Authors: William Goldman
Billy Boy lay naked while the two women massaged him with oils. Maybe not totally naked—there was a small cloth covering him, but sometimes when he moved his body a little one way or another on the bed, it would slide away and then they could catch sight of it. When that happened, they didn
’
t make a fuss, just readjusted the small cloth.
In the beginning he figured they were hookers but now considering the white uniforms and all, they had to be nurses. Strong. They both had great fingers. Now one of them was standing above his head, stretching the muscles in his neck while the other gave his calves a going over.
“
What
’
s
‘
at stuff?
”
he asked after a while. It was hard for him to talk or think good. He was so relaxed. He could never remember being this relaxed before.
“
Patchouli,
”
one of the broads said, the one doing his neck. Light brown hair. Probably a little older than the other one but a better shape. If he had to rape one or the other, the one with the light brown hair would get the call.
“
Jeannie,
”
Billy Boy whispered then.
“
Pardon?
”
“
You got that light brown hair like in the song.
”
Someone in his family had sung it once. Way back.
“
Shhh,
”
the nurse said gently.
“
You must rest
”
Billy Boy closed his eyes and rested.
All he could feel was their fingers. Good and strong and never stopping. The fingers would find a knot and then they
’
d go to work, smoothing, stretching, till the knot was gone.
“
What
’
sis place
?”
Billy Boy asked after a whi
l
e.
“
The doctor will explain everything,
”
the nurse at his calves said.
“
Soon.
”
Now she was working on his feet, rubbing the tired soles. The smell of that patchouli oil was all around him. He really liked it a lot. Next whore I have, he decided, first she
’
s gonna rub me with patchouli oil.
Now the nurse at his neck moved down to one thigh and the nurse at his feet moved up to the other. Ordinarily he
’
d be hot to trot when that happened. Ram, jam, thank you ma
’
am. Only now, it was too much effort. Everything was too much effort. The best thing was to lie there and just go with it. He could take off if he wanted. No question, a bust out was his for the asking. But so far, they
’
d been nice, so far all he
’
d had to do was rest and eat good hot food done any way he asked for it and lie still while these two - made him sleepy.
—
a helluva lot better than being back on that roof—
“
What
’
s wrong?
”
the one nurse said suddenly.
“
Why are you so tense?
”
“
Relax.
”
“
Yes. Please. Relax.
”
“
Sometimes you remember bad things,
”
Billy Boy said.
“
Just don
’
t think,
”
the light brown hair one told him.
Billy Boy gave that a try. Soon he was conscious of the sound of his own breathing. Smooth and even, smooth and slow and maybe he even went out for a while, but he was immediately aware as soon as somebody else came in the room, not because of any noise or like that—
-—but the nurses, their fingers dug too deep all of a sudden, they were the tense ones now.
Billy Boy opened his eyes. The guy looking down was tall, thin, brown hair, coat and tie, the face of a guy always smelling something he didn
’
t like a lot; a shitheel. The shitheel said,
“
My name is
Trude
, Mr. Wins
l
ow.
”
“
Where am I, what
’
sis place?
”
“
In the middle of Manhattan, on the top floors of a building.
”
“
Hospital?
”
“
Partly that, on occasion a research center.
”
“
What
’
s a research center?
”
A shitheel smile.
“
A place where you look for things, Mr. Wins
l
ow.
”
A shitheel pause.
“
That
’
s really much too formal,
‘
Mr. Wins
l
ow.
’
How would you like to be called?
”
William was what he wanted, only no one ever did that-—he loved William. William was class.
“
Billy Boy
’
ll do.
”
“
I don
’
t much like that either.
”
“
Well, it doesn
’
t matter a helluva lot what you like in the long run, does it?
”
“
I like
‘
William.
’
I think I
’
ll call you that.
”
Billy Boy looked at him closer now.
“
How long I been here?
”
“
Eighteen hours perhaps. I trust everything
’
s pleasing to you.
”
Billy Boy shrugged again.
“
You can
‘
trust
’
that if it isn
’
t, I
’
m getting the fuck out.
”
“
I would hope it wouldn
’
t come to that.
”
“
What
’
sat mean?
”
“
We wouldn
’
t want to detain you forcibly.
”
Billy Boy had to laugh at that one.
“
What—these two bimbos would pin me and you
’
d tie me up?
”
“
Let
’
s just hope it doesn
’
t come to that,
”
Trude said again.
“
I make a bad first impression on people, William, I
’
m afraid I
’
ve done that with you. In time I think we may even come to like each other.
”
“
How much time?
”
“
Let
’
s just take things as they come, shall we?
”
“
I
’
m stayin
’
because I want t
o
—I go when I wanna
go
—you remember that.
”
“
Of course.
”
“
I
’
m boss,
I
run me
!”
“
Of course. The moment you decide to leave, just tell me
…
and well bring you immediately back to the gentleman we took you from, no problem at—
”
“
—you keep him away from me—
”
Billy Boy was sitting now, the nurses backing away as he began to scream.
“
—you keep that fucker the hell away you know what
’
s good for you, I don
’
t wanna see that fucker, you got me,
you got me
?”
“
William, William,
”
the shitheel said.
“
How can we have begun so badly; the Duchess told me how sensitive you were, and now look what I
’
ve gone and done.
”
“
You know the Duchess?
”
“
For many glorious years.
”
He came close to the bed now, whispered.
“
How do you think I knew to call you William? You told her, she told me. How do you think I knew what movie you
’
d be attending? You told her, she told me. We have no secrets, the
Duchess and I—and you and I must be the same.
”
He reached out now, touched Billy Boy
’
s forehead, gently rubbed the temples.
“
Please lie back down.
”
Billy Boy did.
Trude
gestured for the nurses to return to their labors. In an instant their fingers were on the giant
’
s body. He closed his eyes.
Trude
’
s voice went on softly.
“
What a wonderful creature you are, William. What a misunderstood man. She told me. She told me. As gifted with your brains as with your body. She told me. And the Duchess never lies.
”
“
…
‘
at
’
s
ri
…
”
“
Soon, William, soon.
”
He moved to the door, gestured for the brown-haired nurse to follow him. He opened the door to the hallway, stepped outside, spoke briefly to her when she was beside him.
“
Alert me the moment he
’
s ready.
”
“
Of course.
”
“
But since I
’
m sure we
’
d all prefer that moment come sooner rather than later, may I suggest you immediately alter your style.
”
“
I
’
ve been doing massage for many years, Doctor.
”
“
Of course you have but if you
’
re perfect, then you
’
re the first since Jesus to reach that state, so I
’
m sure you won
’
t mind some suggestions.
”
She said nothing, waited.
“
End the
tapotement
immediately and concentrate solely on
effleurage.
Clear?
”
When she nodded he said
“
Excused
”
and turned his back on her, walked away. He was well aware that she was angry, that he could have simply said,
“
End the percussion immediately and concentrate solely on stroking.
”
But it was important that all his underlings realize that not only was he more intelligent and knowledgeable than they, he was all of that on their best subjects.
He had been first in every school he ever attended.
Now he stopped by the two men in blue suits who sat alertly at the end of the hall. They had helped him get Winslow into the limousine some hours earlier, and they were both excellent at their profession. Apple, the larger of the two, stood as
Trude
approached. Berry, the younger and quicker, stayed seated as he was. Berry was bright, too bright perhaps, and might someday require disciplining.
Well,
Trude
was good at that, too.
“
Half an hour or less I should think,
”
he told them.
“
Yessir,
”
Apple said.
Trude
noted Berry
’
s silence as he continued on past the elevators—he detested waiting—to the stairs, went down the two flights in silence. When he reached his office he unlocked it, turned on the lights, locked the door behind him, made a fresh pot of coffee, and while he waited, took some caffeine pills. He had been up many hours now and it was essential that when Winslow was ready, he, Leo
Trude
, had to be that and then some. Success, as always, rested solely in his hands.
His office, book lined, was a source of cheer to
Trude
; his desk, dust free, the same. The entire room was in perfect order—he had been an anal compulsive for so long that he could still remember his parents actually
worrying
about it.
“
There ought to be
some
mess,
”
his father said often.
“
Leo, remember, a sweet disorder in the dress kindles in clothes a wantonness.
’’
But then, his father had been a fool. A double FF—Fool and Failure. An unpublished poet, an unread scholar, a professor of excruciating dullness. His mother had been one of his students, unpretty, driven. When she finally realized she had mounted the wrong horse, Leo was the one who was whipped, whipped to run faster, fastest, to win.
Soon, mother, soon.
He opened his central desk drawer, took out a pen. The drawer on the right contained paper, beneath that was a folder already titled
“
Winslow.
”
Leo glanced at his coffee, perking away. Then he began to print quickly, the letters so small, so perfectly formed, the lines so straight that at first glance it could have passed for typing. He bunched his thoughts toward the center of the page
.
First Meeting
11 Feb 1981
10:06 P.M.
What a repellent creature.
Loathsome. Unredeemed.
But, I suspect, useful.
Richard Wagner repelled.
Treacherous. Unredeemed.
But Tristan lurked inside.
It would certainly be nice—
—nice if our heroes were
heroic.
Not the case
Not the case
Oddity
Winslow has
psychotic
fear.
Fear of the policeman—
The one who had control
Until we took control.
I suspect that fear
may be
useful.
His coffee was ready by now. Trude got up, poured himself a large mug. He took it black and it was blazing hot but he blew on the edge closest to him and jsipped. It burned on the way down, as he preferred it. He could finish a cup of coffee before most people could dare to begin.
He finished this cup, poured himself another, carefully took it back to his desk. He reached into the center drawer again, removed a pad, put the mug carefully down on it. He drank a little more of the liquid, blowing always on the nearest edge, sipping, sipping. Then he wrote a few more words.
Hope
The Breakthrough
Fear
Another Rosa Gonzales.
Odd, they were both from the Duchess. Trude didn
’
t much like her, hated her dog. Yet she had a way about her, a touch for sensitives. And if he disliked her, nothing unusual there—he had yet to meet a man he didn
’
t dislike. Or woman.
Beyond that, the Duchess, poor blind thing, didn
’
t matter, not anymore.
The buzz of the phone. The push of a button. The voice of the brown-haired nurse.
“
Almost asleep.
”
Trude
took a breath, sipped a sip, gave the word:
“
Take him to the Infinity Room
…
”
The room itself was square, high ceilinged. The walls had been carefully corked, so no unwanted sound could penetrate. Then over the cork came
mirrors
. The waMs, the ceiling, all but the floor. And hanging down every precise tea inches, was a string of delicate lights.
Sounds, when required, came from all angles, surrounding. Winds, tree leaves in autumn, water sounds, dark and steady, sometimes, when needed, the topmost strings of a harp.
In the center of the room was a reclining couch of unsurpassed softness. Behind it, a stiff, straight-backed wooden chair. Beside the chair, a box of toys.
Billy Boy lay on the couch, eyes barely open. Above him the delicate strings of tights twinkled to infinity. From somewhere he heard the soothing sound of wind. Then the wind died and now came water, lapping gently all around.
He blinked.
Twenty seconds later lie blinked again.
Those were his only movements.
“
William.
”
“
…
huh
…
?
”
“
I
’
m behind you, William, sitting behind you. Doctor
Trude
, the friend of the Duchess.
”
“
Din
’
t
…
din
’
t hear you
…
come in.
”
“
We
’
re just here together, just you, just me. Now will you do me a sweet favor, William?
”
“
Sure.
”
“
Look up at the lights. Look up at the lights, will you do that?
”
“
Shuh… shure.
”
“
Are you staring up at the lights, William?
”
“
…
um-hmm
…
”
“
Now I want you to do something else, another sweet favor.
”
“
…
wuh-what
…
?
”
“
I want you to take your eyes, the eyes that are looking straight up at the lights, and I want you to try and see me, you can
’
t, but I want you to try, I want you to lie there and breathe and
listen to the
wind and lift your eyes up into your head.
”
“
Can
’
t see
…
you.
”
“
No, you
’
re not supposed to see me, but you
’
re supposed to try.
”
“
Tryin
’.”
“
Good. Now one final sweet sweet request.
”
“
Yessir.
”
“
Keep your eyes looking up toward your brain, it
’
s as if your eyes were trying to peek at your brain, your eyes are that high, and now slowly… slowly drop your wonderful eyelids over your eyes … close your eyelids over your eyes… gently and slowly bring your eyelids down over your eyes …
”
“
Closin
’
‘
em. Closin
’
‘
em.
”
“
Good.
”
“
Got
‘
em closed.
”
“
Yes.
”
Billy Boy said nothing now.
Trude waited.
Billy Boy began breathing deeply.
Trude still waited.
The breathing, still deep, began to slow.
“
William.
”
“
Yes.
”
“
You
’
re very strong.
”
“
Yes.
”
“
I want you to lift up your right arm. I want you to make it stiff and straight. And I want you to hold it there even when I try to pull it down. No one can pull it down.
”
“
Still and straight, yessir.
”
Trude got up from the chair. The arm was aimed at the mirrored ceiling. He was not a great believer in exercise, but Trude walked a great deal and he weighed always one hundred and sixty-one. He pulled on the arm now. He put both of his hands around the wrist and pulled harder.
The arm was immobile.
“
Oh that was wonderful, William. You can put it down now, I
’
m very proud.
”
“
Thank you.
”
“
Could I have your hand, William?
”
Trude reached over, grasped the limp arm. From his pocket he took out a penknife with a tiny honed blade.
“
William, I would never hurt you, I think you know that.
”
“
Yessir.
”
“
You can feel no pain, William. There is no such thing as pain for you. Do you understand?
”
“
Yes.
”
Trude took the honed blade and placed it just under the fingernail of Billy Boy
’
s index finger.
“
Now in a few minutes,
”
he said,
“
I
’
m going to touch your arm with a knife, but you will not feel it because even now you can feel no pain.
”
Trude began delicately forcing the knife deeper under the index fingernail.
“
You must promise me, in a few minutes, to tell me if that knife hurts your arm.
”
Billy Boy breathed very deeply.
“
I promise.
”
Trude continued forcing the knife in.
“
Because I wouldn
’
t want to hurt you. If it does hurt you, I would feel dreadful.
”
The knife was halfway up the nail now.
Billy Boy took another deep, even breath.
Trude pulled the knife out, put it back in his pocket.
“
I just touched your arm, did it hurt?
”
“
Nuthin
’.
”
Trude went back to the stiff-backed chair, closed his own eyes a moment. Winslow was past the dream state and well into coma. Only a few could surpass coma. Only the rare, only the true miracles could enter the realm of the Clinically Insentient.
Ahead of Trude now was a particular part of the mirrored wall that was two-way, and on the other side of the wall was the room where the blue-suited men watched and the nurses watched and where Roget watched, the tiny Frenchman who had helped Trude design this place, and as Trude signaled there immediately came now the glorious poignant sound of the harp.
“
Do you hear, William?
”
“
Yes.
”
“
Do you know what it is?
”
“
No.
”
“
Could it be angels? If angels made a sound, it would be like that.
”
“
Yes.
”
“
Angel sound for your ears, William, how old are you?
”
“
Old?
”
“
Yes.
”
“
Maybe thirty-one.
”
“
Thirty-one; I remember when I was only thirty-one, Fm forty-five now but you know what? All ages are marvelous ages. You
’
ll
see when you grow older. What do you like, what are your favorite things, Wi
ll
iam?
”
“
Tits and Big Macs and Whoppers.
”
“
Do you like history?
”
“
Is that like books?
”
“
Sometimes.
”
“
Don
’
t like that.
”
“
But you know history—I
’
m sure you know who the President is.
”
“
Reagan.
”
“
There you go. And whom did he beat?
”
“
Ummmmmm
…
that southern asshole.
”
“
And his name?
”
“
Ummmmmmm
…
Carter.
”
“
Right again; you see, you do know history, do you like sports?
”
“
You bet. I like every one but basketball on account of all the niggers.
”
“
Who
’
s your favorite football player?
”
“
Bradshaw, Bradshaw, Terry Bradshaw.
”
“
And do you have a baseball favorite?
”
“
Pete Rose is the greatest.
”
“
Do you know what I like, William? Birthdays. I like having birthdays, my birthday is fine now, it
’
s wonderful now, but you know what?
”
“
No, what.
”
“
It was more fun when I was younger.
”
“
Same here.
”
“
We agree, we agree on so many things, you
’
re such a sensitive person, William, you
’
re sensitive now and I
’
m sure you were sensitive when you were twenty and when you were fifteen and
now you‘
re ten,
William, do you hear me, you
’
re ten years old and it
’
s your birthday, it
’
s your tenth birthday, your very own wonderful tenth birthday, and now guess what, WiUiam, you
’
ll never guess so I
’
ll tell you, I want you to open your sweet eyes because I
’
ve got a present for you.
”
Billy Boy opened his eyes, lay still, blinking.
Trude reached down for the box beside his straight-backed
chair, took out two items, put them behind his back, got up and
walked about to where the giant lay quietly.
“
Hello there,
”
Trude
said.
“
Hi Mister,
”
Billy Boy said. His voice was high now.
“
How are you, William?
”
“
I
’
m neat, Mister, what
’
s your name?
”
“
Why don
’
t you call me Leo?
”
“
Leo?
Leo?
What kind of a name is that?
”
He put his hands to his lips and called,
“
Oh Leo. Oh Leo.
”
Then he laughed.
“
That
’
s what we use instead of butter. Oleo. Oleo. You get it, you get it?
”
He laughed again.
“
Can I have my present now, I bet you got my present behind your back, you can
’
t fool me.
”
“
In a moment, all yours. But first, tell me: who is your President?
”
“
Jayne with a
y
Castelli.
”
“
Jayne Castelli is president?
”
“
Of the fourth grade, yup, yup, yup, she sure is, and stuck up too,
‘
Jayne with a
Y
9
she calls herself.
”
“
I meant of the country, William.
”
“
Oh. Him. Y
’
know, old Ike. Only he
’
s getting out soon. The Pope
’
s gonna be in the White House, soon as what
’
s-his-face gets in. I want my present.
”
Trude brought his left arm from behind his back.
Billy Boy made a face.
“
A stuffed toy? A dopey stuffed bear? I
’
m ten, I don
’
t want any dopey old stuffed old bear.
”
Trude brought his right arm out now.
Billy Boy shrieked—
”
A baseball glove? For me?
”
Trude nodded.
Billy Boy grabbed it, stared.
“
Omigod, omigod,
it
’
s a Stan Musial
”
He rubbed his fingers over the leather.
“
He
’
s your favorite?
”
“
‘
Course.
”
“
More than Pete Rose?
”
Billy Boy
’
s face went blank.
“
I thought Pete Rose was your favorite in baseball and in football Terry Bradshaw?
”
“
Bart Starr;
I never heard of those other guys.
”
“
Or Jimmy Carter?
”
Billy Boy looked blank again.
“
Do you know who Ronald Reagan is, William?
”
“
Bonzo, Bonzo, Bonzo,
”
Billy Boy shrieked,
“
I loved that pitcher, I loved that little ape.
”
“
What does the word
‘
orange
’
mean to you?
”
“
Orange? A color.
”
“
Wonderful. And do you know what these are?
”
Trude
went into his pocket, held something out.
“
A book of matches.
”
“
Do you know how to light one?
”
“
‘
Course.
”
“
Would you like to?
”
Billy Boy nodded, took the matches, opened the cover, carefully pulled one match out, closed the cover, struck the match until it flamed.
“
Perfect.
”
“
Can I blow it out?
”
..
Trude
nodded.
Billy Boy blew.
“
I imagine you
’
ll be having your favorite food for your party, William. Big Macs and Whoppers.
”
“
Whaaaaat?
”
“
Someone told me once you liked them.
”
“
Well they were all wet, Oleo—I
’
m having hamburgs.
”
“
I hope you have a wonderful party, William. Don
’
t get too tired before it starts. Perhaps you better close your eyes and rest now.
”
Billy Boy closed his eyes.
Trude
took the glove and stuffed animal, went back to his chair.
“
Rest,
”
he said again, softer, and he gestured toward Roget in the control room.
The wind sounds grew, leaves scattering along the pavement.
Billy Boy breathed deeply as before.
“
Ten was wonderful,
”
Trude
began again.
“
But nine was better than ten and my seventh birthday was better than my eighth birthday and I
’
ll bet so was yours and five was such fun, I loved being five except that being four was better even, yes it was, yes it was, my fourth birthday was such fun and so is your fourth birthday, today is your fourth birthday,
you are four today
so why don
’
t you open your eyes, Pve got a present for you.
”
Billy Boy opened his eyes, blinked, blinked.
Trude
walked around so he could lode down at him;
Trude
’
s hands were behind his back.
“
Happy birthday, sweet William.
”
“
Not my name.
”
“
It isn
’
t?
”
“
No, no, no.
”
“
Well then, what is?
”
Billy Boy put his hands up to his face and squinted shyly out from between two fingers.
“
Mommy,
”
he whispered.
“
Mommy, she calls me Keef.
”
“
Why Keith?
”
“
‘
Cause,
‘
cause,
‘
cause,
‘
cause,
‘
cause.
”
“
‘
Cause why?
”
Now he closed his fingers over his eyes entirely.
“
‘
Cause Keef is my after name.
”
Then he threw his hands down and said,
“
I wan
’
my present, you said, you said.
”
“
I will. Just tell me what
‘
after name
’
means.
”
“
After after after is what it means. It means after William comes Keef.
”
His baby talk was more pronounced as he got excited.
“
Here
’
s your present,
”
Trude
said, and he pulled out the Stan Musial baseball glove.
Billy Boy looked at it and for a moment it seemed he might cry^
“
Only teasing,
”
Trude
said, and then he held out the stuffed bear.
Billy Boy grabbed it, gave it a hug.
“
Keith?
”
“
Whatty, whatty, whatty?
”
“
Do you know the word
‘
orange
’
?
”
“
‘
Course,
‘
course,
‘
course,
‘
course,
‘
course.
”
“
What does it mean?
”
“
Juice. Mommy gives it to me to drink. Orange is juice, orange is juice.
”
Trude
took out the book of matches now.
“
Do you know what these are?
”
“
No, no, no, no, no.
”
“
You mean you do know but you
’
re afraid of them.
”
Billy Boy kissed the stuffed bear.
“
Yes, yes, Mommy said I might
…
”
He kissed the bear again, hugged it with both arms.
“
‘
Hot
’
Mommy said.
‘
Could hurt Keef.
’
“