The Way Through Doors (Vintage Contemporaries) by Ball Jesse

Author:Ball, Jesse [Ball, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780307472649
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2009-02-05T16:00:00+00:00

—Here’s the story, she said. I’m more stubborn than you are. I’m telling you now I won’t let go of your ear until you let me read WORLD’S FAIR.

She gave him then her winningest smile.

The pamphleteer smiled too.

—You know, he said, I was thinking of taking all the smiling out of W.F. In Seymour, an Introduction, he goes on about how smiling is just awful and no one should do it, in books, at least. What do you think?

—Smiling is for the birds, said Sif. Now give me the goddamned book.

—All right, said the pamphleteer. I’ll give you an early version. But hold on a moment, because I have to add one more bit.

He walked over to his drafting table. On the butcher paper he quickly sketched out the schematic he had just imagined, complete with a figure indicating Sif and a figure indicating himself.

Sif (still holding on to the pamphleteer’s ear), said,

—Do I really look like that?

—Much cuter, he said. And craftier-looking.

—Do I look crafty? she asked.

—You’re just the craftiest, said the pamphleteer.

This pleased Sif immediately. The pamphleteer rose and crossed the room, Sif hanging on all the while. He proceeded to make a lithograph plate of his schematic. This took some time.

—Can I get a drink? asked Sif. I’m very thirsty.

—All right, just give me a second, said the pamphleteer. He put the plate into the lithograph machine, put some good-quality paper underneath, and made a print. Taking it out, he smiled.

—Not bad, said Sif. Now, to the refrigerator.

They crossed the apartment. Sif took a bottle of iced tea out of the refrigerator. She poured two glasses and returned it. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a long sip.

With a spluttering laugh, she shook her head and put the glass down.

—Not an American cabernet, she said, an Italian, even a Chilean. American cabernets are fine. But not for this….

She shook her head again.

—You really don’t have the right instincts for this business of putting iced tea into old wine bottles.

—Fine, said the pamphleteer, blushing. Let’s finish this so you can let go of my goddamned ear.

Together they managed a sort of three-legged race over to the printing press. The pamphleteer took a little box from off the top of a pile of little boxes. On the cover it said,

WF 7 J 1978

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