The knock sounded again harder, the voice fainter behind it, — Hello Mister…?
— But like who…
— No it’s just, it’s just an old man who…
— What like Grynszpan? I mean how do you…
— No no it’s just, wait he’ll go away…
— Hello Mister?
— Beat it, she called out.
— Hello Missus…?
— I mean… she was down at a bound toward the door, — I said beat it, screw…
— My vife Missus, could I…
— Just fuck off okay? she pushed the door hard and came back, paused against 24-One Pint Mazola New Improved to raise a foot behind and look back down at it — I mean now look at my feet, she came on to the sofa to cross ankle on knee, looking.
— Yes I… he cleared his throat, looking.
— Like man this isn’t dirt it’s like just black… and her knees came up and met with a pull at the blanket, Forest Industries to the floor and her face to the crevice where back joined seat, silent until — listen…! Her head came up without turning, — like I hear somebody talking, listen…
— information on adopting a foster child, call the special dial a child number at Plaza five…
— No that’s just, there’s a radio somewhere over under all those books, I can’t find it to turn it off and…
She came up sharp on an elbow. — Like you’re staying up?
— Well yes I, as long as I can work on…
— Because like watch that sink in there man… her head went back down, — I mean if that happens again we might both wake up drownded and nobody would ever know it okay?
— Yes o, okay… and he drew a hand over his face and went back to the page, another, cleared his throat muffled.
— Bast?
He started. — Yes I, I…
— I mean like can you move that light? she said into the crevice — so it’s not like shining right on me?
Once, twice nearing the bottom of a page he looked back to see a whole bar missing, stopped a hand raised to crumple it and stared at the slow rise and fall on the sofa, standing to slide a foot silently toward the kitchen and past the rush of water over the bank of paper to Appletons’ to stare under the shade into darkness and as silently back, standing over the sofa licking his own lip against a mucous whisper in the crevice bending, once as though to loosen his belt and then as abruptly standing away to blow off a clean scored sheet back under the punctured shade of the lamp, pausing as though to listen, shreds of sound escaping sporadic partings of his lips and he was up, mounting the Musical Couriers, pulling their gap wider with his ear to it.
— just heard the first movement of Anton Dvořák’s sev…
He tried to jam the volumes spine to fore edge back together and half lay up there for a moment, to come down blowing at the front of his shirt, looking up abruptly as though fearful to find that sofa empty of its sullen heave as he blew off a fresh sheet under the punctured shade, itself chilled and finally cast into shadow by light separating the slats of the blind that caught him head rested motionless against 24–7 Oz Pkgs Flavored Loops where abruptly he coughed, started, came slowly to his feet to where, now, elbow thrust against the confines of the blanket, a white button had given way.
— Oh wow…
— Oh good, good morning, he caught breath from it, standing.
— I mean it’s like camping out at Niagara Falls… no effort but in turning on her back to draw the shirt over that red brown diffusion all spread out like on the white mound that quickly gone from sight, — I mean listen…
— Did, did you sleep well, enough?
— Are you kidding? I mean… knees fallen wide under the blanket a hand plunged down there, — something’s been sticking me like, I mean like one of your fucking pencils… she came up with a square of glass, — like wow…
— Oh I’m sorry it’s just, it’s just my…
— Like man quit being sorry, it’s your picture of your dick dick… and her knees came down in a bounce. It was the first time she’d laughed. — Like is there more grape drink?
— Oh, oh yes wait…
— I mean look at my feet… she reached up for the cup, — like I mean that’s a bathtub in there under all that stuff isn’t it?
— Yes I think so but, we’d have to move all the…
— So like move it… Knee followed knee from a fling of the blanket, — like let me get… she had a foot up to the porcelained edge, — get up here and, wait give me your shoulder…
— I don’t know where we… her weight came on him, — where we can put it… a shirttail brushed his face, hung there, he caught breath and blew gently.
— No come on, like over in that corner there’s still room up to the ceiling, she turned abruptly, shirt drawn up in her reach for 12–2 lb 10 oz Round Pkgs QUICK QUAKER — like I mean what’s in all these, books?
— I… I don’t know, he reached up for it.
— Like I mean… down came 24–12 Oz Btls Fragile! — like I never saw anything so heavy…
— Yes they… he said getting breath between trips, — they… they are… finally, — is that the last one…?
— Yes but… I mean like I never… it came down with a crash. — Like what’s in them!
— Oh these are, these are film cans cans of film, he pursued one rolled toward the sink — I’ll, I’ll just stack them here…
— Man I, I don’t believe it… she was down knees and one elbow on half the tub’s porcelained cover lifting the other half. — I mean I don’t believe it man.
— But what, what’s…
— Like paper bags. Like I mean the whole fucking bathtub is full of these paper grocery bags.
— Well I, I guess they can go over there with the…
— I mean are you kidding? she came up glistening, rivulets coursing toward the undone button — like I mean you’re really going to save them?
— Yes well I, I mean none of this is really mine to throw away and someone might, Mister Grynszpan might want…
— Okay but like just don’t explain it okay? I mean here, she came up with an armload and then off to the floor — and here… feet planted apart bent over the side of the tub, — here…
— I’ll just, just squeeze them over by… he cleared his throat stooping close to pick them up two, three at a time, eyes on a trickle gaining momentum, — over there…
— There, she stood, — like I mean now I can’t turn the…
— Oh here wait… the five or six bags dropped, — it’s, it’s probably just, there.
— Like you think I’m getting in that? Man I’d come out looking like some rusty nail I mean…
— No, no if you let it run, he was down embracing an armload of paper bags.
— Till like when, I mean I’m supposed to stand here cooling my ass like till Christmas?
— No it shouldn’t take… he was forcing bags behind the Morning Telegraphs, back for the last of them — it shouldn’t take that long no, he said jamming them down with his foot, getting his shirt off coming back to the sink where he tilted the cookie tin top, reached down the razor and held the cracked yellow soap bar in the dwindled torrent.
— Like you’re going someplace? she said from the edge of the tub, looked in it and leaned in to press down the plug, — finally…
— Yes I, I have a business appointment with a Mister, Mister something, he drew blood — is that towel any, that old shirt I mean, he came after it past her, back blotting red.