The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [92]
Miss Frost's hair has its pleasures and a light green smell. A down on the back of her neck. A slim neck. I could easily choke her to death. She looks broader from the back. From the front there are those two distractions. Distance grows shorter with familiarity. I'm acquainted with the facts. Good pair of shoulders built for work. Been a little dream boat of mine that if Marion drowned on the mail boat, Miss Frost would live with me and would go to work in the garden out back. Dig it all up and lace it liberally with lime and phosphates with mounds of kelp mixed with ould bones and guts laced with dead leaves all of it rotting graciously making a nice gooey compost Visions of Miss Frost laying down the seed. Especially the spuds. Some think it a dumb vegetable. Not me. Like the lion, king of them all. I would have helped Lilly sow the potatoes although I don't like to use my hands too much. Pour on the rot now. And a little chicken dropping will do no harm. Why does food make so much money in my dreams?
"Lilly, why did you want me to do it this way?"
"O Mr. Dangerfield, it's so much less of a sin."
And
Fun
Too.
23
He was dreaming.
Choosing the blue socks and then a pair of red ones. They were made of this material nylon. Wear forever. And stand up by themselves and as they say, walk away. I'm in these narrow streets and into one shop and out of another. Here is a woman who is middle aged and plump. Flump, ripe plum. Standing behind the counter telling me she loved foreigners. And I'm filling my bag with millions of socks. And can't get them out of the shop. And they call a waste truck to take them all away. Hear a sound which puts the shudder of fear through me. I think of a rat.
His back was stiff. He stood up. His eyes tight with sleep. They don't ever let you sleep enough. And my body is so cold.
Miss Frost turned over. He went to her and kissed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.
"Don't touch me."
"What?"
"Don't kiss me."
"For Christ's sake, what's the matter? Are you drunk? God damn it."
"O don't carry on. You walk out of here and leave the scourge of the tongue on me."
"Now, what is it ? Lilly, I say."
"You're well away."
"God damn it, what's the matter?"
"You've no worry. Off on the boat. I can't help it. They know."
"Who knows?"
"They'll be talking."
"If you're eating. Don't worry about the talk."
"That's easy"
"Now, now, let me get you a little something. Can I fry you a sausage? It's the meat, me Lill, forget ould talk, and tongues"
''Mrs, Dangerfield will have me in the courts"
"She won't have you anywhere. Do you want a sausage?"
"She will And they'll fire me"
"Just a second, Lilly me ould love—"
"Stop"
"I'm going to brush me teeth"
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph"
"Never mind the Jesus and the Mary and Joseph. Put plea to B.O.P. Blessed Oliver Plunket My patron. Have an in with him"
"You've had your-way with me. I have to stay behind"
"Not at all Come to London."
"That's a wild idea."
"Have to brush my teeth. Me teeth will be coming out of me—"
"Don't."
Sebastian scurried in his ragged underwear to the cold bathroom floor. Put his hand over the melted soap. It squeezed through his fingers.
"God's teeth."
Bristle brush best. Nylon wears the white stuff away until there are just stumps. Sebastian turned the tap and put his joined hands under the blisteringly cold water. Put a little touch of Miss Frost's Mum in the pits. With one of these rusty razors I'll cut the hair off my numb jaw. And put my brown corduroy trousers on for the rough traveling that may be in it and the unpredictable fly. For the honey drenched mercy of Jesus, prevent that Never again because I couldn't bear it. What's got into Miss Frost? Me. Yes, of course. She's turning treacherous. No telling. Liable to foul the rudder of the ship. Can't trust her if she's feeling like that. Might spill the beans. Boston baked. Must keep all beans in my own little pot
Sebastian went back into Miss Frost's bedroom. Went to the dresser and picked up her tiny wrist watch, reading the time. Perhaps it would get three pounds at my broker. Mustn't. Not playing the game. Although it's a little hard to know who's on whose side.