Frolic of His Own

by William Gaddis

  —Anyway I’m just real glad it’s over Oscar, you’re getting all sweaty and . . .

  —But it’s not! It should be but it’s not, if they’d broken Lee’s flank there the whole war would be over but the worst is now, right now you’ve seen it look at them! Parading down the slope bayonets flashing in the sun straight for D H Hill’s regiments hidden in the sunken road I thought you’d seen it, the Bloody Lane you said you’d seen it!

  —That’s where I closed my eyes.

  —All right go ahead, go ahead I’ll tell you what’s happening any minute, any minute there! a crash of fire filled the sunken road end to end —the whole Union first rank blown to pieces God, look at them! He had hold of a cushion pounding it, pounding it —McClellan’s long range guns smashing the Rebel artillery look, the gunner’s legs blown to aphh! the horses, shells tearing the artillery horses to pieces God it’s awful, smoke down here in the sunken road you can’t even see what they, they’ve stopped them! We’ve stopped their advance, the whole no, don’t look, don’t look piles of arms and legs men laid out on the straw they’ve made this barn a hospital surgeons covered with blood and arms and legs stacked up like my glass, where’s my glass! gurgling, coughing, he filled it again crushing the cushion in his lap —finally! Sumner’s Third Division finally getting here to relieve French God it goes on, it goes on, D H Hill breaking through the gap there it goes, there it goes the whole Confederate line collapsing why can’t he send in his reserves and end the whole thing! McClellan’s got ten thousand men up there send them in! send them in! he pounded the cushion —he won’t, Lee’s lines completely shredded McClellan could break right through but he still thinks he’s outnumbered, seventy thousand men to Lee’s forty thousand it’s hardly noon he could end the war right here, Porter’s whole V Corps sitting up on a hill playing cards all day and they won’t send them in! he sank back getting breath, wiping a hand across his brow —all down hill from now on, all down hill, here comes Burnside two or three places he could ford the creek but he wants that little bridge the idiot. You idiot! he cried out suddenly and sank back again muttering imprecations as two regiments rushed the bridge under heavy fire, eyes glazing over as the bridge was engulfed in a tumult of men and horses, carts and wagons trying to cross it at once, heavy firing on the road toward Sharpsburg —he could still do it, twelve thousand men what’s the matter with him! one unsteady hand holding the empty glass, the other searching the cushions as his breathing subsided, shoulders fallen in defeat.

  —It’s empty Oscar, don’t . . .

  —Well get, get another then! he gasped, —never fired a shot, a third of his army never fired a shot all gone to pieces, Lee withdrawing could have cut him off at the Potomac never fired a shot. Harry? his eyes dimming, —where’s Harry.

  —He’s right there Oscar, I think he went to sleep, are you okay?

  —Never fired a shot he mumbled, as the blood splashed leaves of corn and corpses, mouths open in full cry and shattered limbs and guns catching the last sunlight passed before them and twilight sparkled in pools of blood in the sunken road, caught the last glimmer of frenzy in the eyes of the horses turned toward the dying heavens in the stillness enveloping the dark as the descending darkness enshrouded the stillness vouched in a low sound of moaning, pierced by a scream as a fire, now another, and another, pierced the dark bursting the bloated bellies of the horses and the moaning rose with the careful tread of burial details in the cornfield, the East Wood, West Wood, Miller’s farm and Roulette’s and Piper’s and the Dunker church and, slow and cautious as their tread, these impassable last fierce embraces in the sunken road —Harry? you okay? in a kind of panic—what’s this? What’s this! as a figure materialized with a terrible slowness, the pale scar livid on the pale cheek brooding down upon two bloodied faces twinned in this final agony more real than they’d been in life whining, whimpering, limping to this, eyes rolling from the mineshafts now wide and emptied —look! as the spectre faded, —look . . .

  —It’s spooky.

  —Lily?

  —Oh! You scared me, I thought you’re upstairs asleep.

  —Asleep? with this racket? and she snapped off the sound silencing a languorous blonde caressing the length of a shiny car fender as though it were a stalwart thigh. —Oscar? What’s he mumbling about.

  —He just fought the whole war.

  —And are these the dead soldiers? she came picking up the empty bottles, —Harry? coming down on the arm of his chair, stroking his forehead —do you want to come up now? But still none of them moved as the sun rose silently flooding the pitted columns where a curtain stirred by a gentle breeze through a broken pane for a glimpse of bare tables, empty chairs as shadows moved among them, a spiffy four-in-hand coming up the overgrown drive beneath the weeping mosses and a lone figure carrying a carpetbag mounting the steps to pound on the door under their vacant stares through the broken pane flashes of red hair disheveled over features frozen in translucent beauty and an open bodice sheltered behind the scarred chalkwhite countenance confronting the florid entrance of the visitor finally rousing her to —what on earth is going on! with the hazy approach of a black figure up the wide lawn gradually becoming distinct as she restored the sound at the instant of a gunshot from somewhere and from nowhere the gentle swells of a symphonic mutilation of what might have been Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, as the end credits crept their way onto the emptied screen. —Oscar?

  —What happened! He lurched upright gaping at the credit crawl, special effects, technical advisors, costumes, makeup, wranglers . . .

  —God only knows, will you help me with him Lily?

  —Harry look! There she is, the hairdresser there she is!

  —What? what?

  —No grab his arm, just help me get him down the hall.

  —Never fired a shot.

  —His shirt’s really soaking, we can cover him up in the library okay?

  —Stabbed him in the back with a wet sock.

  —And get a wet cloth to wipe his face, I mean my God he’s really had a very long day.

  Far out across the silence of the pond some number, five or six, of swans composed a copse of white so still they might be frozen in the ice there in a morning sun so pale it seemed the cold’s mere manifest serving to make it visible when here, along the nearer shore, came a string of wild duck their brilliant green of head and neck a luminescence, given the stingy sun, that must be all their own in orangelegged parade order past dowdy mates blown like withered clumps of vegetation marching puffed up against the cold in muted dignity abruptly desecrated, as she turned from the window, shorn and profaned on the silent screen where a black and tattered cartoon duck hurled a stick marked dynamite into the cartoon hunter’s blind. —Lily? didn’t I turn this off before I went up last night? and she did so, —oh good, you’ve made tea. I thought Harry was down here.

  —He’s in the kitchen making coffee.

  —Well I’ve got to thank you for cleaning up in there, I dreaded facing it. And for straightening up in here, my God what a night.

  —I thought you did.

  —But I’ve just come down. You haven’t waked Oscar have you?

  —He’s not in there.

  —In the library? and he’s not in your, well where in God’s name is he, no just put the tray there by the window. He certainly can’t have gone for a walk he’d catch pneumonia, I mean after last night he must feel like the wrath of God you don’t think he, oh Harry. Have you seen him?

  —Who.

  —Who! Who do you think, the man in the moon?

  —You mean Oscar? He sat down carefully balancing his cup, —haven’t seen him, haven’t seen a soul.

  —You’ve been up for simply hours haven’t you? It’s almost noon, sitting here watching the Saturday morning cartoon shows?

  —Matter of fact I . . .

  —But you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, that was sweet.

  —Haven’t touched a thing Christina, matter of fact I . . .
r />   —My God! tea splashing all over the tray —it’s gone! Look, his car is gone, look! as though at something to see rather than not to see.

  —Maybe he went to, just went out to get the paper or something?

  —Paper’s right here I just finished it, he must have brought it in.

  —Well of course he didn’t go out to get the paper or something! He’s not even, didn’t you hear anything? didn’t you hear him?

  —I keep the pillow over my head when that crazy woodpecker starts and then that spooky fish gets . . .

  —Stop it both of you, I mean my God he could have gone anywhere, the shape he was in last night he was ready to, he could be a hundred miles away he could be anywhere.

  —Just that battle scene got him going Christina, bottle or two of wine I wouldn’t worry about his . . .

  —The way he was hitting everything I even have this bruise on my knee, waving his arms around it was like Al watching the Redskins with his sixpack yelling send him in! send him in! waving his arms and . . .

  —Lily for God’s sake can you be still! Wouldn’t worry about him it’s freezing out there, I mean he could be in jail somewhere he could be in the hospital with an accident couldn’t he? You know all about that don’t you Harry? Does he know how to drive that thing? has he ever driven ours?

  —Look Christina, call the police you’ll have to sign a complaint and if they pick him up they’ll arrest him, start calling hospitals all you’ll get will be the usual tanked up . . .

  —Well what are we supposed to do, sit here? just sit here till some hospital in Georgia calls us?

  —Or the police in Hoboken or he walks in the door, sit here and have some more coffee look, it was still warm when I came down he can’t be far, don’t hear anything before I have to leave we can worry about it then.

  —Where are you going.

  —Get some more coffee.

  —I mean when you have to leave! Why do you have to leave?

  —Just going to tell you. I talked to Bill Peyton earlier he wants to sit down and go over a few things before he . . .

  —Bill Peyton Bill Peyton! It’s Saturday Harry it’s Saturday, why do you have to see Bill Peyton on Saturday!

  —Leaving town tomorrow, something’s come up in Aspen he’s got to straighten out and I think he wants to talk about this senior partnership before he goes.

  —Going to Aspen when Oscar may be in a ditch somewhere bleeding to death? If they want to make you a senior partner he can send you your diploma and then go skiing in Aspen and straighten out a few topless waitresses all he wants to can’t he?

  —Not that simple Christina look, sit down try to be patient, anybody bleeding to death I can cancel in an instant. Here’s the problem, whole scene right now’s like sailing through the strait of Messina between Scylla and Charybdis. You make partner, make senior partner with a fine old reputable white shoe firm used to mean you were set for life, now you’ve got the sea monster’s cave on one side and a whirlpool on the other, liability as a partner you’re on board risking being devoured by these monstrous suits and government regulators or sucked under and drowned in the unemployment pool.

  —Well my God Harry, I mean they can’t fire you, you said once . . .

  —Talking about being sucked under when the whole ship goes down Christina, last few years eight or ten top firms have gone down and a dozen more ready to go right now, small firms wiped out all over the place, expartners out on the street who shed their blood for the firm in worries and legal battles brought on by some venerable old senior partner billing four hundred fifty an hour for making bad decisions they had nothing to do with while he puts in for twenty five hundred hours over the year, takes home about a third of the million that he brings in to the firm to pay out overhead and bonuses on the rest of the three hundred million pouring in from all their other accounts and then the senior partners sit down under the Christmas tree and share the profits.

  —Well what makes you think Swyne and, where are you going.

  —Told you, make some more coffee.

  —Lily can make some more coffee and Lily? some more tea, and if you’ll clean up that tray? I mean what makes you think they can blame you if the old tub sinks, you’re not running General Motors are you?

  —Don’t understand Christina look, that’s the point. You’re not protected by limited liability like you are with a corporation, state regulations on these partnership forms you’re wide open, the firm’s liable means you’re liable, insurance protection’s like throwing your drowning sailor a lifesaver, a firm with two hundred lawyers at five or six thousand a head there’s over a million in premiums right there. All those massive firings a while ago firms like mine were hiring right out of law school fattening up on those billion dollar mergers and takeovers, wild real estate deals, fancy office space and computer networks for these multinational accounts whole thing dries up overnight and the government regulators step in catch some monstrous financial institution cooking their books and we’re part of the act because we’d advised them so down go earnings and blue ribbon reputations paying out fines and settlements on these suits by the Justice Department and a few thousand bitter investors first thing you know you’re . . .

  —Harry?

  —You’re paying these million, five million dollar claims from your own pocket, tens of millions in coverage but you’ve kept raising your deductibles to meet your premiums up twenty percent last year probably another twenty or thirty this one and zero for your legal costs fighting these malpractice suits growing like weeds wherever you . . .

  —Harry! I mean why are you telling me all this about millions in deductibles and God knows else I can’t even . . .

  —Just told you Christina! Firm’s liable means the partners are liable, big firm gets sued means you’re not just accountable for your own work you’re stuck for the work of other partners you’ve probably never even met.

  —Well that’s the most ridic, I mean you never told me all this I don’t even . . .

  —Didn’t want to drag you through it, you don’t even want to hear it all now do you? What I’m trying to tell you, risking everything you’ve got, home, pension rights, bonus profit shares everything you own, why our friend Sam there owns nothing but the clothes on his back, town house, cars, sailboat, summer place they’re building right over here in Southampton put it all in his wife’s name.

  —Charming Harry, perfectly charming.

  —What do you mean charming, what else could he . . .

  —I mean our friend Sam Harry! I mean these malpractice suits springing up like weeds I mean you standing right there talking Oscar out of bringing a malpractice suit worried about Sam, about our friend Sam and this whole revolting self regulating conspiracy is that when he did it?

  —Did what, I don’t . . .

  —Put everything in his wife’s name so he wouldn’t have to give Oscar anything but the shirt off his back and a box of dead fish how can you tell me this!

  —Not talking about Sam I’m talking about us, things go sour we could be in the same . . .

  —We? you’re putting everything in my name is that how all this started?

  —Started with me sitting down with Bill Peyton didn’t it? Started with, tell you what it started with it started when I heard Mudpye had turned down partner, broke his neck to make partner they just handed it to him and he turned it down, had second thoughts and he turned it down. Breaking mine for senior partner I’m having a few second thoughts too, tell Bill Peyton I want to see the firm’s balance sheets, bank borrowings, pension liabilities, insurance, problem clients, just take your friend Trish probably in for a few hundred thousand by now hasn’t put up a dime what’s she going to do, wait till they sue her?

  —They may just wait until she sues them.

  —Not funny Christina now look, I brought her in there and . . .

  —My God I know it’s not funny! I mean you look Harry, you brought her in there and all your fine venerable old senior
partners could see was dollar signs, they knew she’s a problem client Bill Peyton knew it everybody knows it, she’d sue the Queen of England if it occurred to her and you’re going to talk to Bill Peyton about bank loans and balance sheets and these millions in deductibles on this insurance they’ve got on you? and you think you can trust . . .

  —Not on me Christina no, on the firm, I’ve got half a million with them but that’s just life insurance, these tens of millions I’m talking about are the firm, liability for the . . .

  —For the firm while the firm takes your last drop of blood chewing pills, pouring drinks, car accidents my God do we have to go over all this again? Risking everything you own when Bill Peyton pulls a fast one and you think you can trust him talking about bank loans and balance sheets and God knows what you think you can trust any of them? All of it, the whole thing the whole atmosphere’s mistrust, every breath you take no put it down here Lily, give him his coffee he needs it, nothing but mistrust, mistrust, mistrust, did you bring sugar?

  —What it’s all about Christina, if everyplace you looked here wasn’t ridden with mistrust you wouldn’t have one lawyer for every five hundred people mostly can’t afford one anyway, whole country conceived in competition rivalry bugger thy neighbor, the whole society’s based on an adversary culture what America’s all about, you want to get into dialectical materialism supposed to be Marxist theory but we’re the . . .

  —I don’t want to get into dialectical anything Harry, I mean my God we know that people will do anything and, listen. Listen! as those glass doors clattered closed —well thank God, Lily help him will you, give him your chair Harry give him your coffee he’s pale as a sheet, my God without a coat look at him I mean he’s probably caught pneumonia, can you tell me? what would drive any sane person out of the house at dawn in this weather, can you tell me?