Henry of Atlantic City Page 9

  Henry said sometimes he made the rounds with his father. People respected a family man. Being a family man put everyone at ease. Henry said his father told him when people feared you and you made them feel comfortable anyway you could tell them to do anything and they’d do it.

  “Now, that’s a charming piece of psychology,” Father Crowley said and sat down again. “What do you make of this kind of talk, Doctor?”

  “Henry should feel comfortable to speak his mind.”

  Father Crowley rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch.

  “What kinds of games did you play? You did play games, didn’t you?”

  Henry told him about plague sowing. The old man listened but this time he didn’t laugh or say anything. “What other sorts of things did you do?”

  Henry said he liked to go down to the Olympic swimming pool in the morning and watch Theodora swim because she looked like Porphyrius the whale.

  “You mean Porphy the whale?”

  Henry said no, Porphyrius. She was purple, like the great column in the Forum of Constantine.

  “Has he told you this before?” Dr. Alt asked Father Crowley.

  “I’ve heard some version of it,” Father Crowley said. “I’ve heard so many different stories that nothing makes sense to me anymore. Tell us about Porphyrius, Henry. That’s something I can’t make heads or tails of. Henry talks about a whale named Porphyrius.”

  “That sounds very interesting. Could you tell me something about Porphyrius?”

  Henry said whales are beautiful creatures.

  “Have you ever seen one?”

  Henry said yes.

  “Where?”

  Henry said in the Sea of Marmara.

  “How interesting. When were you at the Sea of Marmara?”

  Henry said he used to go there every morning to watch her swim.

  “The fish is an extremely interesting and very powerful symbol,” Dr. Alt said to Father Crowley. “I wrote about it in my book, Psychosis as Excursus.”

  “Oh?” Father Crowley said. He seemed only half interested.

  “It’s too complex to go into right now. But it is very significant.”

  “Do you think now is the right time to talk about it?” Father Crowley nodded at Henry.

  “Of course! I want everything to be in the open. The fish is an archetypal symbol of the self, de profundo lavatus, drawn from the deep. As such it is an expression of psychological wholeness.” He rubbed his palms together. “Very nice, Henry. This is a very good place to begin.”

  Henry said whales aren’t fish.

  “That’s correct,” Dr. Alt said, and smiled. “From the standpoint of zoology. But the psyche rarely takes taxonomic distinctions into account in elaborating its symbols.”

  “Dr. Alt is a very learned man, Henry. You might try listening to him. Stop talking like a smart aleck.”

  Henry looked into the fire for a few minutes. His angel called to him and his vision darkened and his head felt light. The angel’s voice made a melody of the crackling logs and when the music faded and his vision returned, Henry looked at the old doctor and said nothing. Father Crowley stood up again and walked over to the fireplace and stood with his back to it.

  Henry told the old doctor about the Olympic swimming pool and Theodora in her purple bathing suit and cap and how his father hated her.

  “Your father hated her?”

  Henry nodded.

  “Why?”

  Henry said because she was very powerful and he never knew where he stood with her.

  The priests glanced at each other, then back at Henry. “Is that all?” Dr. Alt asked.

  Henry shook his head. She was a smart-ass MBA bitch and was squeezing him to death too.

  “That’s enough of that,” Father Crowley said.

  Dr. Alt held up his hand. “Is Theodora the fish?”

  Henry said not a fish, a whale. She swam every morning in the Olympic swimming pool and sometimes he saw her at the Golden Gate.

  “The Golden Gate?”

  Henry said it was the gate at one end of the city that was built by Theodosius and it was the gate through which all conquering emperors entered the city. On one side it said, Theodosius adorns this place after the doom of the usurper, and on the other side it said, He who constructed the Golden Gate brings in the Golden Age. Then Henry stopped talking and looked past the two priests into the flames. He watched the red and orange tongues flicker and lap and strained to hear the music he had heard a few minutes ago. He wanted to ask them about hell but decided to wait until some other time. The emperors retreat on the Black Sea came into his thoughts and the owl that lived in the tree and he wondered if the emperor had given his father the job.

  It was quiet for a long time.

  “What do you make of it all?” Father Crowley asked.

  The doctor took off his glasses and cleaned them. “Extremely interesting. But it is going to take time to sort things out.” Then he put his glasses back. “Very well, then. I’d like to say a few things. This might not make much sense to either of you, but I just want to express what I think is happening here.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Father Crowley asked.

  “Absolutely. I want Henry to hear everything I have to say. Normally, you see, the relationship between the specific contents of the conscious and the unconscious becomes clear only in later stages of analytic treatment. But this situation is unique. I’ve never seen anything remotely like it. The overt confusion of conscious and unconscious facts seems to lead, well—straight to the later stage.” He stopped for a moment. “It’s hard to explain, and I know I’m talking past you right now, but it helps me to focus my thoughts. The situation is a difficult one. Extremely complex. Very interesting.”

  Henry looked into the fire.

  “Of course, I’m speaking very generally and extemporaneously. What I say should not be taken as a diagnosis of any sort.”

  “Of course,” Father Crowley said.

  “But it is an extremely interesting situation, and I would like to get to know Henry better as a patient. Do you think that is possible?”

  “I doubt there will be any objections,” Father Crowley said. “Would you like to talk to Dr. Alt on a regular basis?”

  Henry didn’t want to talk to anyone but nodded just to get it over with.

  Father Crowley looked at his watch and said, “Looks to me like it’s time for lunch.”

  Henry asked to go to the bathroom.

  “Run along. We’ll be in the dining room. And don’t forget to wash your hands.” The two priests walked down the long corridor that led to the dining room and the other parts of the rectory. When they were out of sight Henry slipped out the front door and ran faster than he’d ever run before. A taxicab turned onto the street just as he reached the end of the block and Henry waved to it.

  “What’s the problem, kid?” the driver said.

  Henry took out a hundred-dollar bill and showed it to the driver and asked him to take him to a store in Philadelphia called Mitzi.

  The driver laughed.

  Henry took out another hundred-dollar bill and showed it to the driver.

  The driver stared at Henry and at the money. “Hop in,” he said and opened the door.

  EGYPT

  Henry sat in the rear seat of the car and watched the back of the driver’s head. They drove for a little while and Henry tried to open the window but it didn’t work. The driver turned onto a highway and said something but Henry didn’t hear because he was scared. The driver started to sing. “They often call me Speedo, but my real name is Mr. Earl.” Then he looked into the rearview mirror. “C’mon up front,” he said and patted the seat next to him.

  Henry shook his head.

  “Aw, c’mon. I can’t see you sitting all the way back there.”

  Henry climbed over the seat.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  Henry told him.

  “Pleased to meet you, Henry,” Mr
. Earl said. They drove for a long time. Mr. Earl smoked cigarettes and pointed to some factories and steel mills as they drove past. “The only thing worse than a mill in full production is an abandoned one,” he said. “The world is unfair no matter how you look at it. It’s getting worse too. Never thought I’d see it that way, but there it is. Time was, all I wanted was to stay alive.” Mr. Earl rolled the window down and flicked another cigarette out onto the road. “But that was wartime, and I don’t like to think about it, and I don’t know if it even counts anymore. Probably not.” A little while later he pulled into a rest area that had some picnic tables. “I’m starving,” he said.

  Mr. Earl was very tall and had big shoulders and a big chest and long reddish hair that he kept tied in a ponytail. He had a thick mustache that drooped down each side of his mouth, which he smoothed and twisted with his fingers a lot, and a jagged purple stain just under one of his eyes that looked like a tear that had never been wiped away. He wore big black boots and a jacket with lots of pockets. Henry thought Mr. Earl was only being friendly because he was going to kill him. Then he remembered what his angel had told him about the children of the heavenly man and how they too had passed through the degradation of the life of the flesh and suddenly Mr. Earl appeared to Henry as a man who had already passed through those degradations and they had made him harmless. Mr. Earl unpacked things from the trunk of the car and said he was preparing a feast.

  Inside the trunk was an entire kitchen. There was a stove with two burners and a large wooden cutting board that folded up and out like a shelf. There was a jug with a faucet for water and there were drawers and containers built into the sides of the trunk. Mr. Earl said he did a lot of camping and whistled as he mixed things together and cut and chopped. In a little while he lifted up a large plate and closed the trunk. It was cold and the wind was blowing but Henry and Mr. Earl ate the whole omelette. Then they packed everything up again.

  After eating Henry felt tired and he got into the back seat of the car. Mr. Earl said he had to take a leak and went to the restroom. Henry fell into a deep sleep. In his sleep he was herded through the crowded streets of Atlantic City with flocks of sheep and cows and children and slaves and captured soldiers. The closer he came to Caesar’s Palace the denser the crowd around him became. Nothing was visible and in the darkness he was overwhelmed by the heat of so many bodies pressing against him. Then a bird came down from the sky and landed on Henry’s shoulder. The crowd slowly disappeared and he found himself standing on the shore looking out to sea. The surf made no sound and there were no boats on the water. The hotels and casinos rose up behind him and there was perfect silence.

  Henry woke up in the parking lot outside Egypt. He sat up and looked out the window. It was dark and there were only a few cars in the lot. Across the street was a building with a red neon sign that flickered on and off. There were no windows. A car drove by. It slowed down as it passed in front of Egypt but then it sped away and the street was silent again. Henry was frightened. The darkness around him was not sweet and it was cold inside the car. He began to cry.

  Mr. Earl opened the door and got in. “What’s the matter, Henry?” He took some things out of his pockets and put them in the glove compartment. “Listen, Henry. I need to ask you a favor. That money you paid me? You know, for the ride? Well, I owed somebody and now I’m broke again. Could you lend me a little more? I’m in a tight spot.” Henry felt in his pocket and took out a hundred-dollar bill and gave it to Mr. Earl and said that was all he had.

  “Listen, forget it, kid,” Mr. Earl said. “I don’t want to take all you have.”

  Henry said it was okay.

  “Tell you what,” Mr. Earl said. “I’ll take fifty.”

  Henry looked out the window at the sign flashing E-G-Y-P-T. EGYPT. E-G-Y-P-T. EGYPT. Mr. Earl waited for a moment, then said, “Why don’t you come inside with me. I’ll introduce you to Pearl.”

  Henry asked who Pearl was.

  “An old friend,” Mr. Earl said. “Come on in and find out for yourself.” They walked across the dark parking lot and then Henry remembered that Egypt was where Mohammed Ali was from and that Helena had said he was going to take her there. Suddenly he was very glad and ran to catch up with Mr. Earl. When they entered, Henry’s heart pounded and his ears rang. It was dark inside like a cave and very smoky—not like a place where books were hidden but like a place where they were forgotten.

  “Meet my friend Henry,” Mr. Earl said.

  “Hello, Henry,” Pearl said. She put an arm on his shoulder and drew him against her. “Cute little thing,” she said to Mr. Earl. “Where’d he come from?” Her voice was raspy and she was pretty in a grown-up kind of way. She was wearing a halter top like the kind Helena wore at the health club in Philadelphia that made her bosoms plump out, and she had a small tattoo of a butterfly on the back of one shoulder.

  Mr. Earl took out the money Henry had given him. “How about some change?”

  Pearl went behind the bar and came back with two fifty-dollar bills and gave them to Mr. Earl. Mr. Earl put one in his pocket and gave the other one back to Henry and winked. “Thanks for the loan, pal.”

  Pearl gave Henry a Coke to drink. There was a TV set up above the bar that nobody was watching and a jukebox that played loud music. There was a pool table that nobody was playing at and there were booths with red lightbulbs in them where nobody was sitting. Egypt was nearly empty.

  Mr. Earl put his arm around Pearl’s waist and kissed her on the mouth.

  Pearl pushed him away. “What breeze blew you in here?” she asked.

  Mr. Earl shrugged his shoulders. “Just felt like seeing you.” Mr. Earl drank some more and became serious. So did Pearl. They talked about someone they knew who had died. “I’m feeling older and lonelier than ever,” she said. “All I need now is to get sick.”

  “That’s enough of that,” Mr. Earl said and went to the cigarette machine. While he was gone Pearl looked at Henry and smiled and kept looking at him but didn’t say anything. Then when Mr. Earl came back she began to cry. Mr. Earl put an arm around her shoulder. “Jesus, kid. What did you say to her?”

  Henry said nothing.

  Pearl put her head on Mr. Earl’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came,” she said. Just then a door burst open and a woman came rushing into the room. She was barefoot and had on only underwear and her hair was all wild. Pearl stood up and the woman ran into her arms and began to cry.

  “He tried to hurt me,” the woman said.

  Mr. Earl jumped up. “Who did? Where is he?”

  “Shush. You stay out of this,” Pearl said and patted the woman’s head. But Mr. Earl ran out of the room. Then he came crashing back through the door holding a man in a headlock. The man was kicking and shouting and Mr. Earl kept saying, “Shut up!” and smashing his knee into the man’s face. The man was bleeding and his arms were flailing. Mr. Earl dragged him to where the woman and Pearl were sitting. “This him?”

  The woman nodded and ran back through the door and slammed it behind her.

  “Just get him the hell out of here!” Pearl said.

  The man groaned and Mr. Earl dragged him outside.

  “Everything’s just fine, everybody. Let’s just forget it,” Pearl shouted. Then she took Henry by the hand. “Come with me, sweetheart,” she said. They went down a long corridor and up some stairs into an apartment. She turned on the TV set. “I’ll be back up a little later,” she said. “Make yourself at home.”

  Henry lay down on the sofa and tried to remember everything he knew but he couldn’t remember anything. On the wall above the TV was a broken cuckoo clock. The door was open and the bird was showing but the hands of the clock didn’t move. He wanted to get up and look around but he was scared and didn’t want to get lost. His angel told him that damnation was a wordless, thoughtless frenzy of animal living.

  When morning came Henry was still scared. He was lying in a big, soft bed in a room filled with wild animals, but then he saw that they
were all stuffed. There were lots of birds that weren’t singing and a fox that wasn’t hunting and squirrels that weren’t climbing and a deer that wasn’t running and even butterflies that weren’t flying because they were pinned to the wall. There were long blue drapes over the windows made to look like a waterfall and the wallpaper was a gigantic photograph of a deep forest in the summertime. He lay in bed as the waterfall became lighter and lighter until it was almost transparent. Then the silence of the forest became oppressive and when he clapped his hands to fill the void and the wide-eyed animals remained frozen in their places he remembered that he was in Egypt.

  Henry put on his shoes and opened the door. He tiptoed down a short hallway and opened the door at the end.

  “Who’s that?” Mr. Earl said and sat up straight. Then he said, “Shit,” and rubbed his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” Pearl was lying next to him.

  “Never ever sneak up on me like that, kid.”

  Henry said he wanted to go to Philadelphia.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.” He lay back down and pulled the covers up. “Go back to bed.”

  Pearl told Henry to wait in the hallway while she got dressed. Then she took him into the kitchen. “I’m going to cook you up a breakfast you’ll never forget,” she said. “How did you like sleeping in the Garden of Eden?”

  Henry said the animals all looked dead.

  “Well, we sure couldn’t have live ones in there.” Pearl lit a cigarette and smoked it while she made breakfast. “Say, how’d you like to come with me to my favorite place in the whole world? Can you guess where my favorite place is?”

  Henry said he didn’t know.

  “The zoo! They have live animals there.” Then she started to sing, “If we could talk to the animals, learn their languages da da da da de da de de de. Ah, shit. I always forget the words.” She kept cooking and began to glow and shine and no longer looked cast into the mud like a tired woman who smelled smoky and sour like old men smell. The smell of food filled the kitchen and Mr. Earl came into the room.