398
PHILIP ROTH
not the total number of rings I get between six and ten o'clock every
night. "Sell that car, will you? Will you do me a favor and sell that
car so I can get a good night's sleep? Why you have to have a car
in that city is beyond my comprehension. Why you want to pay for
insurance and garage and upkeep, I don't even begin to understand.
But then I don't understand yet why you even have to live
by
yourself over in that jungle. What do you pay those robbers for that
two-by-four apartment anyway? A penny over fifty dollars a month
and you're out of your mind. Why you don't move back to North
Jersey is a mystery to me-why you prefer the noise and the violence
and the fumes-"
And my mother, Doctor, she whispers on.
Sophie whispers on!
I go for dinner there once a month; it is a struggle requiring all
my
guile and cunning and strength, but I have been able over all these
years still to hold it down to once a month. I get out of the elevator,
see those milk bottles outside the door-and my whole gorge rises;
then the door is opened and I am home: "Don't ask what kind of
day I had with him yesterday." So I don't. "Alex," she says,
sotto
voce,
"when he has a day like that you don't know what a difference
a call from you would make. And, Alex,"
~ven
as I nod yes, yes,
yes--"next week is his birthday. That mine went by last month
with–
out a card-those things don't bother me. He'll be sixty-six, Alex.
That's not a baby, Alex, if you know what I mean. Send him a card.
Pick up the phone.
It
wouldn't kill you."
Doctor, these people are incredible! These people are unbeliev–
able! These two are the outstanding producers and packagers of
guilt in our time! They render it from me like fat from a chicken!
"Call, Alex. Visit, Alex. Alex, keep us informed. Don't go away again
without telling us. Last time you went away you didn't tell us, your
father was ready to phone the police. You know how many times
a day he called and got no answer, Alex?" "Mother," I cry, "if I'm
dead they'll smell the body in three days !"-"Don't talk like that!"
she cries right back. "God forbid!" Oh, and now she's got the real
beauty, the one that comes with age: "Alex, to pick up the phone
is such a simple thing. How much longer will we be around to
bother you anyway?"
Doctor Spielvogel, this is my life, my only life, and I'm living
