MAGIC (17 page)

But many minutes later they were still locked and rhythmic, and the third fear vanished leaving Corky with nothing but the realization that what he wishea for he was getting, which didn’t happen to everybody, not every day, for there he was, deep within Peggy Ann Snow and wherever her body went on the bed, he followed her with his, firmly, gracefully, all of it proving only that sometimes, when you really needed Him, God put in an appearance after all.

In the next room, in the overstuffed chair, eyes wide, sat Fats, his head slightly turned, as if listening.

* * *

“I’ll bet they don’t give service like
that
at Grossinger’s,” Peg said, inevitably, later.

Corky lay quietly, his arms around her.

“That was more fun even than a Tupperware party.”

Corky smiled.

“Drop in again in fifteen years.”

“Why the jokes?”

“I’m kind of feeling my way along, I never played around before. True, I’m not claiming that I’m so pure and virtuous, I just never gave that much of a damn. Sex wasn’t a big thing in my family; I don’t think my mother was ever absolutely positive what her vagina was for. That’s what my old man used to indicate, anyway.”

“What about Duke?”

“Mainly he blows in my ear a lot.”

Corky started laughing.

“True.”

“How come?”

“I deceived him into thinking it drives me mad; I feel crummy about that sometimes. He’s tonguing away and I’m doing my best to moan while I think about shopping lists. I can be a very crappy lady if I put my mind to it.”

“Why’d you fake in the first place?”

“Ah. I’ve done a lot of thinking about that and you’ve got to remember that when I graduated from high school, there were nine different guys who claimed they were boffing me regular. Here I was, eighteen years old, undeniably the town pump, and still virgin. So I had a very good inkling that my future didn’t have me sticking here in Normandy. Off to college. Dumb. Not so much that maybe, as distracted. One semester and now I’m off to be a stew. Bad move. I’m terrific on the ground, in the air, not so hot. Shuffle off, to Buffalo. Doctor’s assistant. Give shots, console, and I’m really not bad. But big city life isn’t for me. Back to Normandy. Twenty-two now. Getting a little long in the tooth. Dah-dum: in his white charger, comes Duke.
Drives a Lincoln, looks like Elvis, due to take over his old man’s real estate office and his old man is
old
. We date. Hints, lots of sex talk. He’s confident. He knows, according to him anyway, his women. No real moves. Still hints. Chitchat. But he’s getting interested in me. I give him that. Once he cared plenty. So, as it must happen, we arrive in his apartment one night alone. This move, that fake. I wasn’t all that in the market. He can sense I’m not succumbing. Proposes. Will I tie the knot? Well lemme tell ya, that was the best offer I’d had that day. Not so terrible being married to a rising young executive that looks like Elvis Presley. And then, in desperation, he’s going to it with my ear. It was so sad I didn’t know whether to laugh or fake it, but I knew if I laughed, it was Elvis g’bye. So I moaned and eventually spread and a couple eventualities after that, we got married and Duke’s old man died on schedule, and there he was, his own man at twenty-five, and in less than five years he managed, with no help from anyone, to not only go bankrupt but bald.” She kissed Corky on the mouth. “Now you know all my secrets. Fair is fair. Tell me a sex story back.”

“I don’t even have to think. It’s not even much of a story.”

“If it’s not juicy, forget it. If I go to hell for this, I want it all to’ve been worth it.”

“Shut up. It’s not long. Freshman year, the end of class, the teacher is calling us up to hand in our homework assignments. I was just sitting there, not a thought to my name. That’s what’s so incredible. I went from zero to sixty and no time passed.”

“I don’t get you.”

“What I mean is, I wasn’t thinking about cards or coins or anything. Just a kid waiting for class to be done. I’d handed in my paper. If I had an emotion, it was just bored. Getting on in the day. Okay, now you’ve got to picture this. The teacher calls for this broad’s paper and she gets up and walks to the front.
And I’m watching. And as she walked, she passed
between
me and the outside sun. That’s important. The sun is
behind
her. I’m still watching remember. And this girl walks past me. She’s wearing a white sweater. And the sweater bulges out some in the front, because this one is kind of stacked. And as she passes me, I realized this amazing thing; the sweater bulged out, but with the sun behind her, I could see through the thing, and I could see her breasts curving back. You get it? I was just thirteen and
I saw this girl’s breasts
. I don’t want to oversell it, but my heart—I mean this—it pounded. From nothing to sixty—it just started smashing around inside me. It was the most powerful thing I think I ever saw in my life.”

“Why?”

“Because that was the first moment I knew what my cock was for. I understood it earlier, but that was the
second
that I realized the world had changed and it wasn’t ever going back. To this day, I can tell you everything about that room and the sun and the color white the sweater was.”

“I guess that’s kind of sweet,” Peg said.

“It was you, dummy; that was you walking past me in French class.”

“Well why didn’t you say that before; now it all makes good sense. The sight of my boobs would unhinge anybody permanent.” She paused a moment. “Was it really me?”

“Oh yes.”

“That’s just terrific.”

“I thought so.”

“I’ll tell you the truth, Cork. Things have sure no shit changed a little around here since yesterday afternoon.” She rolled her body gently against his. “What exactly do you call what we’ve been doing?”

“Fokking,” Corky told her.

“I think it may catch on,” Peg said. “Let’s do it until we get it right.”

“I don’t think I’m ready.”

She touched him. “Surprise.”

Corky stood in the living room, called out to the kitchen, “How come you have all these same kind of books?”

“Which?”

“Two weeks to learn this, thirty days to build that.”

“That’s my self-help collection. I’m an addict.” Corky walked out into the kitchen. Peg was unwrapping the frozen peas and fries. “It’s how come I speak funny—my grammar sucks but I can spell ‘antediluvian.’ It’s a-n-t-
e
not a a-n-t-
i
. I forgot what it means though. Right now I’m into creating a better memory.”

“Why’re you such a self-helper?”

Peg shrugged. “I started a couple years ago, when I realized no one else was gonna give me a hand.”

“Want mine?” Corky held out his right.

She kissed it, touched the fingers to her cheek. “Don’t think I’m not appreciative, but I’m a basket case in the kitchen—should I put the steak in first or start to warm the French bread? That’s why I like one-dish meals; it’s the only way I can get everything to come out together.”

In a very corny voice, Corky said, “Let me take you away from all this, Madeleine.”

“Oh Cuthbert, dare we?” She picked up the French fry wrapper, reread the instructions.

Seriously, Corky said; “Seriously.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s take off. I got a lot of money with me. We could go no place and stay awhile. Just us.”

“I should dump Duke and you’d leave Fats, is that your offer?”

“That’s exactly my offer—it’s not so crazy—you don’t care a crap for Duke—he probably wouldn’t even realize you’d gone from what you say about him. And I wouldn’t work on my act. See, that’s why Fats is helpful, practice, to stay on top of things, but today, when
I did those coin sleights for you, all that patter about should I try this stunt or that and deciding against it
while I was doing it
—I never came up with that kind of thing before you—you give me confidence, Peg—I don’t need anything else around—I could do maybe a whole different kind of thing if you were around for support—maybe I wouldn’t need Fats at all, I could kind of please people on my own.”

“You’re on your own when you’re with Fats.”

“Of course I am, I know that, but the audience, see, they think Fats is the funny one—really—people laugh at him putting me down.”

“I’m guilty of that, I admit it.”

“I’m the talent though—that’s the real truth of it but now I’m gonna tell you something that’s gonna rock you—sometimes even I get to think that Fats is the talent. Without him and those wisecracks, I’m just another schlepper. I didn’t feel that way with you though. When I was making those coins dance, that was
me
getting the smile. Let’s not make more of a deal out of it than it is. Peg, I’m just saying, throw away the first thirty years of your life and come wiz me to zee Kazz-bah.”

“That’s very sweet, I appreciate it, it’s probably only the best offer I’ve had all decade, but the answer has got to be no way, can’t be, impossible.”

It became improbable over the Scotch and water. While they rescued the French bread from the smoking oven, it moved to a distant but not inconceivable possibility. The steak was raw, but the offer she agreed to at least put on the back burner. It got to the front burner when they finished the wine. By the time Corky left after the Baskin-Robbins, she said she’d give an answer soon. That week, that night, who knew, she had to ponder. At the door, Corky kissed his own index finger, moved it to her nipples, touched them. He had seen something like that once in a French film and wondered at the time what it would feel like doing it to Peggy Ann Snow.

All in all, not bad.

“What’d’ya say, Sports Fans,” Corky said as he walked into the cabin living room.

From the overstuffed chair, Fats just grunted.

Corky hung his jacket up in the living room closet “What’s up?”

“Kind of blue.”

“About?”

“All this atmosfuckingphere has got me down.”

“The country grows on you.”

“So does cancer—hey pardner?”

“Speak.”

“Ah thank the time has come fer you’n me to be moseyin’ on. Let’s haul ass, Shane.”

“We will, we will.”

“Our work is done here, Masked Man—there’s no reason to stick around—and rustlers is causin’ a ruckus in Dodge—”

“I said we’d go.”

“I’m speaking of an imminent departure, schmucko—that’s our bone of contention.”

“Sorry,” Corky said.

“I want to blow this crib, goddammit.”

“Simmer down.”

“What’s so great here?—”

“—nothing, but—”

“—screw the ‘buts’—I want
out
—”

“—
no
and that’s it—”

“—listen, Laddie, there’s no reason for us to have a confronfuckingtation over something as easy to solve as this: you want to stay, terrific, stay. Just get me back to New York. You come when you want.”

Corky started unbuttoning his shirt.

“I take it your silence indicates a lack of enthusiasm for my suggestion.”

“The discussion’s over, period.”

“I don’t think I’ve been getting through to you—I want to hit New York in the forfuckingseeable future—”

“I told you before, just simmer the hell down—”

“—I won’t—I won’t—”

“—you will—”

“—
won’t won’t won’t won’t won’t
—”

“—
willl
”

“—just because some bitch of an aging ingenue puts out for you—”

“—you watch it mister—”

“ ‘—oh Corky, you do it so good, oh Christ Corky, you are some hung stud, oh God don’t stop—’ ”

“
You
stopl Right now—
or there’s gonna be consequences
!—”

That was when Fats screamed.

Ashen and trembling, old eyes wide, the Postman stood staring from the doorway …

“How do you like it?” Corky said brightly. “I think it’s gonna be terrific.”

The Postman could only shake his head.

“I haven’t got it to performance level yet, but it’s got the potential to add a whole new dimension; at least I hope so.”

“How long you been like this, kid?”

“Like what?” Corky started laughing. “Oh come on. You don’t think that was for real? Christ, how do you think I rehearse?”

“No good.”

“You been in the business half a century—how can you not tell a routine when you hear one?”

“Gangrene never was the brightest,” Fats said.

“It’s for the
act
—you’re really getting senile, Postman—here’s my reasoning: Fats insults me, I do tricks, Fats insults me, I do tricks—eventually that’s got to get a little repetitive wouldn’t you say? So what I decided to do was expand the format, add more give and take, increase the banter, use the sleights more for climax or punctuation. Lemme give you an example.” He grabbed Fats, held him in position. “Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing enjoyment, my version of The Miser’s Dream.”

“Was it a wet dream?” Fats wondered.

“No—shut up—ladies and gentlemen, imagine if you will—”

“—when I have a wet dream, all that happens is I wake up covered with sawdust,” Fats said.

Corky looked at Fats. “If you don’t stop interrupting, there’s a Mafia woodpecker who’ll go to work on you.”

Fats looked at Corky. “I would like very much a wood pecker.”

“Don’t encourage him please, ladies and gentlemen—now, once there was a miser, and like many misers, this one had managed to secrete a fortune—”

“—would trade my fortune for a penis.”

“You haven’t got a fortune.”

“That’s all right, I haven’t got a penis either.” Corky looked at the Postman.

The old man just shook his head. “Like I said already once, no good.”

“I don’t get it,” Corky said. “What’s going on in your head? How can you not see what great stuff I’m working up?”

“Is this why you wouldn’t take the medical exam? You figured someone would find out?”

“Bullshit—I’ll take the
stupid
exam—I just needed to get my head on straight; I was afraid of success, as close as I can figure. But now my mind’s made up one hundred percent. I’ll take the exam, do the show, whatever you want.”