‘I was just joking,’ Foster said. ‘Just a little joke. Here, have some more whisky.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Vida?’ Foster said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Another sip would be just wonderful. It’s relaxing.’
‘It’s the old Indian tranquillizer,’ Foster said.
‘You can take care of this place for a day or so while we’re down in Mexico getting the abortion,’ I said. ‘It won’t kill you to actually put in a day’s work. It’s been years since you’ve turned a wheel.’
‘I have my work up, at the caves,’ he said. ‘It’s quite a responsibility lugging books up there and putting them away, guarding them and making sure cave seepage doesn’t get to them.’
‘Cave seepage!’ I said, horrified.
‘Forget I said that,’ Foster said. ‘I don’t want to go into it right now, but OK, I’ll stay here and take care of the library until you get back. I don’t like it but I’ll do it.’
‘Cave seepage?’ I repeated.
‘What do I have to do around here?’ Foster said. ‘How do I deal with the nuts that bring their books in? What do you do here, anyway? Have some whisky. Tell me all about it.’
Vida was very amused by what was going on. She certainly was pretty. We were all very relaxed lying there on the bed. The whisky had made us mud-puddly at the edges of our bodies and the edges of our minds.
This is delightful,’ Vida said.
Foster’s Girl #1
‘What’s that?’ Foster said, almost moving on the bed.
‘That’s the bell,’ I said. ‘Somebody is out there with a new book for the library. I’ll show you how we honour a hook into the library. “Welcome it” is the phrase I use.’
‘Sounds like a funeral parlour,’ Foster said. ‘Damn, what time is it?’ Foster looked around the room. ‘I can hear it ticking.’
I looked over at the clock. Foster couldn’t see it because of the way he was lying on the bed.
‘After midnight,’
‘That’s kind of late to bring a book in, isn’t it? Midnight? That’s twelve.’
‘We’re open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. We never close,’ I said.
‘Good God!’ Foster said.
‘See what I mean?’ Vida said.
‘Do I,’ Foster said. ‘This boy needs a rest.’
Then he looked over at Vida. He appraised her in a classic computerized masculine manner without being obvious or sensual and he liked what he saw.
Vida looked at him smiling gently without disturbing her mouth. It remained unchanged by her smile. I believe this thing has been gone into before.
She was not the same girl who had brought her book in a few months before. She had become somebody else with her body. ‘Yes,’ Foster said, finally. ‘Yes, maybe we had better go out and see who’s bringing in a book. We don’t want to keep her, I mean, them waiting. It’s cold outside.’
Foster had never been aware of cold in his entire life, so he was a little drunk and his imagination had just gone into full gallop.
‘What do you do out there?’ Foster said. ‘Maybe I’ll just go out there and take care of it myself. You kids can sit here and relax. No reason to stop being comfortable when old Foster’s around. I’ll take care of that book myself. Besides, I have to find out what’s going on here if I’m going to run this asylum while you’re in TJ.’
Vida’s smile had opened until now you could see the immaculate boundaries of her teeth. Her eyes had small friendly lightning walking across them.
I was smiling, too.
‘What do you do out there? You write down the title of the book and the name of the writer and a little something about the book into that big black ledger, huh?’
‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘And you have to be friendly, too. That’s important. To make the person and the book feel wanted because that’s the main purpose of the library and to gather pleasantly together the unwanted, the lyrical and haunted volumes of American writing.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Foster said. ‘You have to be kidding.’
‘Come on, Foster,’ I said. ‘Or I’ll bring up “cave seepage” again. You know “cave seepage”.’
‘All right. All right. All right, cuckoo,’ Foster said. ‘I’ll be on my best and besides, who knows: I might want to be on my best. I’m not such a bad guy. Come to think of it, I’ve got a lot of friends. They may not admit it, but I’m a big place in their hearts.’
The bell was still ringing but it was growing weak and needed immediate attention. Foster was by now off the bed. He ran his hand through his buffalo-heavy blond hair as if to comb it before going out to the library.
Blank like Snow
While Foster went into the library to welcome his first book, Vida and I continued lying there on the bed taking little nips from the bottle of whisky he had graciously left behind. After a while Vida and I were so relaxed that we both could have been rented out as fields of daisies.
Suddenly, we had lost track of time, Foster came slamming into the room. He was very angry in his overweight T-shirt sweating kind of way.
‘I think we’d better close this nuthouse while you’re south,’ he said, demanding whisky with his right hand. ‘Come to think of it, we should close this God-damn place forever. Everybody go home. Pick up their marbles. That is, if they have any left.’
Foster gobbled down a big turkey slug of whisky. He grimaced and shook when it hit his stomach. ‘That’s better,’ he said, wiping his hand across his mouth.
‘What happened? Vida said. ‘It looks like your library vaccination didn’t take.’
‘You’re telling me. More whisky!’ Foster said, addressing the bottle as if it were a healing hand of balm.
‘I hope you didn’t frighten them,’ I said. ‘That’s not the purpose of this library. It’s a service, not a demand that we perform here.’
‘Frighten them? Are you kidding, kid? It was the other God-damn way around. Hell, I usually get along with people.’
‘What happened?’ Vida repeated.
‘Well, I went out there and it wasn’t exactly who I expected would be there. I mean, they were standing outside and—’
‘Who was it?’ Vida said.
‘A woman?’ I said, a little mercilessly.
‘It’s not important} Foster said. ‘Let me continue, damn it! Yes, there was a woman out there and I use the word woman with serious reservation. She was ringing the bell and she had a book under her arm, so I opened the door. That was a mistake.’
‘What did she look like?’ I said.
‘It’s not important,’ Foster said.
‘Come on,’ Vida said. ‘Tell us.’
Ignoring us, Foster continued telling the story in his own manner. ‘When I opened the door she opened her mouth at the same time. “Who are you?” she demanded to know in a voice just like a car wreck. What the hell!
‘ “I’m Foster,” I said.
‘ “You don’t look like any Foster I’ve ever seen,” she said. “I think you’re somebody else because you’re no Foster.”
‘ “That’s my name,” I said. “I’ve always been Foster.”
‘ “Haa! but enough of you. Where’s my mother?” she demanded.
‘ “What do you mean, your mother? You’re too old to have a mother,” I said. I was tired of humouring the bag.
‘ “What do you want done with that book?” I said.
‘ “That’s none of your God-damn business, you impostor Foster. Where’s she at?”
‘ “Good night,” I said.
‘ “What do you mean, good night? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here until you tell me about my mother.”