yourself; then they say if you have to ask
questions that means you've got the problem. Bang! Gotcha!"
"I'll admit anything," Duke said.
"For twenty-eight days, I'll admit I'm a Chinaman if they want."
A voice behind them said, "An idiot, yes,
but a Chinaman . . . that's a reach."
It was Lewis, and with him was Hector, and
without being invited they unloaded their plates on the table.
Lewis said, "Hector told me to tell you
we'd only join you if you promise not to make a pass at us."
"Like hell!" Hector protested. He
did not appreciate being teased. "I never said that."
Duke waited until they had settled, and then
he said, "Lewis, you can worry about earthquakes, you can worry about
terrorists, you can worry about being buggered by guys from the planet Mercury,
but me you do not have to worry about."
Lewis smiled. "I'll count my
blessings."
Preston had
his fork poised over his stew when he noticed that Hector was muttering some
Spanish words and had his eyes closed and his hands folded before him. He put
his fork down.
Hector finished his prayer and pulled a
medallion from under his T-shirt and kissed it. "Amen," he said. ‘Fuckin'
starvin' . . ." He grabbed a slab of white bread and scooped a glutinous
brown mash of beans and wiener sections onto it and folded it over and packed
it into his mouth.
Preston took a couple of bites of stew. He looked at Lewis. "You said . .
."He hesitated. "Is it all right to I talk about what went on
in—?"
"Of course!" Lewis laughed.
"Nobody has any secrets here. Nobody can. I've already heard about
Natasha's Tennessee Williams act, and that Mr. Wonderful here"—he pointed
at Duke with his fork—"tried to start an orgy."
"Hey-" I Preston cut Duke off.
"Lewis, you said, before she stopped you, you said you have the gift of
alcoholism."
"Indeed I did," Lewis said. "I
like to think of it as a gift, like Mozart's, only malignant. Not everybody has
it, and having the gift alone isn't enough. To be a real alcoholic you have to
practice. The trouble is, they insist it's a disease, and they don't welcome
theories that muddy the waters."
Hector spoke through a shoal of franks and
beans. "Bein' a junkie ain't special. Anybody can do it."
"I couldn't," Lewis said. "I
tried heroin once. It made me deathly ill." He turned to Preston . "I don't bother to fight the powers
that be. I just clutch at every straw of dignity in life that I can."
"Why are you limping?" Marcia asked
Dan Farina as they walked to the dining hall. As always, he tended to walk
closer to her than was smart; as always, she edged sideways and kept a full
yard of daylight between them.
Dan told her he had been crushed by half a ton
of drunks. **But it was great! I finally got Natasha in touch with her anger.
After four weeks of holding out on me, I think today she killed all her
husbands and her mother and her sister who's always resented her."
“How do you know she wasn't acting?"
"Just to please me? She doesn't give a
hoot about me. She's the most perfectly self-absorbed person I've ever seen. I
don't think anybody else exists in her world, except as a foil for her. You
know: 'Enough about me. Tell me what you thought of my performance.' There's a
word for it."
"Solipsism."
"Solipsism. Right."
"But that's what I mean. You have power
over her. If you don't give the okay, she doesn't leave here. Or at least
doesn't get her
questions that means you've got the problem. Bang! Gotcha!"
"I'll admit anything," Duke said.
"For twenty-eight days, I'll admit I'm a Chinaman if they want."
A voice behind them said, "An idiot, yes,
but a Chinaman . . . that's a reach."
It was Lewis, and with him was Hector, and
without being invited they unloaded their plates on the table.
Lewis said, "Hector told me to tell you
we'd only join you if you promise not to make a pass at us."
"Like hell!" Hector protested. He
did not appreciate being teased. "I never said that."
Duke waited until they had settled, and then
he said, "Lewis, you can worry about earthquakes, you can worry about
terrorists, you can worry about being buggered by guys from the planet Mercury,
but me you do not have to worry about."
Lewis smiled. "I'll count my
blessings."
Preston had
his fork poised over his stew when he noticed that Hector was muttering some
Spanish words and had his eyes closed and his hands folded before him. He put
his fork down.
Hector finished his prayer and pulled a
medallion from under his T-shirt and kissed it. "Amen," he said. ‘Fuckin'
starvin' . . ." He grabbed a slab of white bread and scooped a glutinous
brown mash of beans and wiener sections onto it and folded it over and packed
it into his mouth.
Preston took a couple of bites of stew. He looked at Lewis. "You said . .
."He hesitated. "Is it all right to I talk about what went on
in—?"
"Of course!" Lewis laughed.
"Nobody has any secrets here. Nobody can. I've already heard about
Natasha's Tennessee Williams act, and that Mr. Wonderful here"—he pointed
at Duke with his fork—"tried to start an orgy."
"Hey-" I Preston cut Duke off.
"Lewis, you said, before she stopped you, you said you have the gift of
alcoholism."
"Indeed I did," Lewis said. "I
like to think of it as a gift, like Mozart's, only malignant. Not everybody has
it, and having the gift alone isn't enough. To be a real alcoholic you have to
practice. The trouble is, they insist it's a disease, and they don't welcome
theories that muddy the waters."
Hector spoke through a shoal of franks and
beans. "Bein' a junkie ain't special. Anybody can do it."
"I couldn't," Lewis said. "I
tried heroin once. It made me deathly ill." He turned to Preston . "I don't bother to fight the powers
that be. I just clutch at every straw of dignity in life that I can."
"Why are you limping?" Marcia asked
Dan Farina as they walked to the dining hall. As always, he tended to walk
closer to her than was smart; as always, she edged sideways and kept a full
yard of daylight between them.
Dan told her he had been crushed by half a ton
of drunks. **But it was great! I finally got Natasha in touch with her anger.
After four weeks of holding out on me, I think today she killed all her
husbands and her mother and her sister who's always resented her."
“How do you know she wasn't acting?"
"Just to please me? She doesn't give a
hoot about me. She's the most perfectly self-absorbed person I've ever seen. I
don't think anybody else exists in her world, except as a foil for her. You
know: 'Enough about me. Tell me what you thought of my performance.' There's a
word for it."
"Solipsism."
"Solipsism. Right."
"But that's what I mean. You have power
over her. If you don't give the okay, she doesn't leave here. Or at least
doesn't get her
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