The Ginger Man - J. P. Donleavy [37]
"Well, I say, haven't you forgotten something ?"
"I beg your pardon"
"I repeat, there are ladies present. You ought to inspect yourself"
"Are you addressing me?"
"Yes"
This conversation is too much. Should have ignored the fool. This is most embarrassing. I ought to take a clout at that bastard in the corner who seems to be enjoying it so much. He'll enjoy it if I break his jaw for him. Why don't they lock these people up in Ireland. The whole city full of them. If I'm attacked, by God, I'll sue the corporation for selling this madman a ticket. Those two girls are very upset. This damn train an express all the way to the Rock. My God. Sit and bear it. Control. Absolute and complete control at all costs.
"Sir, this is abdominable hehavior. I must caution you. Frightfully serious matter, this. Shocking on a public conveyance. Part of you, sir, is showing."
"I beg your pardon, but would you please mind your own business or I'll break your jaw."
"It is my business to discourage this sort of thing when there are ladies present Shameful. There are other people in the car you know."
No hope. Don't let him suck me into conversation like that. Must employ me brain. We're coming into the Booterstown. Get out in a minute. Showing? Yes. My fingers are out Holy Catholic Ireland, have to wear gloves. Don't want to be indecent with uncovered fingers. And my face too. This is the last time positively that I appear without wearing a mask. There's a breaking point But I'll not break not for any of them and certainly not for this insane lout
Avoiding the red, pinched, insistent, maniacal face. Look out the window. There's the park and where I first saw my dear Chris to speak to me. O deliverance. That laughing monster in the corner, I'll drag him out of the car and belt him from one end of the station to the other. What's he doing. Pointing into his lap. Me? Lap? Good Christ It's out Every inch of it
Leaping for the door. Get out Fast. Behind him, a voice.
"Haven't you forgotten something else?'.
Wheeling, wrenching the blood-stained parcel from the rack.
Behind him.
"You can't remember your meat at all today"
11
Turning the glass around and around, swill, swallow, more. At his elbow the parcel of trusty liver, brown and blood. Over the tops of the houses across the street, the sun going down. It's late and Marion will be fit to be tied. I've tried to reason over this. It's not a matter of courage or grief or what, but I find it impossible to come to grips with that dreadful embarrassing situation. If only I'd buttoned my fly. If only that.
"My very good man, would you fill me up again."
"And certainly, Mr. Dangerfield."
Can I not be spared this misery. I thought I was over things like that. Well thank God 1 didn't walk through the Rock with it out. I need people to talk to. I have nobody to talk to. Go back is the only thing for it. Buy a head on the way.
He pushed through the broken, green door and wearily flung himself into the tattered chair. Marion in the kitchen, staring dumbly at her. Up on the wall behind her is the gas meter. I would like to point out that the meter is green, the penny slot is made of brass, and this meter measures my gas for me to cook my pitiful grub. I just can't stand any more.
Marion quavered at the door.
"I can't go on, Sebastian."
Sebastian looking up with interest.
"I really mean it. It's too much. You've been drinking."
"My dear Marion. I really mean it. It's too much. You've been drinking"
"I'm going to leave you."
"You're going to leave me."
"I mean that."
"O you mean it"
"Yes."
"Marion. I'm upset Now do you know what upset means? It means that I'm capable of doing anything. I'll kill you here and now unless I'm given some peace. I want peace. Now, Marion, you know what I want. Peace, God damn it"
"Don't shout at me. I'm not afraid of you."
"You're afraid of me, Marion. It's better that way. You'll keep away from my hands."
"You don't frighten me in the least. O you're so wretched."
"My dear Marion, you're upset O you're really upset Blinking your