The Anatomy Lesson (14 page)

“
So did we all. Dr. Kotler. What are you doing in New York?
”

“
Good practical question. Living. Eight years now. Man in
exile. Child of the times. I gave up my wonderful practice, my
cherished friends, took my books and my mementos, packed the
last of my pillows, and establ
ished myself here at the age of
seventy. Life anew in my eighth decade on earth. Now on my way to the Metropolitan Museum. I go for the great Rembrandt. I
’
m studying his masterpieces a foot at a time. Quite a discipline. Very rewarding. The man was a magician. Also studying Holy Scriptures. Delving into all the translations. Amazing what
’
s in there. Yet the writing I don
’
t like. The Jews in the Bible were always involved in highly dramatic moments, but they never learned to write good drama. Not like the Greeks, in my estimation. The Greeks heard a sneeze and they took off. The sneezer becomes the hero, the one who reported the sneeze becomes the messenger, the ones who overheard the sneeze, they became the chorus. Lots of pity, lots of terror, lots of cliff-hanging and suspense. You don
’
t get that with the Jews in the Bible. There it
’
s all round-the-clock negotiation with God.
”
“
You sound like you know how to keep going.
”
Wish I could say the same for myself; I wish, he thought childishly, you could teach me.

“
Do as I like, Nathan. Always have. Never dented myself what counted. And I believe I know what counted. I
’
ve been some use to others too. Kept a balance, you might say. I want to send you a pillow. Free of charge. For the wonderful memories you brought back to life. No reason for you to be in this pain. You don
’
t sleep on your stomach, I trust.
”

“
On my side and on my back, as far as I know.
”
“
Heard this story a thousand times. I
’
m sending a pillow and a case.
”

And here they were. Also, tucked in the box, a typewritten note on the doctor
’
s stationery:
“
Remember, don
’
t place Dr. Kotler
’
s Pillow on top of an ordinary pillow. It does the job by itself. If there is no significant improvement in two weeks, phone me at RE 4-4482. With longstanding problems, manipulation could be required at the outset. For recalcitrant cases there are hypnotic techniques.
”
The letter was signed
“
Dr. Charles L. Kotler, Dolorologist.
”

And if, by itself, the pillow worked and the pain completely vanished? He couldn
’
t wait for night to fall so he could take it to sleep. He couldn
’
t wait for it to be January 4 and the first day of class. He couldn
’
t wait for 1981—that was when he
’
d be opening his office. 1982 at the latest. He
’
d pack the dolorologist
’
s pillow for Chicago—and he
’
d leave the harem behind. With Gloria Galanter he
’
d gone too
far, even for a man as disabled
as himself. With
Roger
’
s Thesaurus
under his head and Gloria sitting on his face, Zuckerman understood just how little one can depend upon human suffering to produce ennobling effects. She was the wife, the coddled and irreplaceable wife, of the genial wizard who
’
d weaned Zuckerman reluctantly away from his triple-A bonds and nearly doubled his capital in three years. Marvin Galanter was such a fan of
Carnovsky
that in the beginning he
’
d refused even to bill Zuckerman for his services; at their first meeting the accountant told Nathan that he would pay any penalties out of his own pocket, should the IRS challenge the shelters.
Carnovsky,
Marvin claimed, was his own life story; for the author of that book, there was nothing whatsoever that he wouldn
’
t do.

Yes, he must divest himself at least of Gloria—only he couldn
’
t resist her breasts. Alone on the playmat, foll
owing the rheu
matologist
’
s suggestion to try to find some means to distract himself from his pain, he sometimes thought of nothing but her breasts. Of the four women in the harem, it was with Gloria that his helplessness hit bottom—while Gloria herself seemed the happiest, in a strange and delightful way seemed the most playfully independent, tethered though she was to his wretched needs. She distracted him with her breasts and delivered his food: Green-berg
’
s chocolate cakes, Mrs. Herbst
’
s strudel, Zabar
’
s pumpernickel, beluga in pots from the Caviarteria, the lemon chicken from Pearl
’
s Chinese Restaurant, hot lasagna from
“
21.
”
She sent the chauffeur all the way down to Allen Street for the stuffed peppers from Seymour
’
s Parkway, and then came over in the car to heat them up for his dinner. She rushed into the little kitchenette in her red-fox Russian
Cossack
coat and, when she came out with the steaming pot, was wearing only her heels. Gloria was nearing forty, a firm, hefty brunette with protruding circular breasts like targets, and electrifying growths of hair. Her face could have been a Spanish mulatto
’
s: almond eyes, a wide, imposing jaw, and full rounded lips with peculiarly raised edges. There were bruises on her behind. He wasn
’
t the only primitive she babied and he didn
’
t care. He ate the food and he tasted the breasts. He ate the food off the breasts. There was nothing Gloria didn
’
t remember to carry in her bag: nippleless bra, crotchless panties, Polaroid camera, vibrating dildo. K-Y jelly, Gucci blindfold, a length of braided velvet rope—for a treat, on his birthday, a gram of cocaine.
‘
Times have changed,
”
said Zuckerman,
“
since all you needed was a condom.
”
“
A child is sick,
”
she
said,
“
you bring toys.
”
True, and Dionysian rites were once believed to have a therapeutic effect on the physically afflicted. There were also the ancient treatments known as the imposition of hands. Gloria had classical history on her side. His own mother
’
s means for effecting a cure were to play casino on the edge of the bed with him when he was home with a fever. So as not to fall behind in her housework, she
’
d set her ironing board up in his bedroom while they gossiped about school and his friends. He loved the smell of ironing still. Gloria, lubricating a finger and slipping it in his anus, talked about her marriage to Marvin.

Zuckerman said to her,
“
Gloria, you
’
re the dirtiest woman I
’
ve ever met.
”

“
If I
’
m the dirtiest woman you
’
ve ever met, you
’
re in trouble. I fuck Marvin twice a week. I put down my book, put out my cigarette, turn out the light, and roll over.
”

“
On your back?
”

“
What else? And then he puts it in and I know just what to do to make him come. And then he mumbles something about tits and love and he comes. Then I put on the light and roll on my side and light up a cigarette and get on with my book. I
’
m reading the one you told me about. Jean Rhys.
”

“
What do you do to make him come?
”

“
I
make three circles this way, and three circles the other way, and I draw my fingernail down his spine like this—and he comes.
”

“
So you do seven things.
”

“
Right. Seven things. And then he says something about my tits and love, and he comes. And then he falls asleep and I can tum on the light again and read. This Jean Rhys terrifies me. The other night after reading her book about that shit-on woman and no money, I rolled over and kissed him and said,
‘
I love you, sweetheart.
’
But it
’
s hard fucking him, Nathan. And getting harder. You always think in a marriage,
“
This is as bad as it can be
’
—and next year it
’
s worse. It
’
s the most odious duty I
’
ve ever had to perform. He says to me sometimes when he
’
s straining to come,
‘
Gloria, Gloria, say something dirty.
’
I have to think hard, but I do it. He
’
s a wonderful father and a wonderful husband, and he deserves all the help he can get. But still, one night I really thought I couldn
’
t take it anymore. I put down my book and I put out the light and finally I said it to him. I said,
‘
Marv, something
’
s gone out of our marriage.
’
But he was almost
snoring by then.
‘
Quiet.
’
he mumbles.
‘
Shhhhh, go to sleep.
’
I don
’
t know what to do. There
’
s nothing I
can
do. The odd thing and the terrible thing and the thing that
’
s most confusing is that without a doubt Marvin was the real love of my life and beyond a doubt I was the love of Marvin
’
s life and although we were never never happy, for about ten years we had a passionate marriage and all the trimmings, health, money, kids, Mercedes, a double sink and summer houses and everything. And so miserable and so attached. It makes no sense. And now I have these night monsters, three enormous night monsters: no money, death, and getting old. I can
’
t leave him. I
’
d fall apart. He
’
d fall apart. The kids would go nuts and they
’
re screwy as it is. But I need excitement, I
’
m thirty-eight.
I
need extra attention.
”

“
So, have your affairs.
”

“
They
’
re murder too, you know. You can
’
t always control your feelings in those things. You can
’
t control the other person
’
s feelings either. I have one now who wants to run away with me to British Columbia. He says we can live off the land. He
’
s handsome. He
’
s young. Bushy hair. Very savage. He came up to the house to restore some antiques and he started by restoring me. He lives in a terrible loft. He says,
‘
I can
’
t believe I
’
m fucking you.
’
When he
’
s fucking me. That excites me, Nathan. We take baths together. It
’
s fun. But is that any reason to run out on being Adam and Toby
’
s mother and Marvin
’
s wife? When the kids lose something, who
’
s going to find it for them if I
’
m in British Columbia?
‘
Mommy, where is my eraser?
’
‘
Just a second, dear, I
’
m in the bathroom. Wait. I
’
ll look for it.
’
Somebody
’
s looking for something, I help—that
’
s mothers. You lost something, I
have
to look.
‘
Mommy, I found it.
’
‘
I
’
m glad you found it, dear.
”
And I am—when they find the eraser, Nathan, I
’
m happy. That
’
s how I fell in love with Marvin. The very first time I was in his apartment, and within five minutes, he looked at me and said,
‘
Where
’
s my cigarette lighter, Gloria, my good lighter?
’
And I got up and looked around, and I found it.
‘
Here it is, Marvin.
’
‘
Oh, good.
’
I was hooked. That was it. Look, I
live
for the baths
I
take with my Italian bambino and his bushy hair and his iron biceps—but how can I leave these people and expect that they
’
ll find what they lose on their own? With you it
’
s okay—with you it
’
s like a brother. You need and I need and that
’
s it. Besides, you know what a good girl you
’
ve got in Cos Cob
’
s cunning
little
whore.
”
She
’
d accidentally met Diana when she stopped by unannounced
one afternoon and the chauffeur
dragged in a potted palm tree to liven up the sickroom.
“
She
’
s perfect for you. Underage, upper-class, and really slutty in that
little
toy skirt—juicy, tike when you bite into a fresh apple or a good pear. I like the gun-molt mouth. Clever contrast to the high
I
Q. While we were debating where to put the tree I saw her down the corridor—in the bathroom, making herself up. A
born
b could have gone off in there and she wouldn
’
t have known it.
I
wouldn
’
t drop her.
”