I remember a bosom, the Dead Father said. Might be a better bosom than your own. Might be a worse bosom than your own. Although they are all beautiful, bosoms, all beautiful, each in its own way, foolish to talk of “better” and “worse,” it’s apples and oranges, really.
What bosom is that that you remember?
The lady was a lawyer. Appeared before me in a matter. I was presiding. Case had to do with a homosexual admiral who’d been caught buggering a black gang. A whole black gang. Down there in the engine room ‘midst the steam and grease. Some suggestion of coercion. Some suggestion of abuse of rank. And so on and so on. She was representing the admiral, in her robes. I noticed the robes. There is something very sensual about robes. I was transfixed, couldn’t keep my eyes off her. There is a certain line, bosom under robe, I can’t describe it. Makes one light-headed. She argued very capably, probably the most thoroughly researched brief I’ve ever read. The government’s case on the other hand very sloppily prepared. I found for her. Strictly on the merits. Merits piled on merits. Afterward, a brandy together in my chambers. She said I wasn’t as bad as I’d been painted. I said, Oh yes I was. We had a week together on the island of Ahura. The Bee and the Thistle, as I recall. Incomparable. Taught me a lot of law, she did, and I thought I knew it all. Claudia. Married a sky diver, as I recall. One of those people who fall out of airplanes and drop for thousands and thousands of feet waiting for the umbrella to open. Finally it didn’t. A Wednesday, as I recall. I gave her a judgeship and she has twice been cited by the Bar Association for excellence beyond the believable. That was Claudia.
And the bosom? What has happened to it?
Growing in wisdom and beauty, still beating with the conviction that the world can be made equitable, I would suppose. One of my best appointments, in retrospect.
Fretfulness of Emma. Adjustment of shirt, etc. Pulling up of pants. Nervous play of fingers about the throat.
I am old, said the Dead Father, old, old, old. That is; why you don’t want to show me what is under your shirt.
That’s not it, said Emma. Then she changed her mind.
That is it, she said.
What is wrong with me! the Dead Father shouted. You are making me feel like the Congress of Vienna!
Nonsense, said Emma, taking his hand. You are as good as you ever were. Or almost as good as you ever were.
Then come to bed with me, and I will whisper secrets in your ear. Powerful secrets.
Yes, Emma said, secrets, that’s the second-best part, the secrets. The best part in my opinion is buying the furniture. Picking out the towels. The stainless steel. The rug. The potted plant. The bolster for the bedroom. The art object. The can opener.
Emma begins lachrymation (serious).
The can opener, she said, and the colander.
Why are you weeping? asked the Dead Father.
I was thinking about the salads, she said through her tears. Salad after salad. I am wonderful with salads.
Don’t cry, please.
I am so good with salads, she said.
I am sure you are.
Only virgin imported fresh Italian olive oil. Sliced mushrooms and organic or uninstitutionalized tomatoes, from a little place I know. And fronds, fronds of this and fronds of that. Coke, or snow some people call it, sprinkled on top along with salt, pepper, parsley, prepared mustard —
Come to bed, dear salad-head. Come to bed with me.
No I won’t, said Emma. Pardon me for saying it but you are, you are, you are too old.
The Dead Father fell down on the ground and began chewing the dirt of the road.
Don’t do that, dear friend, said Emma, plucking at his shoulder blades. It doesn’t help.
16
Is everyone ready for the big dance?
How can we have a dance with only two women?
The women will just have to dance twice as hard.
Edmund claims the first dance.
No, that is for the Dead Father.
Happiness of the Dead Father.
The Dead Father and Julie dancing.
Edmund and Emma dancing.
Thomas performing upon the kazoo. Alexander upon the flute. Sam upon the banjo.
The “Immigration Waltz” performed.
Light from the bonfires.
Is that horseman still following us?
Yes, still.
You dance very well.
Yes I do dance very well. You dance pretty well.
Thank you. It’s kind of hard to dance with this leg.
No really I mean it’s very smooth, considering, but to tell the truth I really think this is a terrible dance.
Why?
There’s nobody here.
I’m here.
Yes you but there’s nobody else nobody new.
Do you want somebody new?
I always want somebody new.
What’s so good about somebody new?
He’s new. The newness.
That’s a little insulting to those of us who are not new.
Tuff titty.
Why do you keep looking around?
Looking for somebody new.
Who sent out the invitations?
Who hired the band?
Who laid on the champagne?
Who hung the crepe paper?
Who lit the bonfires?
Wish they’d play something else.
What do you want to hear?
Something new.
Anything new?
Anything new.
How about “Midnight in Moscow”?
That’s not new.
I know but it’s pretty.
Can’t dance to it it’s too slow.
You’re a little picky.
I am a little picky.
What?
I am a little picky. I know that. Tell me something new.
Don’t know anything new.
I know that.
What?
Who are those people over there?
I don’t know they may be the horseman who has been following us or some of his friends. Attracted by the music probably.
No they’re not they’re new. The horseman who has been following us is not new.
They seem sort of dark and furry.
Yes now that I look closely they’re apes.
Yes I see what you mean they do appear to be apes.
One two three four five apes.
Yes they’re tapping their feet to the music.
What’s the tune.
It’s the “Crabapple Stomp.” I always liked that one.
Me too the only thing wrong with it is that it’s not new, do you think they want to dance?
What?
Do you think they want to dance, the apes?
Ask them but maybe they would hold on too tightly.
I’ll take a chance. They’re new.
Maybe they would crush you with their incredibly powerful arms.
That would be new.
Probably they smell terribly.
That would be new too I’m tired of all you sweet-smellers.
What’s that music?
That’s the “Carborundum Waltz.”
I was always fond of waltzes. I remember —
Look she’s not scared of the apes she’s asked one to dance.
He dances pretty well, for an ape.
Whose idea was having this dance in the first place?
It was the Dance Committee.
Well it breaks the monotony I suppose.
Yes I suppose it does that, in a sense.
I think some are male and some female the smaller ones are female, probably.
Yes they’re slightly more graceful than the males.
I’m going to dance with one.
Leave me here in the middle of the floor?
It will be new.
Yes it will be new but I think it’s slightly insulting to be dancing with a person and then leave that person alone in the middle of the floor and go off and dance with an ape.
You can have the dance after this one. I’ll write your name on my dance card.