The Evolution of Bruno Littlemore - Benjamin Hale [213]
I stared at it. I stared from every possible angle, then derived new angles of scrutiny out of a hand mirror held opposite the mirror on the wall. Mirror mirror on the wall, whose lovely nose is this?
I touched it. I lovingly stroked it with my long purple fingers. I looked so beautiful.
I began to cry. These were tears of joy. I felt the saltwater sliding in hot rivulets down the flanks of my beautiful new nose. This nose—as you can obviously see for yourself, Gwen—this nose was so artfully sculpted out of the flesh of my face… but it wasn’t just that. It was like the perfect nose had been found for me. The nose was totally in harmony with my face. I looked almost like I could pass for a natural-born human. I looked so good. My beautiful new face gave me a feeling of power. I wanted to parade my aesthetically improved face around town, introduce the world to the brand-new Bruno.
When I heard the front door open and close I burst from the bathroom to show Leon my new nose.
“Snakes alive!” Leon gasped. His eyes threatened to erupt from his eye sockets like corks from popguns. “Let me touch it!”
“Gently,” I warned. My nasal flesh was still very sensitive.
Leon placed a single shaky fat finger on the bridge of my nose.
“This is remarkable,” he whispered, “quite remarkable!”
Leon delicately caressed my nose with his finger. Then our eyes met in an uncomfortable way, and he quit touching my nose. We both looked away, and Leon pretended to cough.
“Come, Bruno, let us repair to Artie’s to celebrate your transformation. Audrey is tending the bar this evening.”
We went next door and ordered shrimp and wine, and I showed off my new face to Audrey and Sasha.
“Didn’t I tell you?” said Sasha. “He does good.”
“Wow! You almost look human, Bruno,” said Audrey.
“Thank you,” I said with a mild bow, taking the compliment with gentlemanly grace.
The girls all cooed and fawned over my face and patted me on the head. I entertained many fantasies about all the thousands of women who would be powerless to resist the magnetic attractiveness of my face now that I had a human nose.
“I am afraid your honeymoon with your nose must be short, Bruno,” said Leon. “For tomorrow, we must begin in earnest to work on our play.”
I knew that was true. My convalescence had stalled the production for long enough. There was the ticklish and interesting question of finding an appropriate performance space. We were called the Shakespeare Underground because our performances were held underground both metaphorically and literally. Performing the whole play in the subway wouldn’t have been feasible. Leon had an idea that involved a long-lost uncle of his.
“I have a long-lost uncle,” he said, “who must be in his nineties by now. He has owned and operated a locksmith’s shop for many years. He inherited it from his father.”
“Is he your father’s brother?”
“No.” Leon dug his fingers through his beard in thought. “He is my mother’s father’s brother. I suppose that’s a great-uncle. In any event, I hope he’s still among the living. I haven’t seen him in the last thirty years or so. He ought to be, he’s a stalwart and salubrious fellow. We shall pay him a visit tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“An excellent question.” Leon turned to his daughter, who was busy at the other end of the bar, and called: “Audrey!” He clapped his hands twice and jabbed a finger in the air.
“What?”
“The phone book, my darling.”
Audrey rolled her eyes and plopped several huge phone directories on the bar counter, one for each borough. We flopped them open to the L sections and found the listings for locksmiths.
“I misremember precisely where my uncle’s shop is,” he said, licking his thumb to page through the phone book. “I am reasonably certain it is located on the isle of Manhattoes, so we shall have to systematically visit every locksmith shop listed there until we find him.”
I agreed this was an excellent plan indeed. At Leon’s suggestion we ripped out the relevant pages from all the phone books.
“Jesus, Dad,” said Audrey. “Don’t vandalize the phone