A Fairy Tale of New York

by J. P. Donleavy

CROOKS HAVE TO BE CAREFUL TOO.

  "Well it's four o'clock. And my dander's up. I mean what the hell do you know about property values Cornelius. Although we got the tennis club out there, you still lie awake in the bed at night, next to your loved one, wondering if the guy across the street's going to sell to an undesirable. And you wake up the next morning, grabbing the binoculars to see if some dark faces have moved in and your life's investment is shot to hell. Boy I'll tell you, a man's life is only worth what his next door neighbor might suddenly make it. I mean if you forget a minute about the god damn vandalism. With kids breaking the windows, stealing your car, or what's worse the battery. And your trying to start it for two hours. Hey come on, come out and see me, what do you say. You'll love my wife, Jean. I mean she's dying to meet you."

  AM I FIRED.

  "Now why do you have to bring up that painful subject Cornelius. I'm using my own judgement about that. Mr Mott always wants a full reservoir of brains to give a constant supply of clear thinking. Just like that reservoir you talked about when you first came in here.''

  I GUESS WHEN MOTT WANTS A DEEP THOUGHT HE TURNS ON THE TAP.

  "Right."

  I POLLUTE THE THOUGHT SUPPLY.

  "Right. No. Not right. No. You just get leaves and "debris in it. But come on, don't you know you're among a scrupulously selected collection of the best young minds in the country. And you know, you inherited those brains. That's why Cornelius I find it hard to take what you said about your father. I don't want my kid to be mystified by his father. I would die, Cornelius, rather than do anything to embarrass my boy. They could put me on the rack and torture me, I wouldn't care. I'm that kid's hero. I want him to look me straight in the eye. And not think his dad is making a cheap buck somewhere in a dirty deal. When I say something I want my little Billie to feel it's the god's honest truth being spoken. If I say it's pouring rain in Death Valley every day of the week, I want Billie to say, my dad said that, and my dad speaks the truth. Will you come out, and see me Cornelius, I mean I don't live in a palace but I just know it would make you see that this country isn't just a whole great lot of runaway fear and terror. That the rewards are there.''

  I'LL COME.

  "Gee that's swell. And you know, maybe I'd like to ask you just one question. I mean gee, what's it like to be standing over a bunch of dead bodies all the time, like you used to do. Did it teach you anything. I mean jesus christ that's what's going to happen to us."

  IT TAUGHT ME DEATH IS BETTER THAN DYING.

  Better than

  Hapless

  Better than

  Glee

  The cat's

  Meow

  In this midnight

  Sea

  25

  Fanny Sourpuss in the middle of the night. Boiling over in bed as I came in. Opening one eye and then the other. Squinting in the light. Let myself in with the key she gave me. The night duty doorman kept me half an hour showing me the latest judo tricks he learned at class and said let's see you try and throw me now Mr Peabody.

  I got him on the floor in the grapevine. Nearly woke the building up with his Pakistani screams. We both stood up to bow to two residents returning from a ball. They were tipsy. Just as I finally got, standing at five bars in Greenwich village. Having two beers in each. Heard a lot of jackasses that Doctor Pedro spoke about. Hopelessly remote celebrities. Then took a walk all the way uptown on Fifth to cut over to the delicatessen. From which I nearly never got delivered. As I step through this brown hot darkness towards the voice of Fanny.

  "It's you. What time is it."

  "Two."

  "Where you been."

  "Standing at a bar."

  "Are you still muttering like that. They must have thought you were nuts. Throw me my cigarettes. You weren't trying to screw any cunts."

  "No."

  "Just had a big dream you were. And some god damn pussy was putting her leg over your prick and it was about a foot wide. She could have raced it at Hialeah. Well at least you came back. God it's hot. Son of a bitch Kelly the doorman was screwing around with the air conditioning this afternoon. Said it was an immorality. That if god wanted us hot we should be hot. Then that stupid Arab or something, who keeps making eyes at me, busted the whole thing for good. And everybody in the building is telling me to get it fixed as if it's all my fault. Come to bed. You hungry."

  "No."

  "Hey tell me something. Did you love your wife. I sometimes think you're such a cold hearted fish. And you just threw her in the grave. That you don't have feelings for anything."

  "I've got feelings."

  "Come to bed."

  Lie stony and stiff next to Fanny Sourpuss. Wait till she goes to sleep so that I can ponder more. Because tonight I went to the Sixth Avenue Delicatessen. For a taste of Doctor Pedro's happiness. After my walk. Tall blond lady came in and sat across from me. In a loose green dress with greener buttons down the front. She put ketchup on her french fries. And held her pinky way out when digging with her fork. Smiled when I pushed the sugar her way for her coffee. She said it's a hot night. I said yes. And saw her putting her hands below the table edge where she pulled back and forth on a wedding ring. She bit her lip before she spoke.

  "Do you come here often.''

  ''Well my doctor told me to come.''

  "Your doctor."

  "Yes he said it was a good place to come and look at the people."

  "Well it sure is a place you can see people, but what kind of people."

  Her hair swept up on top of her head and her cheeks a little puffy and her lower lip hung down. Her teeth looked newer than the rest of her. Said she was single and lived just a few buildings away. She lifted one eyebrow extremely high above the other when she asked a question.

  "What do you do if you don't mind me enquiring.''

  Everytime she leans forward. See the dark moist line of cleavage between her two big breasts. Borrow, if he's not using it this late at night, Mr Quell's title for a while.

  "I'm department head of publicity for an industrial corporation."

  "Is that right."

  "Well yes it is. I mean I'm considering other proposals at the moment. At my age it's all right to be department head but I wouldn't want that to get chronic.''

  "Ha ha, no, you wouldn't want that. You could be a magazine model or an actor or something like that.''

  "Well I am considering seriously other proposals and job opportunities."

  ''You got a kind of funny way of speaking.''

  "It's my jaw, hurt playing polo.''

  ''Gee do you play polo that game on horses.''

  "Down in Virginia. On the weekends.''

  "That's some game. Expensive.''

  "O it costs a little. Like the best things in life. What do you do."

  "I'm I guess a kind of person you might think got caught in a rut. If you wanted to be really funny you could call it a career. I'm a legal secretary. I always lived with my mother till she died last year. I just take what comes. Is that cheese cake good.''

  "Yes delicious."

  "Well I guess I'll have some. You sound a little like you were English or something.''

  "Some of us down in Virginia, round where the better estates are, speak like this.''

  Sipping a last cup of coffee. I had another. And she had another. And told me about her mother, a night nurse with a lot of rich families along Park Avenue. And said as her face got a little flushed. You want to come up and see some pictures of her, my grandfather was a horse trainer, before we got poor. And I've got lots of pictures.

  Up in the elevator. She kept bending her door key between her thumbs. Walked down a narrow public green corridor. Through her brown apartment door, and past a tiny kitchen. Her little living room. Glass cocktail table. A white cat in the corner taking a shit in kitty litter. Stack of books. She said please sit down, Mr Peabody or do you mind if I call you Jason. I belong to a book club, Jason. That's all I really do. Is read. Can I get you something to drink.

/>   Sound of a container of milk plopping twice to the floor in the kitchen. Christian sitting with a glass of milk. Looking across at this woman standing at a bookcase lined with books of knowledge. Down in the delicatessen got a hard on under the table watching her take bites out of her cheese cake. Doctor Pedro must have meant for me to chase my opportunity. Given by this by no means beautiful creature. I said no thanks to viewing her mother's pictures. When suddenly she said please, would you do me a big favour. And take me home. Just so that I have some company. Just to my door. Because only three days ago a girl was murdered in the next building. And you look honest. And this late and hot at night I don't like going back to my apartment alone.

  "Thank you madam. I am very grateful you don't think I'm a sexual maniac."

  "Ha ha, gee you can be funny."

  And then she got her pictures. Of her mother. As a little girl on the stone porch of an ivied entrance. And an older one, smiling in white by a straw hatted patient in a wheel chair. Said Kennebunkport, Maine. How does one stand up with all these photographs laid out on your lap. Said her name was Marigold, of the Aster family, of flowers. Two little pottery lamps glowing near the window. Four rectal lonely looking oil paintings on the walls. We sat there till right near midnight and cats meowing and screaming down in the alleys and long after I knew I would get my ass broken by Fanny. Who would be shouting where the hell were you.

  "I think I better be going."

  ''O no, please, don't go.''

  "I must, my mother is waiting for me.'

  "I thought you said you were from Virginia.''

  "Well my mother is up here for a week's shopping.f'

  "Please stay. Jason, you're the first person I've had here visiting me in about three months. It's kind of a wonderful thing for me. I used to belong to a bowling club. Till it ended up being all women. Do you bowl.''

  "No, not yet. But my bloody mother might sock me one with a bowling ball."

  "Ha ha, but at your age, being so attached to your mother like this. My mother I think ruined my life.''

  "Well christ sometimes I want to break away, but she's the sweetest dearest most wonderful woman I 've ever known.''

  "Well I guess she didn't have to struggle. Guess you've been sheltered all your life. I'd like to meet your mother sometime."

  "Well I better now be going.''

  Marigold leaning over close to Christian, pushing him backwards on the couch, her mouth opening. Darting her tongue in between my tightening lips. Feel her heart pounding and she's landing kisses all over my face. When I hardly know the woman. Sweat pouring off her. Breasts sumptuously large and smothering. As one struggles to get the unusually strong arms from around one. Without giving offense to this entwining vine. As she squeezes one belch after another of pastrami out of me.

  "Please don't go. I've got a few things going for me, I really have. I don't know how it will make any difference but I hold a speed typing championship. The scroll's right there up on the wall. Don't laugh at me. I'm desperate. And I'm so lonely. And I don't want you to go. Please. I 'll give you fifty dollars.''

  "I'm sorry."

  ''Please, one hundred.''

  "Madam, you mustn't say these things.''

  "Isn't it enough, you want more, Jason. I'll give you some more. Anything you want. I can give you a good time. I'm good at screwing. I really am. And if you get up and go I'll die. I'll throw myself out the window.''

  "Don't do that."

  "I will. Jason, I will."

  "I could be the murderer killed the girl."

  "Jesus I don't care. Just don't leave me. I'd rather to anyway get killed if you 're going.''

  "Can't we talk about this sensibly. The streets full of men looking for women.''

  "But I want you. I don't want another one of them hairy old grease balls. Why can't I have something handsome for a change. You've got such beautiful hands. I watched them while you were eating. And you're young. I'll undress you. I'll do it all."

  "I've got to go."

  "I 've got more money.''

  "Madam I'd never dream of taking your money, unless, ha ha, it was really a lot."

  "Marigold's my name. And I 'm not kidding.''

  "Look I have a doctor, he says there's a cure, just scrub your floor and you 'll be all right.''

  "I want a fuck. I can't stand the loneliness. It's been a whole .year. Since last summer in Paris. Please. Please. I'm telling you. He was just a porter on the train. I had him for three nights. He was good looking even though he stunk of garlic and stole all my luggage and money and everything. But I'd give it to him all again. Can't you understand how desperate a girl can get. What's wrong, here, let me show you. I'm not that bad. My tits are good. I 'll undress. I 'll show you.''

  ''Please don't, no please.''

  "Yes yes, then you 'll see.''

  "Madam I 'm going to leave no matter what you do.''

  "It'll change your mind, I know it will. Now, There. Here, look. Look at them.''

  ''Yes I am. They 're very fine.''

  "Feel one, go ahead, they're firm. I never had any children and they're really firm. Give me your hand. Now doesn't that feel firm."

  "Yes. It's very fine and firm and madam I'm a compassionate person. But somehow I think we're getting into an awful misunderstanding here.''

  ''Don't I even give you an erection, don't you have one."

  ''Well I 'm so concerned at this moment that I don't know."

  "I'll feel for you."

  "No please, it's ok."

  "Just let me show you my thighs then. I got really good thighs. No fat or anything. All solid.''

  "I wish you wouldn't madam, I can see that you're wonderfully built."

  "You don't know how damned miserable it can be. All right."

  "Madam please, don't cry, everything's going to be all right.

  My mother gave me this problem.''

  "O I don't care, don't say anything. I don't want a whole bunch of excuses. I can really make love. And I don't know maybe you're just a pervert.''

  "Yes, I am a little bit of one. But it's really that I don't want my head broken when I go home.''

  "You're a fairy."

  "Well not completely.''

  "I've made a god damn fool of myself. You knew damn well what I was after when I asked you to come up here.''

  "I did not. I accompanied you because you asked me. As any southern gentleman would do, when asked by a lady for protection. I have codes. I would never take money.''

  "Don't be so high hat about money. You're just a nobody exactly like me. Department head, my ass. I don't care if someone kills me. Just so long as I can kiss him while he does it. That's just the way I feel. When that murderer comes, black, hairy or greasy. I'll be kissing him while he's killing me. Because he'll be doing me a god damn favour. So get out you, get out. And cut out calling me that crazy old madam stuff. And leave me alone."

  Marigold seated on her pea green couch. Little white lace covers on the arms. A large fold of her belly bulging over the waist band of her tight stretched panty. Clumps of her hair studded with bobby pins hanging over her neck. Tears down her face. Clutching her hands under her breasts. Two lamps ridged with soot stain. Sad altar of light either side of the window at the end of this tiny room. Air conditioner humming. Avoid leaving a pickle and coleslaw fart to foul up her life further. Least I can do. While the naked shoulders of this citizen of this city tremble. With her two unhandled sacks of flesh hanging forward over her wrists. Strange bereft beauty. Now the tears running down to her nipples. Pause and drop off. Little suicides. She waits for the sacred sacrifice of murder. Makes the city live. Takes the conceit of life away. Dogs lick up your blood. Go back and touch and comfort her. Say, please don't worry. In July in a window in the Bronx they write every year Merry Christmas. Bewilder the elevated train travellers a little more. And if you're travelling that way, it says Dead End above the hospital ambulance entrance at Bellevue. Be a gentleman your whole life. To all women
. When prick hungry, feed them. When out of style, dress them. When they say why don't you give me a surprise. Sock her cold for a change. Wake her up on the lawn where she can see her picket fence. While you clip the grass around her pedestal. Getting it ready for when she's a statue. Worshipped as she waits no longer in tears.

  After

  Her murderer

  Has

  Come

  26

  September sun tanners in the park. Gang of marauding kids swinging chains and carrying pipes stuffed with gun powder and nails. They like to pop them off at the older pedestrians. And Fanny said I want you to stop work. You go out each day and how the hell do I know where you are if I can't call you at that stupid Think Boom.

  Kept handing around my notes at the office. Nice little answers to some big questions. Especially when Mr Quell asked how long is this silent business of yours going to go on.

  DOC SAYS COULD EASILY BE CURED IN SIX MONTHS.

  Quell said meantime I could learn to make coffee for the rest of the Think Boom. And serve his cup extra hot. Which I did sweetened with a chocolate purgative. Guaranteed to cause copious evacuation from the most concrete of bowels.

  Fanny when we woke in the morning after my cheese cake and milk evening with Marigold, socked me because she said I had lipstick under my eye. I explained it was the Pakistani elevator operator who wore the color as part of his religion. Got it on me when I stretched him out in agony in the grapevine. Some people will accept nothing but a lie when you're struggling to tell the gospel truth.

  And one morning the police came. To say that the Pakistani gentleman had his nose broken and his jaw in four places. Willie came in drunk at dawn and beat the hell out of him. Wrecked the lobby and smashed the front door. Not a sound reached us up in bed. Except the other residents shouting they were getting a committee together to throw her out. And my thoughts thumping in my brain. To get out. Get out.

  Took Fanny one night for dinner. To a fancy place with a canopy on the street. Followed now by her detective in another car. She wore a black sequined dress. And turned every head in the dining room. Had rich red wine and porterhouse under the ancient looking ceiling put up last month. The waiter splattered mayonnaise on me. And did other demeaning things. I was amazed how calm I was. Till Fanny said to him, why don't you just fuck off sonny boy and get me the headwaiter. And for the rest of the night he stood staring, wiping forks in a corner. When I know the bastard wanted to go beg the chef to let him spit in our custard. And wipe his feet in our steak.