The Ginger Man

  "It's on the floor there."

  "I want no mere. Just nothing. Nothing. O Jesus. Honestly, I need distraction, I can't do with this any longer. Just forget it and leave me in peace for tonight because if I don't get peace—that's all."

  "The pot's under the table."

  "Thanks."

  "There are two onions and a carrot if you want to put them in"

  "Thanks."

  "I put five pence in the gas."

  "O.K"

  "I'll help if you like."

  "It's O.K Is there any of my garlic left?"

  "I saw a clove in the table drawer."

  Marion standing holding her hands. Intense, despaired. She moves around and goes to the chair, puts her hands on the arms and looks out the window with the sky darkening with clouds and rain drops hitting the panes. Sound of him juggling pots in the kitchen. Knife striking the table top and the head drowning in the water. I see so many old vegetables, wrinkled and dry at the bottom of so many drawers. A little peace. Just a little. I would like very much to have a few days in the country, watching the cows sucking up the grass.

  "I'm going out a minute, Marion. Anything you want? Don't cry. For heaven's sake, don't cry. What are you crying for? Please. I'll be back in a minute, now don't cry. You don't want anything?"

  "No."

  God rest ye merry gentlemen. It's just a matter of time. Raining again. And cold now. One more pint. I'd like to have something to soothe my nerves. I ought to be a chemist —nervebalm, new product of Dangerfield, largest dispensing chemists in the world. Big signs all over Ireland. Nervebalm. Undignified. Keep the dignity and to hell with the money.

  He moved swiftly down the street. And stands at the bar drinking down a foaming pint of porter. Orders another and goes with it to sit by the fire. Crossing his legs, studying the hole in a heel Sole of the feet wanning deliriously and the brown gargle as they say was putting the mind afloat Poor Marion. Not such a bad person. But what fantastic notion put that into her head, Was there any love left I think that the best thing I can do under the circumstances is to just lie low until it blows over. O the weapons by which we the tender hearted, live. The father will be upon me.

  But now I'll get back to that sheep's head. Eyes. I love the eyes. Ill give a clear soup to Marion. She ought to darn my socks and dean my shirts. Things could be different Must control myself hereafter. Might break a blood vessel in my brain and die wiggling. Everybody wants it both ways. Money and love. Get it one way, and I'm just completely screwed. Two ounces of butter. Pushing in the door of a tiny shop.

  "Good evening, sir"

  "Good evening."

  "Fine evening. Looks as if it will hold."

  "Yes."

  "Blow over. Best you can expect"

  "Best you can expect."

  "Could you give me two ounces of butter?"

  "Two ounces did you say, sir?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, I don't know. We sell butter usually by the weight —half pound or a pound."

  "Do you sell quarter pounds?"

  "Well, I think so."

  "Could you give me half a quarter pound?"

  "Yes."

  "Half a quarter pound then."

  Sebastian watching him. O you sly gombeen man. The backs of these stores, most sordid places in the world. In there with his big-busted wife, two barrels banging. You stupid, intolerable oaf.

  Man handing him the little package. carefully tied, with a loop for his finger.

  Out into the air. A contrast Bit of turf smell. Things not so bad. Wait and see what happens. Have to take what comes. Good with the bad. Lot in these old sayings. How one can tell lies in times of stress. My God, it's absolutely awful. Be made for the world. But the world was made for me. Here long before I arrived and they spent years getting it ready. Something got mixed up about my assets.

  He shoved the green door in with his toe and kicked it dosed with his heel. Marion sitting in the chair. I won't ask her to get out of it this evening. Suffer a little discomfort for the sake of peace. Have her terrified and keep her that way. Makes her very quiet. OI smell it. O me. Am I a cook. Wee. Make O'Keefe swoon with envy. Must write him. Have a flair for cooking. I have, I have. Now a nice bowl of clear for Marion. Put a little of the butter to be floating majestically around in it, bit of richness. Be calm, use Nervebalm.

  "Marion."

  She looks up, hesitant. Reaches out her two hands and clasps the white bowl. The glass has been cleaned up, pieces of my anger.

  "Thank you"

  "Here's bread and a bit of butter."

  "Thanks."

  "Taste it."

  "Good. Thanks."

  "Enough salt? Don't cry anymore now. It's all right. It's just that this evening I came home on the train with my penis out."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Forgot to button my fly."

  "And did people see you?"

  "Yes."

  "O no."

  "O yes. Most exasperating thing that ever happened in my life. It was out from Dublin to the Rock."

  "You poor darling. I'm sorry for everything."

  Life's much better that way. Patch things up. Renewed sense of security. If we could get out of this house. Skully has us by the balls. The lease is a noose. O'Keefe was right, never pay rent. Cramped between these damp walls. The child gets me right in the ear. Must find a bigger house. Just get the hell out of here. Explain to the father. But it's impossible to undo the damage with a new set of lies.

  Filling the bowl. Spooning out the eyes, sliding them into the mouth. Wag them around. Sit down and rest This is very nice.

  "Where are you going, Sebastian?''

  "Just thought of something. Need a little fire for cheer."

  Out in the hall a second. Back and has it in the center of the floor a raised foot goes crash, splintered and cracked. One genuine antique, Louis the cat torts.

  "O Sebastian, you mustn't"

  "O I think so, for the fire that's in it. My Dear Egbert, you see, we were at the cinema, having left our dear child with an aunt and a rogue or rogues. Front door's broken. His responsibility. A little matter of theft in this great Catholic country."

  "He won't believe it."

  "He has no alternative. If he accuses me of anything, I'D have him know I'm being slandered. Student of the law you know. Must have him understand that I know the law."

  Sebastian stood on the couch, lifts his foot again over the chair, crashing through the center.

  "Now that's a case of engineering. Puts a general weakness in the structure."

  He turned the chair upside down and broke the legs off one by one.

  "A little paper in the grate, Marion. I'll be back in a second."

  He walked out of the house, a small bag with him. Marion put the pieces of chair on the fire. Sebastian back, opening his little bag proudly, bearing forth seven lumps of coal

  "Sebastian, what in the name of God have you done? Where did you get that coal?"

  "Now, now, never question these good things"

  "But it's really stealing"

  "Theft is only in the heart"

  "O dear"

  "Marion, Land of hope and glory, mother of the free"

  "You're nice like this"

  Sitting in the little room, doors shut and window too. Glow, coal and merits of marriage. Full of sheep's eyes. Juice of the skull, I take up my pen.

  My dear Kenneth,

  There is a word for it all; funt. Now if you say this word upon rising in the morning and before each meal, you will see things change. To get the best out of it one must place one's incisors on the lips and exhale till there is a hissing noise and then the word. It is also good for fertility. And I may add that I am a great believer in fertility. Things here are a little desperate. There are items like rent. You see, a man gives you a key and you go into this house and start to carry on your life and at the end of the week you give this man three slips of paper with redeemable in London written on
them and the man lets you stay where you are. If you don't give this man these little pieces of paper you find that he is outside the window watching you scratch your balls and as you may well realize, to have impersonal eyes upon you while dealing with testicular itch is a most awkward state of affairs. So I look to you, Holy Duke, to allow me to stay on payment of ten desperate papers redeemable in London. By the way, London is a very fine city, largest in the world. There is something in the back of my head which makes me think I will be there one of these days.

  About this boy. A most shocking state of affairs. It is not, my dear Kenneth, that I am prude. Far from it But really, do you think it wise to give up the joys of the heterosexual world without first considering all its possibilities. Grant you, there is no question but that it can be trying and even devastating to endure the celibacy but once you have achieved success, presto, little O'Keefes, just like you. But if you have despaired, if you have the heteroghost, then there is nothing for it but to give yourself with abandon. But with this boy. Let him get to know you better. Show your interest in others. Unfortunately, it is difficult for me to advise you in these matters and I can only depend upon knowledge, which at best, is merely general. But it will take time, Kenneth, time, for all these things we want so much. We must be prepared to wait for them. But they will come, on one bright and sunny morning. About ejaculatio praecox; this will right itself in time with practice. I assume that your present method of fulfillment is by hand. I therefore suggest to you that you take things easier. It is a matter of degrees, degrees of misery, perhaps, but do you know that I find the tougher things get, I become more immune, must be the development of a natural defense, you know the sort of business, to every action an equal and opposite reaction. I should suppose that these things are so.

  I haven't seen anyone since you left, indeed for several months, because I must keep off the main streets but my courage is developing and I feel that I may see a day or two of the good life with some of these people I have not seen for some time. Dublin is a curious city. It is a city which is full of the good things but somehow one is too busy thinking about things like bread and tea, peace and a place to sleep where the rain dripping in does not give one the dream of the Titanic I spend a lot of my time walking along the canal and having coffee, when I can afford, in Jury's. When you come back to the ould sod I will be very happy to take you there. One sits under palm trees, with legs crossed and one talks and comes to all sorts of conclusions some of which are valuable, others merely interesting. But we expect all these things. They are still taking them out to the Grange every morning. I find it most stimulating but much more so since I have bought myself a second hand bicycle and have painted it black and put a little black flag on the handle bars and I take up the rear of all funerals going to the Grange. I have found that some people laugh at me for doing this and think that perhaps this man is a little mad but I say o aye and go on about my little tortured business. I have discovered one of the great ailments of Ireland, 67% of the population have never been completely naked in their lives. Now don't you, as a man of broad classical experience, find this a little strange and perhaps even a bit unhygienic. I think it is certainly both of these things. I am bound to say that this must cause a great deal of the passive agony one sees in the streets. There are other things wrong with this country but I must leave them wait for they are just developing in my mind. But you must try not to take your problem too seriously. You see, sex is something that we have to make new and better babas. If you can make a baba then you are all right I feel that it is a selfish world that wants this cheap thrill that one comes by in making a baba. Forget it

  Tonight I am nestled up in my little drawing room. I have had a hard day of it Some say that it will always be this hard for me but they are mostly bastards. I committed an act of indecency on the train out to the Rock, about which I will tell you when you are back in the ould sod. There are some other things too, also left to tell you when you come. I take it you are a little desperate and would like to get back to the ould country. Why not come back? You should be able to find something to do here without much trouble, especially speaking French. I'll be very happy to put you up here and feed you with what we have and in closing my dear Kenneth I hope you will find use for this,

  12

  Raining outside. Cold morning. Felicity in her pram in the kitchen, wiggling a toothbrush in a jam jar. Marion standing against the mantelpiece in front of the black empty grate. Wearing slippers, wrapped in a blanket, her shanks showing. Just finished reading the letter, folding it carefully and slipping it back into its envelope.

  I could tell there was trouble. I came down the stairs with my usual innocence and pain right smack into her silence which is the sign that she has a weapon. She stood there as if she were watching the groom saddle her horse. There was a smear of lipstick at the corner of her mouth, gave her a twisted smile. I thought for a second she was an Inca. She was quite polite when I asked her who the letter was from. She said simply, from your father.

  I'll get my glasses."

  "I'm afraid the letter is addressed to me."

  "What do you mean, you're afraid ? "

  "Just that. You're not going to read it."

  "Now just a minute, that letter is from my father and I intend to know what's in it."

  "And I intend you shan't."

  "Don't get snotty."

  "I'll be as snotty as I want. I no longer have to tolerate your nastiness."

  "What's this mumbo jumbo. Don't act as if you have a secret file on me."

  "I assure you it's not mumbo jumbo. I'm leaving this house."

  "Now look, Marion, I don't feel well. I'm not up to farting about at this godforsaken hour of the morning. Now just what the hell do you mean you're leaving this house?"

  "Leaving this house."

  "There's a lease,"

  "I know there's a lease."

  "For three years."

  "I know it's for three years."

  Marion's eyebrows raised. She kept reaching over her shoulder, pulling the blanket up. Sebastian stood in the doorway wearing a pair of purple pajamas, bright red slippers and a gray turtle necked sweater, its yarn unravelling, the string suspended behind him and disappearing up the stairs.

  "Ah for Jesus sake, now let's not get started. I only want to know what you're talking about. You know, just for the sake of making things clear, I'll never get this damned exam if I have to face more misunderstanding. Now what is it? Has my father made you an offer of money or something?"

  "You're not reading the letter."

  "All right. I'm not reading the letter. Now tell me, what the hell is this all about?"

  "Your father is on my side."

  "Look Marion, all right. Now we know that you have everything your way. I know the drivel in that letter. Probably sent you a check."

  "As a matter of fact, he did."

  "Told you that I've always been a bastard."

  "Quite."

  "Expelled from schools."

  "Yes."

  "All right. What are you going to do ?"

  "Move from here, instantly."

  "Where?"

  "I'm going to see an agent this morning."

  "What about the lease?"

  "That's your doing."

  "You stupid bitch."

  "Go right ahead. Say anything you want. It matters nothing to me. By the way, you've left half my sweater on the stairs."

  "Now, Marion, let's understand each other. I don't fed that this fighting is going to get us anywhere"

  "It's certainly not going to get you anywhere"

  "Now look, how much is the check."

  "That's my business"

  "I've got to get my typewriter out of the pawn, I must have it for my notes"

  "Ha. Ha. Ha"

  Marion's mocking head back, disdainfully shutting eyes. The blue vein, handsome and large on the blonde throat Pink slip and her shanks shifting the slippers, grinding the coal dust on the flo
or.

  "Supposing I admit to a few indiscretions."

  "Indiscretions? That really is amusing you know."

  "Now that we have a chance to start over again."

  "We do, do we? O we. It's we now."

  "I'm thinking about the lease."

  "You signed it"

  Sebastian turned and went quietly up the stairs. Tip toe, tip toe. Dragging the wool string behind. Into the bedroom. Dropping the purples, pulling on the trousers. Tied a knot in the sweater. Put his sockless feet into shoes. A jacket for the respect that was in it. And my dear pair of golfing shoes. Pity, but must to the pawn. Ten and six for sure. Now my dear Marion, I'll give you a little something to think about.

  In the toilet, Sebastian forced a board up from the floor. He hammered a nail through the lead pipe with the heel of his golfing shoe. He went quietly down the stairs. Marion saw him pass out the hall. The door squeaked shut.

  I'll say one thing. She's not going to pull this stuff much longer. This is final If she wants it this way, this way it shall be.

  In this bitterness and hazy hatred. No cozy road to the swelled udders. This is at the midnight of everything. Because when I was living in America I had a lot of good things. I never had to think about hot water. I went to my dub where it was running rampant Stand under a shower and let it beat the head. Soothed me. Ease and comfort and quiet is all I want. And on this damn tram I'm riding into the face of debt and other things as well. I'm a college student standing on the chapel steps with the white paper which says I know the law of Contract and can be paid starvation wages for a year. My certificate that I won't steal from the open till but I'm a gentleman and I'll dose the till after rifling it.

  Four o'clock on this oblong Tuesday. Sebastian pushing through the door of a secret public house, moved cautiously to an empty space at the bar. Bartender suspiciously approaching him.

  "I want a triple Irish, Gold Label. Quickly please."

  "Sir, I'm afraid I can't serve you"

  "You what?"