Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

“U. of. In the last MLA listing. And you?”

“Too. But Bob best. Rest. Me. You just talk.”

“My folks are fine. They’ve sent Nicholas something. It’s extravagant, so don’t send it back.”

“Yes.”

“No. They love you and only wish the same for me.”

“Two.”

“Two babies? You’re already planning to have another?”

“Me too for you. Rest.”

“Boy, I’m really getting it about that tonight. If and when the time comes, all right?”

“Now!”

“Stop?”

“Man?”

“Hey, wilt, will ya?”

“Well?”

“Several. Nobody special. This one and that. Part of the reason I called. One I met tonight, not even a this or that, is on his way here—”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing to get excited about — he got himself locked out of his apartment and that’s that. But I’m waiting and waiting. Met him at Sven and Dot’s wedding reception.”

“They?”

“Okay.”

“It?”

“Glittering. Grim-visaging. Wanted to commit partycide. What the hell. Their affair. But this man there — met him for a minute — no, that was at Diana Salter’s earlier homier affair — Dan, and what do you know goddamn, he called and is coming over to sleep on the couch because of that lockout and I’m waiting and have nothing to do, not that I don’t always love talking to you, except when you’re pressing me to get wed — been, remember? been — so thought of calling you.”

“Glad.”

“After this call — even during it if he rings from downstairs — not answering or letting him in. The phone, the door — heck with it, it’s already become something of a joke.”

“Do.”

“What, let him in?”

“Do.”

“Why?”

“Why? Want some honest but for a change good advice? No. Can’t. It’ll still the mill. Rest.”

“I’m curious though. Just take a few elucidative sees.”

“Feel.”

“Feel isn’t to see. Because he doesn’t seem that interesting. Nothing I said made him out to be. Locked out — what’s that? Translates lits — hot stuff? Just a nice nervy and slightly flaky bright guy who’s kept me from sleep too long. And if he was that interesting or more interesting than I see and interested in seeing me again and I thought him interesting enough to want to see, he could always or I could always, call me or call him, but another day next week.”

“Do. Ohhh—”

“Sounds incommunicable.”

“Is. Then painful. Then is. And not just the engorgement and cracked teats. For when it comes down sometimes, pain like knives needling the breasts. Ever hear about that before? No nonmilker did and mixed up the knifing needles likening a twit and I’m not the only feeder to feel this. What, some collusion or my illusion about eternal women where we milkers are only allowed to talk about it among ourselves? Worth it? Yes — Had enough there, schnooky? No. Got its mitts up and wants me to stick it back in. But that tit can’t take anymore and other’s temporarily out of the running. No. Shakes his head. Wronged face. About to grief. Okay, got some drops left in both but gonna talk while you’re bleeding them — Hear him? Whale of a wail Bob’s said. My mind’s felt like pudding since but oh this is so incommunicable having a kid — It’s Helene — Bob just woke up. Rolled over. Missed the kid. Scratched his butt. Squeezed his nuts. Seemed to say hello to you, so hello from Bob.”

“And hi,” Bob says from afar.

“Hi and hello, Bob.”

“You hear the baby say ‘hi’ too?” Marietta says. “An imitative hi but a hi. You say impossible. Well, you can say ‘impossible’ because you’ve some days on him, but so far he can only say ‘hi,’ and twice an ‘oy.’ He really did twice oy, but almost anytime I want, a ‘hi.’ Say ‘hi,’ baby.”

“Hi,” the baby or Marietta imitating the baby says.