Ironweed - William Kennedy [77]
“Where I come from—” Old Shoes began.
“I don’t give a goddamn where you come from.” Francis said.
“Goddamn you, I come from Texas.”
“Name a city, then.”
“Galveston.”
“Behave yourself,” Francis said, “or I’ll knock you down. I’m a tough son of a bitch. Tougher than that bum Finny. Licked twelve men at once.”
“You’re drunk,” Old Shoes said.
“Yeah,” said Francis. “My mind’s goin’.”
“It went there. Rattlesnake got you.”
“Rattlesnake, my ass. Rattlesnake is nothin’.”
“Cottonmouth?”
“Oh, cottonmouth rattler. Yeah. That’s somethin’. Jesus, this is a nice subject. Who wants to talk about snakes? Talk about bums is more like it. A bum is a bum. Helen’s got me on the bum. Son of a bitch, she won’t go home, won’t straighten up.”
“Helen did the hula down in Hon-oh-loo-loo,” Rudy sang.
“Shut your stupid mouth,” Francis said to Rudy.
“People don’t like me,” Rudy said.
“Singin’ there, wavin’ your arms, talkin’ about Helen.”
“I can’t escape myself.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Francis said.
“I tried it before.”
“I know, but you can’t do it, so you might as well live with it.”
“I like to be condemned,” Rudy said.
“No, don’t be condemned,” Francis told him.
“I like to be condemned.”
“Never be condemned.”
“I like to be condemned because I know I done wrong in my life.”
“You never done wrong,” Francis said.
“All you screwballs down there, shut up,” yelled Little Red, sitting up on his cot. Francis instantly stood up and ran down the aisle. He was running when he lunged and grazed Little Red’s lips with his knuckles.
“I’m gonna mess you up,” Francis said.
Little Red rolled with the blow and fell off the cot. Francis ran around the cot and kicked him in the stomach. Little Red groaned and rolled and Francis kicked him in the side. Little Red rolled under Finny’s cot, away from Francis’s feet. Francis followed him and was ready to drive a black laceless oxford deep into his face, but then he stopped. Rudy, Moose, and Old Shoes were all standing up, watching.
“When I knew Francis he was strong as a bull,” Old Shoes said.
“Knocked a house down by myself,” Francis said, walking back to his cot. “Didn’t need no wreckin’ ball.” He picked up the quart of wine and gestured with it. Moose lay back down on his cot and Rudy on his. Old Shoes sat on the cot next to Francis. Little Red licked his bleeding lip and lay quietly on the floor under the cot where Finny was supine and snoring. The faces of all the women Francis had ever known changed with kaleidoscopic swiftness from one to the other to the other on the three female figures in the far corner. The trio sat on straight-backed chairs, witnesses all to the whole fabric of Francis’s life. His mother was crocheting a Home Sweet Home sampler while Katrina measured off a bolt of new cloth and Helen snipped the ragged threads. Then they all became Annie.
“When they throw dirt in my face, nobody can walk up and sell me short, that’s what I worry about,” Francis said. “I’ll suffer in hell, if they ever got such a place, but I still got muscles and blood and I’m gonna live it out. I never saw a bum yet said anything against Francis. They better not, goddamn ‘em. All them sufferin’ bastards, all them poor souls waitin’ for heaven, walkin’ around with the snow flyin’, stayin’ in empty houses, pants fallin’ off ‘em. When I leave this earth I wanna leave it with a blessing to everybody. Francis never hurt nobody.”
“The mockin’birds’ll sing when you die,” Old Shoes said.
“Let ‘em. Let ‘em sing. People tell me: Get off the bum. And I had a chance. I had a good mind but now it’s all flaked out, like a heavin’ line on a canal boat, back and forth, back and forth. You get whipped around so much, everything comes to a standstill, even a nail. You drive it so far and it comes to a stop. Keep hittin’ it and the head’ll break off.”
“That’s a true thing,” Moose said.
“On the Big Rock Candy Mountain,” Rudy sang, “the cops got wooden legs.” He stood up and waved his wine in a gesture imitative of Francis; then he rocked back and forth as he sang, strongly and on key: “The bulldogs all got rubber teeth, and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs. The boxcars all are empty and the sun shines every day. I wanna go where there ain