sk.everythingseventual-第61部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


k；　I　was　totally　possessed　by　it。　For　me　what　makes　it　go　isn't　the　crazy　ma？tre　d'　but　the　spooky　relationship　between　the　divorcing　couple。　In　their　own　way；　they're　crazier　than　he　is。　By　far。
　　
　　
　　One　day　I　came　home　from　the　brokerage　house　where　I　worked　and　found　a　letter…more　of　a　note；　actually…from　my　wife　on　the　dining　room　table。　It　said　she　was　leaving　me；　that　she　was　pursuing　a　divorce；　that　I　would　hear　from　her　lawyer。　I　sat　on　the　chair　at　the　kitchen　end　of　the　table；　reading　this　munication　over　and　over　again；　not　able　to　believe　it。　After　awhile　I　got　up；　went　into　the　bedroom；　and　looked　in　the　closet。　All　her　clothes　were　gone　except　for　one　pair　of　sweatpants　and　a　joke　sweatshirt　someone　had　given　her；　with　the　words　RICH　BLONDE　printed　on　the　front　in　spangly　stuff。
　　I　went　back　to　the　dining　room　table　（which　was　actually　at　one　end　of　the　living　room；　it　was　only　a　four…room　apartment）　and　read　the　six　sentences　over　again。　It　was　the　same；　but　looking　into　the　half…empty　bedroom　closet　had　started　me　on　the　way　to　believing　what　it　said。　It　was　a　chilly　piece　of　work；　that　note。　There　was　no　'Love'　or　'Good　luck'　or　even　'Best'　at　the　bottom　of　it。　'Take　care　of　yourself　'　was　as　warm　as　it　got。　Just　below　that　she　had　scratched　her　name；　Diane。
　　I　walked　into　the　kitchen；　poured　myself　a　glass　of　orange　juice；　then　knocked　it　onto　the　floor　when　I　tried　to　pick　it　up。　The　juice　sprayed　onto　the　lower　cabinets　and　the　glass　broke。　I　knew　I　would　cut　myself　if　I　tried　to　pick　up　the　glass…my　hands　were　shaking…but　I　picked　it　up　anyway；　and　I　cut　myself。　Two　places；　neither　deep。　I　kept　thinking　that　it　was　a　joke；　then　realizing　it　wasn't。　Diane　wasn't　much　of　a　joker。　But　the　thing　was；　I　didn't　see　it　ing。　I　didn't　have　a　clue。　I　didn't　know　if　that　made　me　stupid　or　insensitive。　As　the　days　passed　and　I　thought　about　the　last　six　or　eight　months　of　our　two…year　marriage；　I　realized　I　had　been　both。
　　That　night　I　called　her　folks　in　Pound　Ridge　and　asked　if　Diane　was　there。　'She　is；　and　she　doesn't　want　to　talk　to　you；'　her　mother　said。　'Don't　call　back。'　The　phone　went　dead　in　my　ear。
　　
　　Two　days　later　I　got　a　call　at　work　from　Diane's　lawyer；　who　introduced　himself　as　William　Humboldt；　and；　after　ascertaining　that　he　was　indeed　speaking　to　Steven　Davis；　began　calling　me　Steve。　I　suppose　that's　a　little　hard　to　believe；　but　it's　what　happened。　Lawyers　are　so　bizarre。
　　Humboldt　told　me　I　would　be　receiving　'preliminary　paperwork'　early　the　following　week；　and　suggested　I　prepare　'an　account　overview　prefatory　to　dissolving　your　domestic　corporation。'　He　also　advised　me　not　to　make　any　'sudden　fiduciary　movements'　and　suggested　that　I　keep　all　receipts　for　items　purchased；　even　the　smallest；　during　this　'financially　difficult　passage。'　Last　of　all；　he　suggested　that　I　find　myself　a　lawyer。
　　'Listen　a　minute；　would　you？'　I　asked。　I　was　sitting　at　my　desk　with　my　head　down　and　my　left　hand　curled　around　my　forehead。　My　eyes　were　shut　so　I　wouldn't　have　to　look　into　the　bright　gray　socket　of　my　puter　screen。　I'd　been　crying　a　lot；　and　my　eyes　felt　like　they　were　full　of　sand。
　　'Of　course；'　he　said。　'Happy　to　listen；　Steve。'
　　'I've　got　two　things　for　you。　First；　you　mean　'preparatory　to　ending　your　marriage；'　not　'prefatory　to　dissolving　your　domestic　corporation'　and　if　Diane　thinks　I'm　going　to　try　and　cheat　her　out　of　what's　hers；　she's　wrong。'
　　'Yes；'　Humboldt　said；　not　indicating　agreement　but　that　he　understood　my　point。
　　'Second；　you're　her　lawyer；　not　mine。　I　find　you　calling　me　by　my　first　name　patronizing　and　insensitive。　Do　it　again　on　the　phone　and　I'll　hang　up　on　you。　Do　it　to　my　face　and　I'll　probably　try　to　punch　your　lights　out。'
　　'Steve　。　。　。　Mr。　Davis　。　。　。　I　hardly　think…'
　　I　hung　up　on　him。　It　was　the　first　thing　I'd　done　that　gave　me　any　pleasure　since　finding　that　note　on　the　dining　room　table；　with　her　three　apartment　keys　on　top　of　it　to　hold　it　down。
　　
　　That　afternoon　I　talked　to　a　friend　in　the　legal　department；　and　he　remended　a　friend　of　his　who　did　divorce　work。　The　divorce　lawyer　was　John　Ring；　and　I　made　an　appointment　with　him　for　the　following　day。　I　went　home　from　the　office　as　late　as　I　could；　walked　back　and　forth　through　the　apartment　for　awhile；　decided　to　go　out　to　a　movie；　couldn't　find　anything　I　wanted　to　see；　tried　the　television；　couldn't　find　anything　there　to　look　at；　either；　and　did　some　more　walking。　And　at　some　point　I　found　myself　in　the　bedroom；　standing　in　front　of　an　open　window　fourteen　floors　above　the　street；　and　chucking　out　all　my　cigarettes；　even　the　stale　old　pack　of　Viceroys　from　the　very　back　of　my　top　desk　drawer；　a　pack　that　had　probably　been　there　for　ten　years　or　more…since　before　I　had　any　idea　there　was　such　a　creature　as　Diane　Coslaw　in　the　world；　in　other　words。
　　Although　I'd　been　smoking　between　twenty　and　forty　cigarettes　a　day　for　twenty　years；　I　don't　remember　any　sudden　decision　to　quit；　nor　any　dissenting　interior　opinions…not　even　a　mental　suggestion　that　maybe　two　days　after　your　wife　walks　out　is　not　the　optimum　time　to　quit　smoking。　I　just　stuffed　the　full　carton；　the　half　carton；　and　the　two　or　three　half…used　packs　I　found　lying　around　out　the　window　and　into　the　dark。　Then　I　shut　the　window　（it　never　once　occurred　to　me　that　it　might　have　been　more　efficient　to　throw　the　user　out　instead　of　the　product；　it　was　never　that　kind　of　situation）；　lay　down　on　my　bed；　and　closed　my　eyes。　As　I　drifted　off；　it　occurred　to　me　that　tomorrow　was　probably　going　to　be　one　of　the　worst　days　of　my　life。　It　further　occurred　to　me　that　I　would　probably　be　smoking　again　by　noon。　I　was　right　about　the　first　thing；　wrong　about　the　second。
　　
　　The　next　ten　days…the　time　during　which　I　was　going　through　the　worst　of　the　physical　withdrawal　from　nicotine…were　difficult　and　often　unpleasant；　but　perhaps　not　as　bad　as　I　had　thought　they　would　be。　And　although　I　was　on　the　verge　of　smoking　dozens…no；　hundreds…of　times；　I　never　did。　There　were　moments　when　I　thought　I　would　go　insane　if　I　didn't　have　a　cigarette；　and　when　I　passed　people　on　the　street　who　were　smoking　I　felt　like　screaming　Give　that　to　me；　motherfucker；　that's　mine！　at　them；　but　I　didn't。
　　For　me；　the　worst　times　were　late　at　night。　I　think　（but　I'm　not　sure；　all　my　thought　processes　from　around　the　time　Diane　left　are　very　blurry　in　my　mind）　I　had　an　idea　that　I　would　sleep　better　if　I　quit；　but　I　didn't。　I　lay　awake　some　mornings　until　three；　hands　laced　together　under　my　pillow；　looking　up　at　the　ceiling；　listening　to　sirens　and　to　the　rumble　of　trucks　headed　downtown。　At　those　times　I　would　think　about　the　twenty…four…hour　Korean　market　almost　directly　across　the　street　from　my　building。　I　would　think　about　the　white　fluorescent　light　inside；　so　bright　it　was　almost　like　a　Kübler…Ross　near…death　experience；　and　how　it　spilled　out　onto　the　sidewalk　between　the　displays　which；　in　another　hour；　two　young　Korean　men　in　white　paper　hats　would　begin　to　fill　with　fruit。　I　would　think　about　the　older　man　behind　the　counter；　also　Korean；　also　in　a　paper　hat；　and　the　formidable　racks　of　cigarettes　behind　him；　as　big　as　the　stone　tablets　Charlton　Heston　brought　down　from　Mount　Sinai　in　The　Ten　mandments。　I　would　think　about　getting　up；　dressing；　going　over　there；　getting　a　pack　of　cigarettes　（or　maybe　nine　or　ten　of　them）；　and　sitting　by　the　window；　smoking　one　Marlboro　after　another　as　the　sky　lightened　to　the　east　and　the　sun　came　up。　I　never　did；　but　on　many　early　mornings　I　went　to　sleep　counting　cigarette　brands　instead　of　sheep：　Winston　。　。　。　Winston　100s　。　。　。　Virginia　Slims　。　。　。　Doral　。　。　。　Merit　。　。　。　Merit　100s　。　。　。　Camels　。　。　。　Camel　Filters　。　。　。　Camel　Lights。
　　Later…around　the　time　I　was　starting　to　see　the　last　three　or　four　months　of　our　marriage　in　a　clearer　light；　as　a　matter　of　fact…I　began　to　understand　that　my　decision　to　quit　smoking　when　I　did　was　perhaps　not　so　unconsidered　as　it　at　first　seemed；　and　a　very　long　way　from　ill…considered。　I'm　not　a　brilliant　man；　not　a　brave　one；　either；　but　that　decision　might　have　been　both。　It's　certainly　possible；　sometimes　we　rise　above　ourselves。　In　any　case；　it　gave　my　mind　something　concrete　to　pitch　upon　in　the　days　after　Diane　left；　it　gave　my　misery　a　vocabulary　it　would　not　otherwise　have　had。
　　Of　course　I　have　speculated　that　quitting　when　I　did　may　have　played　a　part　in　what　happened　at　the　Gotham　Café　that　day；　and　I'm　sure　there's　some　truth　to　that。　But　who　can　foresee　such　things？　None　of　us　can　predict　the　final　outes　of　our　actions；　and　few　of　us　even　try；　most　of　us　just　do　what　we　do　to　prolong　a　moment's　pleasure　or　to　stop　the　pain。　And　even　when　we　act　for　the　noblest　reasons；　the　last　link　of　the　chain　all　too　often　drips　with　someone's　blood。
　　
　　Humboldt　called　me　again　two　weeks　after　the　evening　when　I'd　bombed　West　Eighty…third　Street　with　my　cigarettes；　and　this　time　he　stuck　with　Mr。　Davis　as　a　form　of　address。　He　thanked　me　for　the　copies　of　various　documents　forwarded　him　through　Mr。　Ring　and　said　that　the　time　had　e　for　'all　four　of　us'　to　sit　down　to　lunch。　All　four　of　us　meant　Diane。　I　hadn't　seen　her　since　the　morning　of　the　day　she'd　left；　and　even　then　I　hadn't　really　seen　her；　she'd　been　sleeping　with　her　face　buried　in　her　pillow。　I　hadn't　even　talked　to　her。　My　heart　speeded　up　in　my　chest；　and　I　could　feel　a　pulse　tapping　away　in　the　wrist　of　the　hand　holding　the　telephone。
　　'There　are　a　number　of　details　to　be　worked　out；　and　a　number　of　pertinent　arrangements　to　be　discussed；　and　this　seems　to　be　the　time　to　put　that　process　in　work；'　Humboldt　said。　He　chuckled　fatly　in　my　ear；　like　a　repulsive　adult　giving　a　child　some　minor　treat。　'It's　always　best　to　let　some　time　pass　before　bringing　the　principals　together；　a　little　cooling…off　period；　but　in　my　judgement　a　face…to…face　meeting　at　this　time　would　facilitate…'
　　'Let　me　get　this　straight；'　I　said。　'You're　talking　about…'
　　'Lunch；'　he　said。　'The　day　after　tomorrow？　Can　you　clear　that　on　your　schedule？'　Of　course　you　can；　his　voice　said。　Just　to　see　her　again　。　。　。　to　experience　the　slightest　touch　of　her　hand。　Eh；　Steve？
　　'I　don't