Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

“Really, I forget. Anyway, I showed up in court hangdog and without lawyer, since I thought the judge would be favorably disposed to that. And pretended, as with the psychiatrist, to be, despite my university connection, which only involved student-teaching to a master’s degree I never completed, a bit weak-minded and oversensitive to the point a few times of doing my sincerest best to repress real tears, and very unorganized and alone. I was living with a woman then but left her a block from the courthouse and told her not to give a sign in the courtroom that she knew me. I also saw there the man I hit, still with Band-Aids on his face and walking with a cane. I never asked nor found out if he’d walked with one before the accident. I wasn’t questioned in depth about driving while drunk, since I was able, when I got out of the car the second time — and because they also didn’t give me the balloon test, since the drunk driver they’d picked up before me got so incensed at what she called a divestment of her civil liberties that she punctured it with her fingernails. Anyway, I was able to make all my alcohol mannerisms and breath disappear. ‘Get stark raving sober,’ I told myself when I left the car, ‘you’re in trouble up to here.’ Impossible, I know. But about drinking, I said to the judge when he asked, ‘Yes, had a wine and a half at that party up the hill, but some yogurt before and a glass of milk after to coat it.’ Also, after I said I’m sorry to the guy for what had happened to us, he asked if I’d said anything to him when he was in the car — he seemed to remember it. I said ‘No, except for “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be all right,” while I held your hand and dabbed blood from your eyes.’ ‘Okeydoke,’ he said. ‘This is the Wild West so accidents like that can happen, just so long as your insurance company takes care of it.’ The judge advised me to plead nolo contendere and I got a twenty-two-dollar fine and they didn’t even take my license away for a day. That was it. I walked the two miles home alone in the rain because I wanted to save on the cab fare and not be seen with my woman friend. Story has a rather unuplifting ending, but what can I say? When I got back she called me a louse for everything I’d done that day, wouldn’t even run a warm tub for me and soon after that moved out, but more because we were broke and she’d just turned thirty and wanted to get married and have a child right away, while I—”

“You’d think they would have slapped something more than a small fine on you,” shorter man says.

“You’re right. But after all my lies to the trooper and judge, I certainly wasn’t going to ask for it. Besides, I couldn’t afford to go to jail or pay a big fine. Look, I was lucky.”

“Did you watch a lot of TV in those days?” ponytailed man says.

“No, why?”

“When you were young then. Were you affixiated, I like to call it, to the TV screen?”

“No more than most kids my age. Howdy Doody at five every afternoon. There weren’t as many stations and programs then. Mostly test patterns and Gorgeous George and Ralph Bellamy as a private eye I think and maybe not even Uncle Miltie yet. But you think there’s some connection with my lying and conniving to TV?”

“I’ve theories, but nothing proven in the lab. But the art of getting away with things or thinking you can — that can be too much TV. That jail isn’t real, for instance, but that wouldn’t apply to you, since you wanted to avoid a sentence. You said you were lucky. Well, then Mr. Lucky perhaps — a character in the early days of TV.”

“I don’t remember him.”

“Flipping a coin? Dressed sharply? Always led off with ‘Hello, suckers — life still thrilling?’ No? If you do go back to Howdy Doody days, tell me — the early Howdy or the late?”

“You mean the one before he had plastic surgery on his face?”

“So, if you go back that far—”

“Hey, you too — his operation right on TV — right? right?” and I slap his palm though he didn’t offer it and say “And the doctors in masks working over him and his convalescence for weeks after with bandages covering his face. And he was so ugly before, but interesting, remember? — but much worse after because they made his face so cute and telegenic with too many freckles. And the Peanut Gallery and Bob Smith too?”

“I sat in it on TV one day.”

“So did I. Sent away for the seat. I wonder if we were in it the same day.”

“I’m sure not. And I only went as a chaperon for my younger sister, so I have to be a lot older than you.”

“I don’t know — I was a late bloomer. My family was afraid I’d never come around.”

“That’s surprising to hear. Still, getting back — but I’ve lost track of what I was going to say, and I have to apologize about Mr. Lucky. He was in the movies, even if somehow,” tapping his head, “it still registers TV. But I’m also starting to freeze out here, so no further questions.”