Fall and Rise by Stephen Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

being silly. A bore. I can tell when I’m being a bore. Been a bore before for sure and a boor to boot. A boor-bore or bore-boor. You see? Still a bore but not necessarily a boor-bore or one to boot. Too much to eat, that’s the problem, and possibly too much wine rushing too suddenly to my head or wherever wine rushes to, and green, for whoever heard of green wine even on Saint Paddy’s Day? Beer, sure, but—I should go.”
    â€œWhy? Calm down. Let’s talk.”
    â€œI’m calm. And thanks. That’s very nice.”
    â€œWhy’s it so nice? If we’re here for anything on this gosh-darn globe, which is just what Jane and I were having it out about before—”
    â€œTime out,” a man says to us, holding his hands up to make a T. “This is a joke.”
    â€œWe know,” Jane says.
    â€œGood, you know, you love jokes. But this one is not intentionally meant to offend any ethnic or national group and any similarity to such is purely coincidental. The Polish army purchased ten thousand dilapidated bathtubs from an Italian scrapman—”
    â€œYou told us it.”
    â€œHow they refurbished the tubs and used them as tanks to invade Russia?”
    â€œAnd I told you it wasn’t a very appropriate joke for this party and as far as jokes go, not at all droll.”
    â€œPlay ball,” he says, dropping his hands and walking away.
    â€œWho let that guy in?” Phil says.
    â€œI kind of liked it,” I say. “Not the joke so much but the ‘Time in, play ball.’ Takes a certain amount of guts and it’s something I might do—the preambular apology.”
    â€œIt takes stupidity, not guts. I think he’s an idiot. You know Milikin?”
    â€œSeen his illustrations all over the place but never met him.”
    â€œGenius, man, genius, and where I come from you’d get strung up for using that word for his work. I wanted to find someone to introduce us. Diana’s busy.”
    â€œJust go over to him, say ‘Hello, how’s by you, what’s new, the family, and I wanted to meet you.’ He’ll like the attention, especially from an artist.”
    â€œThat’s what I told him,” Jane says. “I’m in no rush to meet him myself, although I do admire the regard and prices he gets. I’ll speak to him of course, but first I want Phil to introduce himself. Do it, Phil. Everyone has to humble himself to someone at times, and he has thirty years on you, so you have nothing to feel competitive about.”
    â€œIt’s not that. There are people talking to him.”
    â€œYou want a few more drinks first? Because you know you’re going to go over before the night’s over. But then you’ll be too sloshed to make any sense to him and for him to appreciate your going over to want to do anything to help push your work.”
    â€œYou know that’s not why I want to talk to him.”
    â€œHey baby, this is the itsy old art lady you sleep with, so don’t be giving me that shit.” “Then speak like a lady, act like a lady,” and he gives more reasons why he can’t, shouldn’t, won’t introduce himself to Milikin and when she tells him to stop being a child and particularly with a voice so loud the whole world can hear, he says much lower that he’s not a child which she should know by now if she sleeps with him as she says and if she hasn’t been then he’s been having one hell of a ball with someone else the last ten years. But all kidding aside. If she has anything like that to say to him, say it at home. Then I see Helene. Of course I didn’t know her name at the time. Looking at me when I first looked at her. I’d lifted my head. First I turned my head away from Jane and Phil while they caviled about what each had just said, looked around the room, saw the woman from the couch, man with the pipe, Alan making a point,