!Shockhead Ted!

Frank is part owner of this saloon, which is a pretty big name for what it is. You could about fit five of us at the bar, in the dark low room with the tin ceiling and the window grating high above, where you can watch peoples’ shoes go by up on the street. At 7 Friday night I walked in and Ford stuck a cigar in my mouth, Bill stuck a flower in my coatcollar. Frank poured me out a pint glass of what he’ll call champagne, which is the sort of reason people come to Frank’s for. Tom stood with his hand on my back, head-back drinking gin. Tom would give you the clothes off his back but he’s a little nervous, you know, my dad’s nervous, my grandma’s nervous; he flopped from the womb that way. But Frank put the sign to ‘close’ and Tom perked up like anybody. “Take the night off, dear,” Frank told Abby (the little barmaid) and slammed one hand on my shoulder and one on Bill. The wine slopped about. “We gotta celebrate.” So we started there. By the late night we were walking about, you want to call it walking. Frank said we should go to Water Street.  Tom looked guess how, and Clifford, too, go figure. I said, “Yeah, okay.” I had been down there before, plenty, not on my account. Jemima tells fortunes there for money. Nobody could stop Jemima doing nothing but we drag her out sometimes. I do. She’s only little. “We can’t bring him down there, he’s engaged,” said Tom. Frank leaned on him. “What do you mean?”  “There’s girls!” “Ain’t that the point of a burial day?” said Clifford? He got sick at some point. He was too young, he never knew when to quit. Our mother is French and real dramatic, well she’s Canadian, and that’s what she calls a party before you get married. “Is it?” Tom said.  “Well what’ll they do, put a gun to his head?” said Frank. “He don’t have todonothing.” “Yeah,” I said. “It’ll be fine,” said Bill. “If you say so,” said Tom, and grabbed hard on my arm; meaning ‘take my hand precious Lord’ or ‘I’ll be watching, don’t try nothing’ I don’t know. He echoed all around. We were already to the stairs. Water Street is down below the mills, below the falls, all granite slick and green along the river. It’s always rushing loud and kind of wet. The houses were all old red brick, pressed thin beneath the generators, roads. 100,000 spindles. Out we come. I had never been down there at night. It was all lit up. Pianos all out of tune in different ways, girls in white dresses, like little white dresses, like underwear. “Let’s go inthere,” said Clifford. It was one of the places. It had lamplight and scarves of all colors draped out the upstairs windows. “Yeah it’s nice in there, there’s sofas,” said Frank. “Ted?” I nodded. All the whorehouses had names like Gloucester House and Smith’s Tavern and Stonyfield Inn. Butallof them ain’t whorehouses except at night, you know, it ain’t that big a town. Some just have a couple rooms off the side. I didn’t really know that then. There really was sofas. It looked regular in there, sort of expensive. Just like a restaurant or the bottom of some hotel. There was a little sort of a stage and a three-piece band. They looked like ghosts to me, I mean how ghosts are real intent on what they do, and fuzzy like a record. They were singing the song that goes,  sometimes I live in the country sometimes I live in town sometimes I take a great notion to jump into the river and drown I’m sure glad Rose didn’t jump in a river. I’d not have been any help. But anybody can swim, she’d have made out. “You sure are lucky, huh,” said Bill. “Yeah,” I said. “It took me four years to get Goldie to marry me,” he said. “And her dad was a whole nother story.” We had a table in the corner with a kind of purple cushion in the seat, purple drapes around. Frank had pulled a bottle from his boot. “Yeah Rose is an orphan,” I said. “Like I say.” So there we were. The whole House was spinning round me. I was sitting there minding hardly anything at all, with my ankle crossed over my knee. When up pops the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. Between my legs.  I don’t mean like I was dreaming, this was a real girl. Her hair was as red as a sumac almost, her eyes was green as baby pine, her dog tooth was in gold. She come up to sit on my lap. “Hey Captain,” she says to me.  This thing happened where I went blind for a second. When I could see again she was still there, even prettier. Tom looked like a hostage. Frank and Ford and Bill made some sort of anooohbut they didn’t know what to do.  She turned her eyes to mine. Somebody said something funny way over there, people roared laughing far away. Everything looked sort of warm.  “You’re a happy boy, aren’t you,” she said, for I was grinning still, struck stiff. My teeth were chattering together and they were laughing at me, I realized, cause I was shaking so hard, harder the higher she climbed on me.  She crinkled her eyes up, ringed in coal, and run her thumb over my mouth. I sat there a second while she did. She was painted, I saw, that’s why she looked that way. The lamplight turned to rays of sun, from people’s teeth, all shooting out around. Frank looked at me with his eyebrows raised. I shoved that girl off of me quick. I made this snapping sound and went electric from the ground on up.  It feels kind of like sneezing. Kind of. I mean not for the other guy. Sometimes it goes on for some time though. And then you can see it, if it’s dim around. Anyhow people were yelling. My brothers got up. “What’s the big idea?” the girl was saying. She was sitting on the floor, on the carpet and whatever in some ice and spilled drink, wearing hardly anything at all. Each of my brothers talked over each other– “Aw shit–” “Oh my God–” “Oooh-kay–“ Tom and Frank took her under the arms and set her on her feet, brushed her off,  “You coulda said nothanks,” the girl said to me, over Tom and Frank’s backs, who were bent down for a second sort of batting at her clothes like they needed straightening out. Frank was saying, “There’sa good girl, there you go–” “Are you okay? You’re okay–” said Tom. “Forget about him, he’s–he’s crazy,” said Clifford, “Yeah,” said Bill. “He’s such an idiot,” said Clifford. “Is he backwards or something?” she said. She wasn’t shouting anymore. They looked at each other. “Uh–” “No–“ “Yeah, yeah, he’s backwards!” “Look, I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t tell.” They hung their heads. “Oh.” “Uh.” “Jesus,he’ssorry,” “We’resorry.” “Fuck.” “Buy you a drink?” I went outside. I think sometimes I should smoke cigars, so I’ll have something to do when I stand around outside.  But it was just the roar, and the echo, from the river, and me, stamping about. That helps to get rid of it, but it was mostly gone already. Really I felt half-awake, like numb in my hands, that’s what happens after. I tried not to think about what happened. I was just happy I’d seen her. Sometimes you’re happy just parting because you knew someone soever, and that’s how it was, even if I had beat her up a little and I couldn’t ever go in the Gloucester House again, even then. “Say, are you alright?” asked this voice, and I loved it, I swear, that second, as much as I ever loved any sound, ever. I turned and there she was, in a big fur coat and her hair lit up in the doorway. “It’s me,” she said. “From a minute ago.” I smiled at her. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she told me. I wished to God I would blush, look ashamed. “Oh it weren’tthat,” I said. “I mean. It’s just I got this. Condition.” If I could’ve stopped smiling that would have been nice, too. “Oh. Well, don’t worry about it,” she said, and looked sweet. “IwishIhad a condition sometimes.” What the matter with me really is is when I was eight years old they had a Fourth of July parade. They always had a Fourth of July parade. But the time when I was eight years old I couldn’t see. So I climbed a tree and got tangled on a streetcar wire. “I’m sorry,” I told the girl, “For how I pushed you.” She sparkled in her raccoon eyes. Yellowy almost. “That’s okay! I brought somebody for you to meet,” she said. She kind of talked like a boy of twelve, like breaking apart. “You might like her a little better.” “Oh,” I said. “I’m engaged.” I was still smiling. But I didn’t feel so good anymore but I wanted to stay there smiling. She grinned back like a movie marquee. Teeth on teeth on teeth. “Oh I know, captain, they was telling me, Grenadine don’t care. You like birds?” The door was getting far away, sort of, things started dancing in my eyes. “I guess so. Yeah.” “Come here.” She pulled me close and posed my arm and set this great red parrot on it. “This is Grenadine, you can hold her. She likes you! Aw.” She had claws like an eagle. Grenadine did. The girl started petting her. I started petting her. It was so funny on a live bird, she was all feather. “I ain’t backwards,” I guessed I should say. I thought I said. “Really. I’m just right wicked drunk.”  She turned me and the bird so the light was on us. Took out a little brownie camera. “Oh Papa, oh papa, oh papa!” said the parrot. “So I’ll tell you how it works, okay? It’s fifty cents.” For something, she said. I don’t remember. Just the whitest teeth on Earth trying to crowd each other out of this girl’s mouth. And two in gold. After the bird I’m really not sure what happened.