We crossed town in the wee hours. The streets were practically deserted, and that made it nice-we could drive down the middle at low speeds, spotting the lights from far away in the mild dawn fog. I wondered where all the people were, if the sidewalk hadn’t swallowed them in the night. The girls were laughing in the backseat. We left the city, headed for the blazing horizon, we had to hurry. We all had drawn-out faces-all so tired. Still, a new energy slowly slid into the car. We rounded the cape and headed for the sun on that December morning, lighting cigarettes and talking nonsense, while a new day was getting ready to be lived. We drove for a while, until we came to a snow-covered field. There were a few large buildings-factories-in the background, but we didn’t have time to find anything better. By then it was a matter of minutes. We parked on the side of the road. The sky was clearing. There was the sensation of abominable temperatures-approaching zero, with icy winds. We got out of the car anyway, slapping our arms.
In two seconds flat, my nose started running, and my eyes teared. Seats were expensive for this early bloodless morning-it was enough to make your hair fall out. After the work we’d put in the night before, the tranquility of this little corner of the world seemed somehow grotesque. I mean it. Eddie had his hat pulled down over his eyes; he was smoking a cigarette and sitting on the hood of the car, his face turned toward the flames.