Collected Fictions (14 page)

But listen, cutie creature, a father does not know a son? I need all of a sudden a mind reader for them to tell me what is in my sonny boy's thoughts? So drag me out into the streets because I as your father happen to know the thinking of my own child. Tell them to come put your father on bread and water on death row because he happens to be an expert on the question of his sonny boy's brain. Meanwhile, you still cannot change the rule which says it takes a father to know a son. Jerome, darling, they could come cut off both my arms. They could come chop me up in little pieces. But I as your father am here to tell you, cutie guy, a father knows a son!

Guess what, darling.

Are you listening to me, Jerome?

Because to the fathers of this world, a son is what is eating your heart out! But don't think I don't know I should learn to keep my mouth shut. Believe me, boychik, they should come cut your father's throat from ear to ear until the man learns to bite his tongue. So tell your father if he could not quote you the exact phraseology of his sonny boy's thinking word for bitter word. Boychik, tell the truth, would it be verbatim or would it be verbatim? Listen, cutie guy, don't tell me the answer because I know the answer. And you know why, Jerome? Because a father knows a son, Jerome! And you know what else, darling? Let your father tell you what else, darling. The more brilliant the brain of the child, the more you cannot please this child—this is what your father knows!

Oh, but you really got a lot to complain about, Jerome—a father which gave you such a gorgeous name for yourself and then had the gall to write it down on an envelope instead of write on something which it would make him heartsick to even whisper in a closet to himself. Believe me, your father never saw a sonny boy with more to complain about. But don't kid yourself, darling, it's no picnic for me neither, this subject, but so long as it just so happens to be the topic at the moment on the table at the moment, pardon me if your father goes ahead and mentions a few comparisons. Like take, for instance, a certain Mrs. Roth who lives in the building. So tell me, darling, does this particular Mrs. Roth have a relative who is a Philip or is a P.? Or look instead at the Mailer people who got such a nice oceanview on 12. Ask yourself, Jerome, does this family have a second cousin named N. or a second cousin named Norman? The Malamuds on 6, a one-bedroom facing front? So are we talking in this case about a Bernard, are you telling me, or a B.?

Please God, darling, you stopped and took a good look at these questions I just asked you, and answered each and every one of them from the bottom of your heart of hearts. But now we come to your father, Jerome. Do you appreciate what I am saying to you, Jerome, that now we come to your own flesh and blood? Who happens also to be a resident in this building! Who happens also to be a person who has to live with these people! Who happens also to be a human being who has to answer to these animals! And what, pray tell, is the question?

Jerome, the question is, "J.D., Mr. Ess—what, please be so kind as to elucidate, is a J.D.?"

Cutie guy, pay attention—down here in 305 a Saul they heard of, a Philip they heard of, a Norman they heard of, plus ditto, a Bernard! But since when did somebody anywhere in 305 ever hear of a J.D., pray tell? Stop to think, boychik, and tell me when they did. Because in this building this is the question which I your father have to answer to these animals morning, noon, and night! And you know for how many years now? Day in and day out, darling, are you or are you not counting for how many years?

THIS IS WHY
I say to you, Jerome, thank God for Gert Pinkowitz. This is why I your father have to say to you thank God for the heartache this woman has got for herself with her own child. Because for your father it is a lesson to see that there are those in the world that got worse than even your father got—even if I wouldn't wish it on my own worst enemy. Because twenty-four hours, Jerome, the woman is in the building only twenty-four hours, and already the gang of them—animals, animals—found better to talk about than morning, noon, and night what is it, what is it, the name of J.D.? But believe me, Jerome, I your father do not wish the woman ill. For Gert Pinkowitz, your father has got nothing in his heart but hearts and flowers. It's just that as a human being I couldn't take it no more—J.D. this and J.D. that, the whole building could not leave your father for one instant in an instant's peace not once! And besides, darling, svelte as Gert Pinkowitz is, the woman, let me tell you, the woman is made of iron.

Of iron, boychik, of iron!

Listen, Jerome, forget Gert Pinkowitz for all of two seconds. Because your father now requires of you, please God, your utmost attention. Cutie fellow, can you give your father please your very utmost? Because it is time for I your father to go down on my hands and knees to you again for me to beg you for you to please reconsider. So are you listening as regards to the subject, Jerome, concerning the question again of reconsideration again?

Jerome, listen to me, where does your father live, which building? Since years and years ago when your father first picked up and moved down here, has he ever for one instant ever resided in a different residential? All right, so tell me, sweetheart, so what would you call this place—a residential like any other residential?

Jerome, don't make me have to remind you.

Sweetheart, we are talking the Seavue Spa Oceanfront Garden Arms and Apartments! So do you need reminding which is your father's residential? Because for how many years now have I been telling you, Jerome? But do you ever listen? Other children listen, Jerome. The Bellow kid, their Saul,
he
listens.
Philip
listens,
Norman
listens—and for your information, so does
Bernard!
Believe me, Jerome, everybody in here, they got a kid which they can count on to listen—the Krantzes do and so do the Sheldons and the Friedmans and the Elkins and the Wallaces and the Segals and the Wests and the Wallants and the Nemerovs and the Halberstams! And notice that I your father am not even mentioning the Robbins family and their Harold and the Potoks and their Chaim! You think the Wouks don't have a Herman which listens?

The Uris people, their Leon
listens
.

You heard of the Brodkeys, the Adlers? So tell me, the one's got a boy and the other's got a girl which don't listen?

The Kordas got a Michael, and
he
listens!

The Apples with their Max, the Michaels people with their Leonard, the Stones with their Irving—every last one of these children, Jerome, is a child which listens!

And did I even get to the Markfields and the Richlers and the Liebowitzes? Ozick, you think this is a girl which does not listen? So answer me—is the child a Cynthia or is she a C.? The Charyns, you heard of the Charyns? So them too, them too, they also got a child which listens—and, pay attention, Jerome, the boy, his name is
Jerome
and not no J. into the bargain!

Sweetheart, did I even begin to scratch the surface yet as to who's who among the who's who down here in the Seavue Spa Oceanfront Garden Arms and Apartments? But answer me, Jerrychik, is there one single solitary one of these animals which don't have like your father a relative in the literature industry? And, darling, exclusive of the exception of your father and of Mrs. Pinkowitz, tell me, pussycat, if this relative in the family is not a kid which doesn't take to heart what you say to him and
listen!
Because in the whole building, they every last one of them got what to listen to them—all except your father and Gert Pinkowitz, all except her with her Thomas and me with my J.D., the two big geniuses which would not for one minute, even if you got down on bended knee to them, listen! And look at who your father didn't even discuss yet—not to mention the Millers and the Simons and the Ephrons and the Kosinskis! Do the Paleys got a Grace? Do the Hellers got a Joseph? So tell me, Jerome, the Sontags, they don't got a Susan? So pay attention, are these or aren't these children which listen?—the Olsens with their Tillie, the Blooms with their Harold, the Golds with their Herbert, and the Wieseltier family, didn't I remark to you a wonderful, sweet-natured boy that they got themselves, a lovely Leon? But what else do all of these individuals have which your own personal father don't! Because I will answer you in words of one syllable, Jerome. Because the answer is a child which listens!

JEROME, DARLING,
your father is hoarse from sitting here screaming. Even though your father is writing and not talking, Jerome, I promise you, your father feels like he is getting a virus in his throat from sitting here and against his better judgment talking turkey to you. So you will call the Justice Department, I'm sorry, your father, in a manner of speaking, dares to shout. But, pussycat, darling creature, to make himself heard with you, who could go ahead and talk like a civilized individual in a civilized voice? Darling, sonny darling, lean close, open your ears up wide, your father couldn't speak no more in anything above a whisper, this is how much the man is suffering from the damage he had to do on your behalf to his larnyx.

Okay, so tell me, so who is in the penthouse here when it used to be your father who was up there in it? And you know the answer why? Because they got a child which listens! And you know what, Jerome? The boy's name is not as a professional person no S. Bellow neither! Oh, but far be it for me your father to pass comment. After all, your father is only your father, Jerome. He is only the person which has to live here with these animals and has to answer to them. Your father is only the person which has to face these big shots day in and day out because in his particular area code you don't get away with saying to the whole wide world, "Do me a favor and go take a hike." Jerrychik, sweetie boy, is it asking too much of you for you to look into your heart of hearts and try to see what is going on down here from your father's side of the standpoint? I am asking for you to tell me, sweetie boy, does your father live in the Seavue Spa Oceanfront Garden Arms and Apartments or do I live in the woods in a cave? And as to this particular residential, Jerome, we are talking from one floor to the next what? Are we talking ordinary people which got kids in cloaks and suits, or are we talking big shots, animals, k-nockers, shtarkers—namely your individuals which got kids in books? The works, Jerome—the cream of the crop of the literature industry, you got their families right here in residence here right here in this very building, Jerome, and I want to remind you that it is I your father and not you the brilliant hermit genius which is the human being which has to live with them! So did you never stop to think, "For my father, considering that he is a person of his years and age, I, Jerome David, his son which he would lay down his life for, am going to ask myself what is it like to live in a setup where everybody has got somebody who happens to be active in, you know, in the literature industry"? Darling, your father will put two and two together for you and will answer you with one word for you. So do you want to hear what this one word is? Because it is
C-O-M-P-A-R-I-S-O-N-S.
Comparisons,
Jerome! So you heard of comparisons, Jerome? Darling, you heard of when you live with animals which like k-nockers and like shtarkers got nothing better for them to do all day long but to
D-R-A-W
comparisons until your father could sit down and vomit from them? So you are not a genius in your own right and I got to draw for you a diagram when it comes to human beings drawing comparisons? You need me to draw for you Saul this and Saul that, Phillie this and Phillie that, not to mention Leon, Leon, Leon until your father's got it coming out of both ears and the man could not yet take it no more? Because you could live to be a thousand, Jerome, you still would not see no letup! And meanwhile does your father ever get to get even a word in? Does the man ever once—once!—ever hear Jerome this and Jerome that the way he used to hear it in the old days when guess who lived up there like a big shot himself in the penthouse? But God forbid the facts of life should be brought to your attention, darling. God forbid your father's darling boy should have to hear one peep regarding the tragic situation which his own flesh and blood happens to have to live here with. So stick a spear in me and break it off in my ribs because your father has the nerve to plead with you for your attention when it is the facts of life which is the topic that is on the table. Boychik, you know what it means where it says the facts of life? It means somebody has to live with them! So just for argument's sake, darling, between the two of us, when it comes to living with them guess which one of us between us got elected! Cutie boy, could you guess?

Listen, in 603, let's not kid ourselves, so it is probably no big deal for an individual to walk around with initials. Even with three initials, maybe up there in your area code they still would not look at you cock-eyed if this was your preference. But in 305, Jerome, your father hopes he does not have to tell you, they find out you got a child which refers to himself as J.D., you couldn't live long enough, you will never hear the end of it, these barbarians make your life a living hell! Meanwhile, who's complaining? On the other hand, believe me, your father would be the first to say I got plenty to be grateful for. Because when you hear what Gert Pinkowitz has got as a parent with
her
brilliant hermit genius, you will notice why your father is only too happy and glad to sit himself down and count every one of his blessings.