Had I a Hundred Mouths by William Goyen Read Free Book Online Page A

you have Esther!
    How could anybody know that Esther was—well, I still can’t believe it. She was so gay—such a character, and just the best person in the world, would give you her right arm if you asked for it and with her diamond bracelet on it—that’s Esther! Yet, here she was, going rockers. We thought it was her natural wit. Anyway, her demeanor in public grew to such infamous proportions and resounded to such acclaim that she was the most vaunted guest. Her profanity increased to dazzling proportions. Esther would slap out a nasty word that would splatter all over a place like she’d thrown a messy pie. It was generally against somebody in our bunch—somebody she had apparently been good friends with, and then this—“You-----!” That person would storm out. A phone call the next day got the whole thing aright. People were so forgiving of Esther. Thank goodness, now that I think about it, sober, and see that she was going bonkers. But I don’t know how she got by with it, I swear. Anybody else would have had their heads knocked off, but not Esther. Of course they were all drunk, but even then! But thank goodness, we were all forgiving of her, knowing what we do now.
    The next day on the phone: “Sugar, I don’t remember a word of it. If I said it, forget it. Come for a hair at six.” You’d be there at six. By eight you’d had your head knocked off again. Why was that? Why did we sanction that?
    Oh, Esther! Racing at night through the streets of gold and laughter, drink here, run on there, drink yonder; and suddenly they were telling you it was 4 A.M . Who cared? Heaven could wait! On to somebody’s place. Dawn! and Esther absolutely incandescent. At those times she was like a blazing serpent, flashing and striking. She caused people to surpass themselves beyond their wildest dreams. It was the responses to Esther that held people to her. What you heard yourself say to her was magnificent. What would we have been without her? She made us— marvelous! Why she could have led us to the terrace and told us to jump out and fly, and we’d have flown— somehow . Esther put wings on you! Once I did a whole soft-shoe routine—complete with ride-out—it was at somebody’s penthouse—on an open terrace nineteen flights up—and I’d never soft-shoed in my life, couldn’t again. Because of Esther! She made wonders out of us. Isn’t that weird? Like she had some kind of—you know— power over us.
    Esther, lying there drab in that room at Greenfarm and not herself at all. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d say she was a changeling—that somebody kidnapped Esther and replaced her with a blah stranger. Who wants that nothing person lying there? Another person, that’s all, could be anybody, why that’s an ordinary person lying there, not Esther. Where’s Esther? This calm person lying there is not Esther. As though she existed out of booze. Vodka made Esther! Pour several drinks into this person and out develops who we call Esther! Don’t pour the booze, you get this . I’m beginning to see. A sober view of Esther, you might say. The most boring conversations—Unity pamphlets strewn around. Why Esther doesn’t know Unity from Simplicity—the patterns, I mean. Sweetie, she’s an agnostic . Only two things she cares about are Dior and Majorska, and she’d cut that in half if she could wear a Vodka bottle designed by Dior; just dress in it, my dear. Well, they can have whoever that is. That’s not Esther! “Where’s Esther?” I kept wanting to say. “Who are you?” I kept wanting to say. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” You zombie! Oh, I need a laugh. Some drinks and a laugh. But with Esther .
    Well, the whole thing has rather sobered me up. A week on the wagon, without Esther, during which time I’ve done me some thinking