— He’s, and please don’t keep saying of mine he’s, if he already has the controlling interest what good is Uncle John running around buying it up in bits and pieces if he can never…
— No no, just until he has enough to start dumping it and drive down the price you know, thought Beaton had probably tried to explain it to you.
— But even if the price goes down and Lucien still won’t sell I don’t see what good…
— Won’t have much choice of course though will he, looks like he’s borrowed against it all over the lot and when the price drops and he runs out of collateral the banks will sell it for him, all a damn nuisance for your Uncle John of course but…
— But what will happen to…
— This Joubert of, Joubert? Might ruin him of course but I wouldn’t…
— No to Francis, to Francis.
— Who?
— Francis! My little boy Francis, they said Lucien would try to use him as a weapon, that he…
— Wouldn’t get mixed up in this Amy, too many compli…
— Mixed up in it! But I am mixed up in it, he’s my son! Francis is my son! If Lucien took him to Geneva I don’t know what I… boys! I’m sorry, I’d better go after them…
— Yes take care of yourself Amy, wouldn’t get mixed up in all this right now you know. Take care of yourself.
— But, goodbye then, I hope… boys! Here, give me these cups. Where’s everyone else?
— They went all over, could we just go back and look at the…
— Well where’s Mister Vogel?
— He went to the toilet Mrs Joubert, could we just…
— No here he comes, I think we’re leaving, Mister Vogel? We’re over here. But where did you…
— Found one of the lost tribes camped out in the gents’.
— But where did you come from? she said bent down to the figure being weighed toward her by his shifting armload and the hand heavy on each shoulder.
— Me?
— Yes what on earth are you doing here?
— I’m on this here field trip.
— But you’re, this is an eighth grade trip and you’re not even… she straightened away from the trespass in the gaze fixed fallen over the boy’s head. — You’ve been with us all this time?
— Sure I was in the back of the bus, didn’t you see me? See I got this here special permission off Mrs diCephalis when I first heard about it, you know?
— No I don’t, what did you…
— See because like I’m real interested in art and all.
— You?
— Well like in all that Egyptian stuff and, you know, like these here broken statues and all. You know?
— I certainly didn’t, but I’m glad to hear it. And please find a handkerchief. Mister Vogel I’m awfully sorry but I have to leave, I really hadn’t counted on doing this today and something’s just come up…
— No I didn’t either, I thought I was taking them to the basketball game.
— Yes I’m afraid some of them did too but these mixups happen, and I’m sure no one will blame you, now how many were we. Three, four, boys over this way… They surged for the doors, — I’ll help you get them down to the bus and then if I can find a telephone, it’s a sort of family problem that I simply must, seven, eight, let’s all use the same door so we can keep, eleven, twelve, try to keep a line going down the steps, there’s a wind isn’t there… she excused the hand brushed behind her, and stepped away from it, — I hope you understand Mister Vogel and I’m sure you can explain things… She stepped away again but now it followed, lingered down the crevice. — I, I’m sure you can explain… she said, half a turn to him.
— I could feel its whiteness.
— I, pardon?
— I could feel its whiteness, underneath. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.
— Well I, I have to hurry, I…
— But just, Niadu Airgetlam Mrs Joubert, have you heard of him? Niadu of the Silver Hand?
— No I’m afraid I…
— Or Nodens, under the name Nodens?
— No I’m afraid not I…
— Or of the Fisher King? the Fisher King?
— No I can’t say that I, I think you’d better see to the children…
— It’s not that they don’t notice, at first they stare and then it’s just another fact, disfigurement is just a fact in the wasteland kids live in.
— Yes well I, I must hurry, I…
— Let me once, just, let me reach…
— Mister… Vogel please I…
— Just once…
— Mister… Vogel please you, you must see to the children… she got a step back toward the doors straightening her collar, — they’re waiting down there for you…
Down there the bus roared.
— Come on quit pushing…
— Hey Mister Vogel…?
— I know you can explain things to Mrs diCephalis when you get back out there, do be careful… It roared. The door clattered. — She may even have enjoyed the basketball…
And the cargo heaved, shifted, through lights, blocking intersections, — I’m sure no one will blame you… The bus wallowed through traffic, seethed through the tunnel where light caught his lips moving in the glass, — I know you can explain things… Lights passing in both directions, — She may even have enjoyed the basketball… He licked his lips. — Just once… the seats bounced, lights from both directions, — you can explain things… Lights, minutes, the hand on the illuminated dial pointing 50, 40, 55, the hand — She may even have enjoyed the basketball… the hand retreating at last, dropped to 20, 5, the cargo shifted, heaved, cheered from behind, — just another fact… mounted a curb crushing leaves, candy wrappers, — they’re waiting for you down there… And the lights came on, caught his lips again, the door clattered, — down there waiting for you… and he came through the still clash of headlights. — Just get back? crushing leaves, — enjoy the basketball?
— Enjoy the basketball! Are you…
— No way of knowing one bus from the other was there.
— Enjoy the basketball, my God! What are you talking about, one bus from the other.
— Never mind. I was afraid you’d understand.
— Afraid I’d, Vogel you’re crazy you know that? You’re crazy.
— Daisies won’t tell.
— Vogel you… wait, you’re not going to leave me to sort these kids out, come back here! I’m the one that’s leaving. All of you give your permission slips to Mister Vogel, she got back over a shoulder and then, past post and rail treated to appear old and frilled ironwork made of aluminum to appear new, wagon wheels at threatening angles and post lights bright in bilious greeting, — Daisies won’t tell, my God… up past the cast iron stove still stranded short of the door, — enjoy the basketball! and the door closed like a shot.
Foyer, hall, bathroom, foyer, snap, snap, snap, she started the round of turning on lights. — Nora? Donny? My God it’s like a morgue in here… and she rounded the corner where light now alerted the residents of the room divider in erect silhouette against the flaccid shadows beyond. — My God. What are you doing home.
— I thought you knew they were going to release me from the hospital today, I looked for you there and then I remembered…
— Released you, they thought you were a lion? So where did you think I was, dancing on the Starlight Roof?
— No I remembered this was the day you planned the trip to the Metropolitan Art…
— So you thought I was finally getting a chance to commute with the arts, do you think they didn’t sabotage that too? I spend a month planning something cultural and you think they didn’t grab it? Miss Moneybags and that crazy Vogel pretending he didn’t know one bus from the other, you think he went there for the art? The way she waves them in his face looking down her front like all the rest of you, with that face he’s got like Custer’s Last Stand you think he wasn’t grabbing one in the back of the bus while I’m watching a lot of smelly men play basketball?