It's a strange thing, I began, after I had wolfed some victuals, how little we reveal of our true selves even when at our best. You'd like me to carry on where I left off, I suppose? Must have been exciting, all that stuff I dredged up from the bottom. Only the aura of it remains now. But one thing I'm sure of—I know that I wasn't out of myself. I was in, in deeper than I've ever, ever been ... I was spouting like a fish, did you notice? Not an ordinary fish, either, but the sort that lives on the ocean floor.
I took a good gulp of wine. Marvelous wine, Rhine wine.
The strange thing is that it all came about because of that skeleton of a play on the wall over there. I saw and heard the whole thing. Why try to write it, eh? There was only one reason why I ever thought of doing it, and that was to relieve my misery. You know how miserable I am, don't you?
We looked at one other. Static.
It's funny, but in that state I was in everything seemed entirely as it should be. I didn't have to make the least effort to understand: everything was meaningful, justifiable and everlastingly real. Nor were you the devils I sometimes take you for. You weren't angels either, because I had a glimpse of real ones. They were something else again. I can't say as I'd want to see things that way all the time. Only statues...
Stasia broke in. What way? she wanted to know.
Everything at once, I said. Past, present, future; earth, air, fire and water. A motionless wheel. A wheel of light, I feel like saying. And the light revolving, not the wheel.
She reached for a pencil, as if to make a note.
Don't! I said. Words can't render the reality of it. What I'm telling you is nothing. I'm talking because I can't help it, but it's only a talking about. What happened I couldn't possibly tell you ... It's like that play again. The play I saw and heard no man could write. What one writes is what one wants to happen. Take us, we didn't happen, did we? No one thought us up. We are, that's all. We always were. There's a difference, what?
I turned directly to Mona. I'm really going to look for a job soon. You don't suppose I'm ever going to write living this kind of life, do you? Let's whore it, that's my idea now.
A murmur escaped her lips, as if she were about to protest, but it died immediately.
Yes, as soon as the holidays are over I'll strike out. Tomorrow I'll telephone the folks to let them know we'll be there for Christmas. Don't let me down, I beg you. I can't go there alone. I won't. And try to look natural for once, will you? No make-up ... no drag. Christ, it's hard enough to face them under the best of conditions.
You come too, said Mona to Stasia.
Jesus, no! said Stasia.
You've got to! said Mona. I couldn't go through with it without you.
Yes, I chimed in, do come along! With you around we won't be in danger of falling asleep. Only, do wear a dress or a skirt, will you? And put your hair up in a bun, if you can.
This made them mildly hysterical. What, Stasia acting like a lady? Preposterous!
You're trying to make a clown of her, said Mona.
I just ain't a lady, groaned Stasia.
I don't want you to be anything but your own sweet self, said I. But don't get yourself up like a horse and buggy, that's all.
Just as I expected, about three in the morning Christmas day the two of them staggered in dead drunk. The puppet, which they had dragged about with them, looked as if he had taken a beating. I had to undress them and tuck them between the sheets. When I thought they were sound asleep, what must they do but make pipi. Reeling and staggering, they groped their way to the John. In doing so they bumped into tables and chairs, fell down, picked themselves up again, screamed, groaned, grunted, wheezed, all in true dipsomaniac style. There was even a bit of vomiting, for good measure. As they piled into bed again I warned them to hurry and catch what sleep they could. The alarm was set for 9,0, I informed them.
I hardly got a wink of sleep myself; I tossed and fumed the whole night long.
Promptly at 9.80 the alarm went off. It went off extra loud, it seemed to me. At once I was on my feet. There they lay, the two of them, like dead. I pushed and prodded and pulled; I ran from one to the other, slapping them, pulling off the bed clothes, cursing them royally, threatening to belt them if they didn't stir.
It took almost half an hour to get them on their feet and sufficiently roused not to collapse on my hands.
Take a shower! I yelled. Hurry! I'll make the coffee.
How can you be so cruel? said Stasia.
Why don't you telephone and say we'll come this evening, for supper? said Mona.
I can't! I yelled back. And I won't! They expect us at noon, at one sharp, not to-night.
Tell them I'm ill, begged Mona.
I won't do it. You're going through with it if it kills you, do you understand?
Over the coffee they told me what they had bought for gifts. It was the gifts that caused them to get drunk, they explained. How was that? Well, in order to raise the money with which to buy the gifts they had had to tag around with some benevolent slob who was on a three day bender. Like that they got stinko. Not that they wanted to. No, they had hoped to duck him soon as the gifts were purchased, but he was a sly old bastard and he wasn't to be hoodwinked that easy. They were lucky to get home at all, they confessed.
A good yarn and probably half-true. I washed it down with the coffee.
And now, I said, what is Stasia going to wear?
She gave me such a helpless, bewildered look that I was on the point of saying Wear any damned thing you please!
