All right, all right, but lets’ talk about it some other time. Here she comes—let’s change the subject. I don’t want to rile her more than necessary—she’s had a hard day of it.
And so you’ve really got many fathers, I continued without a pause, looking straight at O’Mara. Mona was lowering herself into her seat. It’s like I was saying a moment ago…
What is this—double talk? said MacGregor.
Not for him, I said, never moving a muscle. I should have explained the talk we had the night before, but it’s too long. Anyway, as I was saying, when I came out of the dream I knew exactly what I had to tell you. (Looking steadfastly at O’Mara all the while.) It had nothing to do with the dream.
What dream? said MacGregor, slightly exasperated now.
The one I just explained to you, I said. Listen, let me finish talking to him, will you?
Waiter! called MacGregor, Ask these gentle-j men what they would like to drink, will you? To us—v I’m going to take a leak.
It’s like this, I said, addressing O’Mara, you’re lucky you lost your father when you were a kid. Now you can find your real father—and your real mother. It’s more important to find your real father than your real mother. You’ve found several fathers already, but you’ don’t know it. You’re rich, man. Why resurrect the dead? Look to the living! Why shit, there are fathers everywhere, all around you, better fathers by far than the one who gave you his name or the one who sent you to the asylum. To find your real father you first have to be a good son.
O’Mara’s eyes were twinkling. Go on, he urged, it sounds good even though I don’t know what the hell it all means.
But it’s simple, I said. Now look—take me, for instance. Did you ever think how lucky you were to find me? I’m not your father, but I’m a damned good brother to you. Do I ever ask you any embarrassing questions when you hand me money? Do I urge you to look for a job? Do I say anything if you lie in bed all day?
What’s the meaning of all this? demanded Mona, amused in spite of herself.
You know very well what I’m talking about, I replied. He needs affection.
We all do, said Mona.
We don’t need a thing, said I. Not really. We’re lucky, all three of us. We eat every day, we sleep well, we read the books we want to read, we go to a show now and then … and we have one another. A father? What do we need a father for? Listen, that dream I had settled everything—for me. I don’t even need a bike. If I can have a dream ride now and then, O.K.! It’s better than the real thing. In dream you never puncture a tire; if you do, it doesn’t matter a straw. You can ride all day and all night without getting exhausted. Ted was right. One has to learn to dream it off … If I hadn’t had that dream I wouldn’t have met that guy McFarland to-day. Oh, I haven’t told you about that, have I? Well, never mind, some other time. The point is I was offered a chance to write—for a new magazine. A chance to travel, too…
You never told me a thing about it, said Mona, all ears now. I want to hear…
Oh, it sounded good, said I, but the chances are it would turn out be another flop.
I don’t understand, she persisted. What were you to write for him?
The story of my life, no less.
Well … ?
I don’t think I can do it. Not like he wanted me to, at any rate.
You’re crazy, said O’Mara.
You’re going to turn it down? said Mona, completely mystified by my attitude.
I’ll think it over first.
I don’t understand you at all, said O’Mara. Here you’ve got the chance of a lifetime and you … why, a man like McFarland could make you famous overnight.
I know, I said, but that’s just what I’m afraid of. I’m not ready for success yet. Or rather I don’t want that kind of success. Between you and me—I’m going to be damned honest with you—I don’t know how to write. Not yet! I realized that immediately he made me the offer to write the damned serial. It’s going to take a long time before I know how to say what I want to say. Maybe I’ll never learn. And let me tell you another thing while I’m at it … I don’t want any jobs between times … neither publicity jobs nor newspaper jobs nor any kind of job. All I ask is to dawdle along in my own way. I keep telling you people I know what I’m doing. I mean it. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s my way. I can’t navigate any other way, do you understand?
O’Mara said nothing, but I sensed he was sympathetic. Mona, of course, was overjoyed. She thought I had underrated myself but she was terribly pleased that I wasn’t going to take a job. Once again she repeated what she had always been telling me: I want you to do as you please, Val. I don’t want you to think about anything but your work. I don’t care if it takes ten years or twenty years. I don’t care if you never succeed. Just write!
If what takes ten years? asked MacGregor, returning just in time to catch the tail end.
To become a writer, I said, giving him a good-natured grin.
You’re still talking about that? Forget it! You’re a writer now, Henry, only nobody knows it but you. Have you finished eating? I’ve got to go somewhere. Let’s get out of here. I’ll drop you off at the house.
We cleared out in a hurry. He was always in a hurry, MacGregor, even to attend a poker game, as it turned out. A bad habit, he said, half to himself. I never win either. If I really had something to do I suppose I’d get over such nonsense. It’s just a way of killing time.
Why do you have to kill time? I asked. Couldn’t you hang on with us? You could kill time just as well by chewing the fat. If you must kill time, I mean.
That’s true, he answered soberly, I never thought of that. I don’t know, I’ve got to be on the go all the time. It’s a weakness.
Do you ever read a book any more?
He laughed. I guess not, Henry. I’m waiting for you to write some. Maybe then I’ll read again. He lit a cigarette. Oh, now and then I do pick up a book, he confessed rather sheepishly, but it’s never a good one. I’ve lost all sense of taste. I read a few lines to send myself to sleep, that’s the truth of it, Henry. I can no more read Dostoievsky now, or Thomas Mann, or Hardy, than I can cook a meal. I haven’t the patience … nor the interest. You get stale grinding away in an office. Remember, Hen, how I used to study when we were kids? Jesus, I had ambition then. I was going to burn up the world, wasn’t I? Now … aw well … it doesn’t matter a damn. In our racket nobody gives a shit whether you’ve read Dostoievsky or not. The important thing is—can you win the case? You don’t require much intelligence to win a case, let me tell you that. If you’re really clever, you manage to stay out of court. You let somebody else do the dirty work. Yeah, it’s the old story, Henry. I get sick of harping on it. Nobody should take up law who wants to keep his hands clean. If he does he’ll starve…. You know, I’m always twitting you about being a lazy son of a bitch. I guess I envy you. You always seem to be having a good time. You have a good time even when you’re starving to death. I never have a good time. Not any more. Why I ever got married I don’t know. To make some one else miserable, I suppose. It’s amazing the way I gripe. No matter what she does for me it’s wrong. I do nothing but bawl the shit out of her.
Oh come, I said, to egg him on, you’re not as bad as all that.
Ain’t I, though? You should live with me for a few days. Listen, I’m so god-damned ornery I can’t even live with myself—how do you like that?
Why don’t you cut your throat? I said, giving him a broad smile. Really, when things get that bad, there’s no alternative.
You’re telling me? he cried. I have it out with myself every day. Yes sir—and he banged the wheel emphatically—every day of my life I ask myself whether I should go on living or not.
The trouble is you’re not serious, I said. You only have to ask yourself that question once and you know.
You’re wrong, Henry! It’s not as easy as all that, he remonstrated. I wish it were. I wish I could toss a coin and have done with it.
That’s no way to settle it, I said.
I know, Henry, I know. But you know me! Remember the old days? Christ, I couldn’t even decide whether to take a crap or not. He laughed in spite of himself. Have you noticed,
