[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
fidants and my mules, you know, for crossing the borders, and even
before cocaine ever hit the streets, so to speak, I was doing beautifully
in New York and L.A. with the rich, you know, the kind of customers
to whom you deliver personally. They never have to even leave their
palatial homes. You get the call. You show up. Your stuff is pure.
They like you. But I had to move out from there. I wasn't going to be
dependent upon that."
"I was too clever. I made some real-estate deals that were pure
brilliance on my part, and having the cash on hand, and you know
those were the days of hellish inflation. I really cleaned up."
"But how did Terry get involved in it, and Dora?"
"Pure fluke. Or destiny. Who knows? Went home to New Or-
leans to see my mother, brushed up against Terry and got her preg-
nant. Damned fool."
"I was twenty-two, my mother was really dying this time. My
mother said, 'Roger, please come home.' That stupid boyfriend with
die cracked face had died. She was all alone. I'd been sending her
plenty of money all along."
''The boardinghouse was now her private home, she had two
maids and a driver to take her around town in a Cadillac whenever
she felt the desire. She'd enjoyed it immensely, never asking any
questions about the money, and of course I'd been collecting
Wynken. I had two more books of Wynken by that time and my
treasure storehouse in New York already, but we can get to that later on.
Just keep Wynken in the back of your mind."
"My mother had never really asked me for anything. She had the
big bedroom upstairs now to herself. She said she talked to all the
others who had gone on ahead, her poor old sweet dead brother
Mickey, and her dead sister, Alice, and her mother, the Irish maid
the founder of our family, you might say to whom the house had
been willed by the crazy lady who lived there. My mother was also
talking a lot to Little Richard. That was a brother that died when he
was four. Lockjaw- Little Richard. She said Little Richard was
walking around with her, telling her it was time to come."
"But she wanted me to come home. She wanted me there in that
room. I knew all this. I understood. She had sat with boarders that
were dying. I had sat with others than Old Captain. So I went home."
"Nobody knew where I was headed, or what my real name was, or
where I came from. So it was easy to slip out of New York. I went to
the house on St. Charles Avenue and sat in the sickroom with her,
holding the little vomit cup to her chin, wiping her spittle, and trying
to get her on the bedpan when the agency didn't have a nurse to send.
We had help, yes, but she didn't want the help, you know. She didn't
want the colored girl, as she called her. Or that horrible nurse. And I
made the amazing discovery that these things didn't disgust me
much. I washed so many sheets. Of course there was a machine to put
them in, but I changed them over and over for her. I didn't mind.
Maybe I was never normal. In any event, I simply did what had to be
done. I rinsed out that bedpan a thousand times, wiped it off, sprin-
kled powder on it, and set it by the bed. There is no foul smell which
lasts forever after all."
"Not on this earth at least," I murmured. But he didn't hear me,
thank God.
"This went on for two weeks. She didn't want to go to Mercy
Hospital. I hired nurses round the clock just for backup, you know, so
they could take her vital signs when I got frightened. I played music
for her. All the predictable things, said the rosary out loud with her.
Usual deathbed scene. From two to four in the afternoon she toler-
ated visitors. Old cousins came. 'Where is Roger?' I stayed out of
sight."
"You weren't torn to pieces by her suffering."
"I wasn't crazy about it, I can tell you that. She had cancer all
through her and no amount of money could save her. I wanted her to
hurry, and I couldn't bear watching it, no, but there has always been a
deep ruthless side to me that says ' Do what you have to do'. And I
stayed in that room without sleep day in and day out and all night till
she died."
"She talked a lot to the ghosts, but I didn't see them or hear them.
I just kept saying, 'Little Richard, come get her. Uncle Mickey, if she
can't come back, come get her."
"But before the end came Terry, a practical nurse, as they called
them then, who had to fill in when we could not get the registered
nurse because they were in such demand. Terry, five foot seven,
blonde, the cheapest and most alluring piece of goods I had ever laid
eyes on. Understand. This is a question of everything fitting together
precisely. The girl was a shining perfect piece of trash."
I smiled. "Pink fingernails, and wet pink lipstick." I had seen her
sparkle in his mind.
"Every detail was on target with this kid. The chewing gum, the
gold anklet, the painted toenails, the way she slipped off her shoes
right there in the sickroom to let me see the toenails, the way the
cleavage showed, you know, under her white nylon uniform. And her
stupid, heavy-lidded eyes beautifully painted with Maybelline eye
pencil and mascara. She'd file her nails in there in front of me! But I
tell you, never have I seen something that was so completely realized,
finished, ah, ah, what can I say! She was a masterpiece."
I laughed, and so did he, but he went on talking.
"I found her irresistible. She was a hairless little animal. I started
doing it with her every chance I had. While Mother slept, we did it in
the bathroom standing up. Once or twice we went down the hall to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
fidants and my mules, you know, for crossing the borders, and even
before cocaine ever hit the streets, so to speak, I was doing beautifully
in New York and L.A. with the rich, you know, the kind of customers
to whom you deliver personally. They never have to even leave their
palatial homes. You get the call. You show up. Your stuff is pure.
They like you. But I had to move out from there. I wasn't going to be
dependent upon that."
"I was too clever. I made some real-estate deals that were pure
brilliance on my part, and having the cash on hand, and you know
those were the days of hellish inflation. I really cleaned up."
"But how did Terry get involved in it, and Dora?"
"Pure fluke. Or destiny. Who knows? Went home to New Or-
leans to see my mother, brushed up against Terry and got her preg-
nant. Damned fool."
"I was twenty-two, my mother was really dying this time. My
mother said, 'Roger, please come home.' That stupid boyfriend with
die cracked face had died. She was all alone. I'd been sending her
plenty of money all along."
''The boardinghouse was now her private home, she had two
maids and a driver to take her around town in a Cadillac whenever
she felt the desire. She'd enjoyed it immensely, never asking any
questions about the money, and of course I'd been collecting
Wynken. I had two more books of Wynken by that time and my
treasure storehouse in New York already, but we can get to that later on.
Just keep Wynken in the back of your mind."
"My mother had never really asked me for anything. She had the
big bedroom upstairs now to herself. She said she talked to all the
others who had gone on ahead, her poor old sweet dead brother
Mickey, and her dead sister, Alice, and her mother, the Irish maid
the founder of our family, you might say to whom the house had
been willed by the crazy lady who lived there. My mother was also
talking a lot to Little Richard. That was a brother that died when he
was four. Lockjaw- Little Richard. She said Little Richard was
walking around with her, telling her it was time to come."
"But she wanted me to come home. She wanted me there in that
room. I knew all this. I understood. She had sat with boarders that
were dying. I had sat with others than Old Captain. So I went home."
"Nobody knew where I was headed, or what my real name was, or
where I came from. So it was easy to slip out of New York. I went to
the house on St. Charles Avenue and sat in the sickroom with her,
holding the little vomit cup to her chin, wiping her spittle, and trying
to get her on the bedpan when the agency didn't have a nurse to send.
We had help, yes, but she didn't want the help, you know. She didn't
want the colored girl, as she called her. Or that horrible nurse. And I
made the amazing discovery that these things didn't disgust me
much. I washed so many sheets. Of course there was a machine to put
them in, but I changed them over and over for her. I didn't mind.
Maybe I was never normal. In any event, I simply did what had to be
done. I rinsed out that bedpan a thousand times, wiped it off, sprin-
kled powder on it, and set it by the bed. There is no foul smell which
lasts forever after all."
"Not on this earth at least," I murmured. But he didn't hear me,
thank God.
"This went on for two weeks. She didn't want to go to Mercy
Hospital. I hired nurses round the clock just for backup, you know, so
they could take her vital signs when I got frightened. I played music
for her. All the predictable things, said the rosary out loud with her.
Usual deathbed scene. From two to four in the afternoon she toler-
ated visitors. Old cousins came. 'Where is Roger?' I stayed out of
sight."
"You weren't torn to pieces by her suffering."
"I wasn't crazy about it, I can tell you that. She had cancer all
through her and no amount of money could save her. I wanted her to
hurry, and I couldn't bear watching it, no, but there has always been a
deep ruthless side to me that says ' Do what you have to do'. And I
stayed in that room without sleep day in and day out and all night till
she died."
"She talked a lot to the ghosts, but I didn't see them or hear them.
I just kept saying, 'Little Richard, come get her. Uncle Mickey, if she
can't come back, come get her."
"But before the end came Terry, a practical nurse, as they called
them then, who had to fill in when we could not get the registered
nurse because they were in such demand. Terry, five foot seven,
blonde, the cheapest and most alluring piece of goods I had ever laid
eyes on. Understand. This is a question of everything fitting together
precisely. The girl was a shining perfect piece of trash."
I smiled. "Pink fingernails, and wet pink lipstick." I had seen her
sparkle in his mind.
"Every detail was on target with this kid. The chewing gum, the
gold anklet, the painted toenails, the way she slipped off her shoes
right there in the sickroom to let me see the toenails, the way the
cleavage showed, you know, under her white nylon uniform. And her
stupid, heavy-lidded eyes beautifully painted with Maybelline eye
pencil and mascara. She'd file her nails in there in front of me! But I
tell you, never have I seen something that was so completely realized,
finished, ah, ah, what can I say! She was a masterpiece."
I laughed, and so did he, but he went on talking.
"I found her irresistible. She was a hairless little animal. I started
doing it with her every chance I had. While Mother slept, we did it in
the bathroom standing up. Once or twice we went down the hall to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]