Frolic of His Own

by William Gaddis

  • • •

  —It’s the wear and tear, she’d repeat later, —not just on you Harry. I mean the wear and tear on all of us. Think about it.

  —Think about it! See it right there in the paper don’t you? how much is at stake here? Finally getting it cleared up and . . .

  —My God I know what’s at stake here, your bonus a senior partnership another million dollars for good old Bill Peyton and a nervous breakdown for all the rest of us? This fine psychiatric counselor they’re sending you to, did it ever occur to him that this car accident might have been trying to tell you something?

  —Well of course, stress, the whole damn thing he sees it all the time, he . . .

  —Harry?

  —That’s his whole practice, lawyers under stress billing twenty five hundred hours a year it comes with the territory, as many quit practicing a year as kids entering lawschool and cases like this, a car accident like . . .

  —Harry! I’m not talking about your car accident I’m talking about the rest of us! Does the firm plan to send us all for psychiatric counseling? or up to that rest farm where they get you off the bottle? Look at Oscar, isn’t his case as important to him as your billion dollar client’s is to them? Have you found out what in God’s name is going on there?

  —Look, Christina. Look, four hundred and twenty lawyers in the firm, a hundred partners, you think this is the only case we’re handling? The court heard Oscar’s appeal that’s all I know, Bill Peyton’s so damn busy on this case in the papers I don’t even know who made the arguments, tried to reach Sam must have been somebody on his staff who handled Oscar’s end but they said Sam’s just gone trout fishing in Norway nobody there seemed to know a damn thing about it can’t rush it Christina, can’t rush the system, if he’d taken that settlement we’d all be . . .

  —My God don’t you dare start that again! Where are you going now?

  —Getting a drink.

  —Trout fishing in Norway. You can get me one too.

  —Everything so damn complicated wherever you look, point’s not that anything that can go wrong will go wrong he said, tipping the bottle generously over two glasses, —wonder that even the smallest damn thing goes right at all.

  And surely enough, from one remote pinpoint on the globe to this one, among millions of doors to this very door in fact, in a negligible matter of days an array of trucks and airplanes stretching from Ultima Thule, of conveyor belts and sorters, diligent hands and trudging feet brought a picture postcard aptly captioned Ørret fiske i Surnadal, Norge, at a cost of a mere four kroner, little more than the price of the newspaper that same morning at that same door bringing

  Tatamount, Va. An unusual development has surfaced in the troubled saga of the notorious outdoor sculpture known as Cyclone Seven towering over this sleepy rural hamlet where it has been engulfed in controversy since its unveiling. It first caught the public eye with the accidental entrapment of a small dog in its serrated steel cavities, leading to a confrontation by the Village in an effort to free the puppy and the sculptor’s fierce defense of its artistic integrity. Following tumultuous demonstrations by partisans of both sides climaxed by the dog’s death when the structure was struck by lightning, the Village won a court order demanding its removal, against the sculptor’s claims citing its site specific status. The matter is again before the courts where each side has reversed its position.

  The sculptor, Mr R Szyrk of New York, now demands the Village pursue its mandated course permitting the structure’s removal, claiming his constitutional right to its eventual disposition as embodying a protected statement under the First Amendment. Pending the outcome of its petition for Landmark status the Village has refused removal or altering of the unique creation which has ‘put Tatamount on the map’ bringing substantial tourist revenues and jobs to this chronically depressed area where unemployment runs thirty nine percent among whites and double that for blacks, with a twenty six percent overall literacy rate.

  Since the plaintiff resides out of state the case will be heard in Federal district court by Judge Thomas Crease, who has already been subjected to vilification and abuse relating to lawsuits spawned by Cyclone Seven and is currently embroiled in his nomination to the U.S. Court of Appeals being vigorously opposed by Senator Orney Bilk, a native of nearby Stinking Creek, who is reported to have called for his impeachment.

  —Oscar I said no! spilling her coffee with a tug at the phone’s cord, and —I said don’t even dream of such a thing! recounting it later over a half eaten supper —my God, I mean can you imagine it?

  —Sounds like he wants us to adopt him.

  —Harry don’t even joke about it. He got hold of some old medical manual in Father’s library and he’s utterly convinced he’s got a broken sternum when Mudpye poked him in the chest for emphasis in their insane conversation about blacks and Jews and cracked his scapular with a slap on the shoulder when we left, he . . .

  —Any witnesses?

  —Well of course, we were all . . .

  —Sounds like he’s putting together a brand new lawsuit.

  —Do you think he hasn’t thought of that? I mean it’s perfectly ridiculous.

  —Most of them are.

  —Well you should know. I mean as revolting as he is he certainly wasn’t attacking Oscar, the last thing in the world he simply got carried away.

  —Nothing to do with it, Christina. Grabs his lapel it’s a threatening gesture, don’t have to exchange a word, it’s assault. Poking him, hitting him, laying a hand on him without his consent it’s battery.

  —Well my God, I mean you don’t break people’s bones tapping them on the chest do you? slapping him on the shoulder? And you think he’d believe a doctor who told him that? No. He called one out there who asked him if he was an older person, any history of osteoporosis and of course that simply made him more hell bent on coming in here to see a specialist to drag into court, can you picture it? Sleeping in there on the couch he wouldn’t be in our way at all, wouldn’t be any trouble he’d bring his work with him he said, might get a chance to see Sir John, have him up here for a drink to go over his play and give him a look at this place to show him we weren’t pikers, wouldn’t bother us at all because Lily would take care of anything he needed and . . .

  —No look Christina no, it’s absolutely not, where would she sleep it’s . . .

  —Lily will sleep where she’s sleeping right now! Do you think I’ve lost my mind too? I just said I’d told him not to even dream of such an idiotic idea didn’t I? They wouldn’t be in our way at all he said, drive in together when the car comes out to pick up that odious dog of course she’s forgotten all about it, I mean I don’t even want to think about it. The two of them sitting out there day after day eating boiled chicken, playing cards, watching the nature program looking out at that cold grey pond getting dark earlier every day while he turns into a nervous wreck waiting to hear about his appeal? I mean he even said he’d tried to call his new friend Jerry if you can picture that, ready to sue him for his broken sternum thank God they said he was out of town but by now Oscar knows when he’s being lied to because that’s all anybody . . .

  —No, no it’s true Christina, Mudpye’s setting up a new client base out in Aspen, a lot of money out there and the firm thinks . . .

  —My God.

  —What.

  —Nothing! Trout fishing in Norway, feeling up a new client in Aspen who in God’s name is minding the store?

  —Don’t quite follow you Christina, talking about Oscar’s appeal all I’ve heard is some young lawyer showed up at Foley Square and filed for admission to the Second Circuit bar pro hac vice must be out of state, went up to the seventeenth floor and filed the appeal, all strictly pro forma I didn’t even get his name. An accredited member of some out of state bar, it’s not our business where Oscar got him. Ask Oscar.

  —Harry he hasn’t a clue, you know what he’s . . .

  —Look Christina, some lawyer he got off a matchbook co
ver he can end up like that shark Lily got him for his car accident, lawyer has to know his client that’s one of the most basic regulations in the whole . . .

  —Your whole self regulating conspiracy my God, don’t start that again. He knew Mister Basie didn’t he? and look at the . . .

  —No, no look don’t start on that again, just ask him . . .

  —Harry please! I just told you he’s ready to have a seizure out there didn’t I? Every time he looks up he thinks that real estate woman’s peeking in the windows selling the place out from under us while the paint peels and the veranda caves in and he doesn’t know who sent her, the bank or Father and he’s afraid to ask either one of them. The high point of his day is reading something in the paper that means more trouble for Father, some boy who was drowned when he was being baptized and now this ridiculous Cyclone Seven mess starting all over again he’s got a lot on his plate, you can almost hear the appetite in Oscar’s voice when he says it, Harry? What is it.

  —Just not hungry.

  —I mean isn’t the, is the meat too rare? raising her eyes from the plate in front of him —are you, do you want a drink?

  —I’ll get it.

  —No I’ll do it, sit still.

  —Get the feeling they’re not behind me, Christina.

  —Who, the firm? your pal William Peyton third and his four hundred thieves? putting the bottle down sharply, —there’s his picture in the paper with you for all the world to see, I mean doesn’t that look like they’re backing you up? speaking for the firm on this monstrous case that you . . .

  —Not that case no, no it’s this, this disagreeable little business about that car accident, all pretty routine let the insurance people haggle over it but I just get the feeling, if things get sticky leaving the scene of an accident just get the feeling that they’re backing off, feeling Bill Peyton would just rather not hear about it, mention it to him and he comes up with a joke or some movie he’s seen he, had lunch with him yesterday and he . . .

  —Do you want ice in this? setting the glass in front of him, a mere interruption —because honestly Harry I think you’re exaggerating, the smallest thing flies all out of proportion and you start to imagine things I mean you’ve known Bill Peyton for a thousand years, you know he’s not . . .

  —Not imagining that glitter in his eye when he’d had two martinis at lunch yesterday Christina, a few Scotches and he’s fine, loosens him up even acts a little silly but that second gin martini you see that real streak of meanness, sounds like he’s kidding but he’s giving you just enough rope to throw you the other end when the moment comes that you . . .

  —Well my God I mean you knew that didn’t you? that he’d never have been made managing partner in a fine old white shoe blue ribbon outfit like Swyne & Dour without a good dose of that old school tie duplicity? that he thinks you think like he would, so he’ll think it first, that you might sue them for the pressure they’ve put on you that got you into this accident? Sending you to their psychiatrist to save your sanity? to protect you? or protect the firm against you with an expert witness using everything he’s wrung out of you to show that you’re unstable? picking up her own glass already half emptied —because I can’t stand seeing this happen to you that’s why I, what’s made me sound harsh and impatient and perfectly awful and I look at myself and see somebody I don’t like because I can’t stand what it’s doing to me either, I’m your wife aren’t I? with a hand on his arm that sent a tremor the length of it —I mean I love you Harry, I love your hands and your stubborn fighting yourself that drives me crazy when you won’t take the shortcut like the rest of them and I love your hands on me and what they do and the stiff stubborn hairy Ainu that’s like all the rest of you when I look around us at the pieces of my absurd pointless life before we met all strung out in front of us worried about Father, about the house and poor Oscar out there with his whole life in the lap of the gods and your smile, shaking your head it’s such a patient, sad smile looking for what’s right, what you said once, not what is just but what is right?

  He’d reached out to hold her wrist, putting down his glass to say —lap of Judge Bone is more like it Christina, sitting on the Second Circuit bench as long as anyone can remember, cut from the same cloth as old Judge Crease, he doesn’t suffer fools gladly I’ve seen him take a young woman prosecutor right off at the knees, got himself a name over the years for being a sort of misogynist so this wild card Oscar drew on the bench better have had her act together, do you want another? and he was up emptying his glass, taking them both back to the source and pouring it freely, —can’t tell he said, handing hers back to her, —you can’t tell. Little bit of the old puritan xenophobe too, get Mudpye up there with his secondhand red brick arrogance trying to deliver his oral argument and you can’t tell.

  —Well if you could have heard him out there Harry, I mean he’s certainly got his act together if that’s what you . . .

  —May think so, he may think so but I don’t think he’s ever handled a case before the Second Circuit Appeals Court. Probably march in there with a twenty page brief ready to read every word of his brilliant legal analysis to these three old black robes sitting up there looking down at him and I mean looking down, he’s standing at a lectern down in the well and they’re up in their highbacked thrones behind this polished mahogany sort of horseshoe courteous, relaxed, really forbidding, almost informal that’s what’s formidable about it. He starts off with something like in order to fully understand this case one of them cuts him right off. We’re familiar with the case, Counsel, is there anything you wish to add to what is contained in your brief? Your honour, if I may be allowed to outline the facts . . . I believe we understand the facts, Counsel. If it please the court, the public interest in the far reaching cultural implications of this case and Bone comes right in, I remind Counsel that we are here to serve the public interest. Your case is thus and so, goes right to the heart of it, sums up the argument in a couple of sentences and asks counsel to sit down, poor bastard’s got himself up for a real performance and the place, the whole atmosphere’s like a theatre but they’re not there for a matinee and his whole star turn goes out the window, a few more questions and down comes the curtain.

  —Well my God Harry don’t tell, don’t get Oscar’s hopes up, I mean this whole brittle shell he’s put together for who he thinks he is now but suddenly I look through that mangy beard and cigar smoke and see the face of the little boy down there by the pond that day with the little canoe he’d made, he’d spent days at it stripping the bark off a beautiful white birch that stood there and Father, Father looking at it without a word like some terrible open wound, looking at the canoe sunk in the mud and he had the poor tree cut down the next day without a word, gone without a trace he never mentioned it again but he never let Oscar forget it, just with a look, it was all too heartbreaking and now he’s done it again. Oscar’s done it again setting himself up with these fantasies of producing his play when he wins this appeal and if he loses, this whole desperate pose as the gentleman poet, the last civilized man I mean he’s just really so different from who he thinks he is and God only knows, when he loses . . .

  —Not when he loses, Christina. It’s when this who he thinks he is loses, what the whole thing’s all about isn’t it? He goes off on a frolic of his own writes a play and expects the world to roll out the carpet for . . .

  —A frolic! Where in God’s name did you get that, I mean have you ever seen anyone more deadly serious than . . .

  —Just a phrase, comes up sometimes in cases of imputed negligence, the servant gets injured or injures somebody else on the job when he’s not doing what he’s hired for, not performing any duty owing to the master, voluntarily undertakes some activity outside the scope of his employment like . . .

  —Harry?

  —Like an office worker puts out an eye shooting paperclips with a rubberband they say he’s on a frolic of his own, no intention of advancing his employer’s business his employer’s
not liable, there may be a case if the employer knew about this horseplay and hadn’t tried to . . .

  —Harry! My God I’m not talking about shooting paperclips, I mean can’t you say anything without writing a whole legal brief to go with it? and a swallow from her glass broke her off coughing —he, he spent a year, two years writing it and . . .

  —All right, look. Look all I meant was Oscar takes off and writes a longwinded play about his grandfather he wasn’t hired to do it, about somebody seeking justice nobody paid him to did they? And it gets him nowhere, does he keep at it? write another play? and another? No, no he splurges this one time and then lets it devour him year after year like this little birch canoe he made because it’s safer to blame the world out there for rejecting who he thought he was, for all the work he’s put in on a play that’s not really about justice in the first place, not about injustice it’s about resentment, it’s resentment right from the start like his little canoe sunk in the mud and it poisons everything, blaming those faceless ogres out there instead of looking inside at the ogres we don’t want to see, don’t dare see our own hand in it, who we really are, and if he wins? pausing again to reach for the bottle, —if who he thinks he is wins on this appeal? What you see in the headlines out of Washington every day isn’t it? caught redhanded destroying evidence, obstructing justice, committing perjury off on frolics of their own and when they get off on some technicality, everybody knows they’re guilty but there’s not enough there to prove it so they can proclaim they’ve been proved innocent, wrap themselves in the flag and they’re heroes because now they believe it themselves, because the law has vindicated who they think they are like saying where would Christianity be today if Jesus had been given ten to twenty with time off for good behaviour, and if he wins? If Oscar wins and this whole cockeyed version of who he thinks he is is vindicated because that’s what the law allows?