Bathing the Lion by Jonathan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page B

help you because you’ve got to be very clever and think straight. You can’t make any mistakes today.”
    Kaspar put his hand on top of his head as if to keep it from blowing off. “What the hell are you talking about? Who is ‘Muba’? What do you want from me?” He was angry and beginning to be afraid.
    He was forty-eight years old, thirty-one pounds overweight. Seven cashmere sports jackets hung in his closet at home. There were five different kinds of mustard in his refrigerator. He’d had two serious relationships in his life. Both women (smart and accomplished—real catches) had grown terminally frustrated with him and left in similar heartbroken huffs. He succeeded in small matters with almost no effort at all because of his great natural charm and the not-so-common ability to give something his full attention when it interested him.
    But the few times in his life when the stakes had been high and he was put to the test, he’d always either chickened out or failed. It didn’t bother him though because more often than not, Kaspar Benn was genuinely satisfied with things easy for him to obtain—good food, women who said yes more than they said no, elegant clothes that made him look and feel both more prosperous and attractive than he was.
    Somewhere in our life’s cast of characters most of us know a person like Kaspar. These people are fun to be around but not essential. If we don’t encounter them for months or even years it doesn’t matter. When they show up at a party, we think, oh good, I haven’t seen them for ages. Often it’s difficult to pinpoint when you last did see them or what you talked about. They are effusive in their greetings, entertaining; their many stories make you laugh and gasp—lots of flash and good fun. They’re sort of like Italian variety shows on TV. But just like those shows, you forget about them quickly. Accused by one of his girlfriends of being facile, Kaspar said, “I make no pretense.” She shot back, “No, you make no effort .”
    The little girl Josephine now said to him, “You have to go see Edmonds. You have to find him right now.”
    Kaspar didn’t know what she was talking about. “Edmonds? Who’s Edmonds?”
    “William Edmonds. Find him and talk to him. He’ll help you. He sent me to get you.” She lifted her arm and looked at her yellow wristwatch. “You don’t have any time to waste. Everything happens today. Find him.”
    *   *   *
     
    Edmonds knew she would be there when he turned around but felt in no hurry to see her. Eating from a plastic cup filled with bland butterscotch pudding, he stared out the small window at his snow-covered backyard. He was hoping to see some birds but today there were none.
    “Did you tell him?” he asked, with his back still turned to the girl.
    “Yes.”
    “What did he say?”
    “He was confused.”
    Edmonds sniffed the pudding. “I’ll bet.”
    Josephine pulled her hair. “I did what you told me to do with his phone—I set it on fire.”
    “Good—it always gets people’s attention.”
    “But why make me do it? Why couldn’t I just tell him to come and talk to you?”
    The gray-haired man put down the pudding. “People are like pigs lying in mud—nothing gets them to move except food or danger. I heard Kaspar Benn is a lazy guy. He needs encouragement.”
    “But you could have just asked him to come.” Her voice was defiant, offended.
    “True.” Edmonds turned now and looked at the girl. Her face was solemn and set—she was prepared to argue with him about this. “Thanks for your opinion. Now go away.”
    She vanished.
    *   *   *
     
    Edmonds could not stop blaming himself for the death of his wife, although she’d died of liver cancer and there was nothing he could do about it but hold her hand while she wasted away. Eventually, when his remorse got so bad, he underwent analysis. His doctor said guilt was like a traffic light: A pedestrian comes to a red light. After looking both