Edisto - Padgett Powell by Padgett Powell Page B

giggling. Why did I remember that, sitting in the Grand working
on my second cold one? My first true second beer in my life.
    Daddy came in.
    "Mist’Iv," people said. "Mist’Iv!"
I guess they knew him from their troubles. Daddy took their cases on
time, I thought. Or they just knew he was the Duchess’s old man.
But anyway, he came in and had Jake’s attention before he got to
the bar and handed Jake a bottle in a sack.
    "Do you have soda?"
    "Got Coke soda," Jake said.
    "Water then, Jacob."
    Jacob. I had the feeling he’d been there before, or
knew him somehow, which was a hard sensation to accept, like
believing that sexy things are not your own private province of
knowledge, that your parents must know too. Here I thought Jake and
the Grand were all mine, and Daddy’s calling Jake Jacob, like they
go back years into a formal history together.
    "Hi. Sorry if I’m in trouble," I said to
cut him off, in case I was. "You know Jake?"
    Jake handed up a jigger of whiskey and a jelly glass
with tap water in it. Daddy nodded down. Jake nodded up.
    "His father." Daddy was about titrated out.
His lips were under control except they sort of looked like he’d
been to the dentist. His eyes were mullety."This place is just a
juke joint now, son. In my day, it was the biggest
whorehouse-casino-bootleg operation we knew of. Do you know what a
whorehouse is?"
    "Wel1, I know what one is . I don’t know
what you do , though."
    He chased the jigger.
    "Me either." He laughed.
    We sat there a while.
    I had a bunch of questions about the joint before,
under Jake’s daddy, but they seemed like too much effort. I could
just put it together myself, with a hint or two.
    "Daddy, was it what they call a class
operation?"
    "What?"
    "Jake’s joint in the good old days."
    "Class operation is right!" He got excited.
"That’s exactly what it was. Everything was clear. They had
the fun and we had the money. Buyers, sellers."
    "Refined vice?" I said.
    "What?"
    "Like Chicago and things. Was it refined vice
with a code of manners—"
    “ Son, do you believe in God?"
    "What?"
    "Do you believe in God?"
    "Yeah, I guess."
    "Well, okay. I guess it was refined vice."
    I motioned to Jake and got my first true third cold
one in my life. Daddy had said something I couldn’t figure out.
Today I sort of know. And I sort of don’t.
    Anyway, we left together and drove home to the
Cabana. And he stayed there that night. I didn’t need any air ducts
to know that.
    "God, Iv," I heard come from their room.
    "God what?"
    "Chemistry."
    "Chemistry what?"
    "Chemistry never changes?
    And then a set of rock groans no oracle ever
bettered. And I’m drunk, which probably made it worse. And if
chemistry never changes, why’d they split up? I guess somebody
could wonder that, but it’s probably only me, drunk. Everyone who
knows them says they split up because the Doctor’s a bitch, if they
are on his side, and because the Progenitor’s an asshole, if
they’re on hers, and some people say both. That leaves me to
wonder. I don’t. I know. The Doctor is a Democrat and the
Progenitor is a Republican. I don’t mean registered voters now, I
mean their whole attitude. They both voted for Nixon, so it’s not
that simple. They both vote for Nixon but she thinks it’s a land
where you decide your boy is a novelist and feed him books and he is
one, and he thinks in these supply-demand curves and says book
reading’s fine but there will have to be baseball for balance and
law school in order that I be a producer and not a ward of the state,
and bam—they are in it, fighting in a corner.
    "He’s bright enough. Let him read if he wants
to."
    "He has to work on it, Iv."
    "He’s a boy, for God’s sake."
    "Not any boy. My boy."
    Crack!
    "If you hit me again, it’ll be the last time."
    I wondered about that one for years. How did he do
it? A short, deft blow that broke her nose? A high—handed Cagney
slap? Or a schooled punch, like a hook? We boxed, twice. He got me
these