The Second Coming

For a fact, the Ninth Symphony was one of the finer things. On the other hand, Lewis’s proposal was so demented he had to laugh: he and this solemn poet-golf-pro music lover listening to the Ode to Joy of an afternoon in old Carolina.
    â€œYou want to know what I’ve decided over the years, Will?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’ve decided the worst thing that can happen to a man is to lose his heritage.”
    What heritage? Tidewater unbeliever who had read Dante six times for the structure, could draw the circles of hell, the platforms of purgatory, and the rose of heaven? When you came down to it, Lewis took Erich Fromm more seriously than God, Dante, or Virginia. Was this not madness pure and simple, to come from Tidewater Virginia, read about Dante and God, read the terza rima aloud with such admiration that tears came to his eyes—and top it off with Erich Fromm?
    â€œI got to get back to the party.” And then to Kitty’s ass. “I promised Marion to get Leslie married up proper.”
    â€œYes. What a lovely girl. That reminds me. This may make you laugh but it’s something I promised Marion.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œBefore she died Marion asked me to tell you something.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œFunny she wouldn’t tell you. You and Marion didn’t communicate much, did you?”
    â€œNo, we didn’t communicate much. We had what you call a communication breakdown.”
    Lewis laughed, himself again despite himself. “Marriage is hell, ain’t it? Cindy is a wonderful wife but she hasn’t grown.”
    â€œThat’s too bad.” Grown to what? “What was it you were supposed to tell me?”
    â€œOh, Marion said: just make sure he gets to the wedding and all, that if he wants to pull one of his little fade-outs, she’s not going to be there to cover for you.” Lewis laughed. “She knew you pretty well, Will.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI told her, shit, Will will be there, don’t worry about it.”
    â€œYou didn’t say shit to Marion.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œYou won’t come down later to crack a bottle and listen to some music? I just got the whole Ring.”
    â€œNo.” Jesus, no.
    â€œOr shoot doves. Or sit in the cave. Or whatever.”
    â€œThe cave? Shoot doves?” A strange thought flew into his head. He looked at Lewis. “Okay. I will.”
    After Lewis left, he stood for a moment looking down at the Greener. For the second time in a week, he remembered a movie actor he had only heard of once. No, he didn’t even remember the actor. He remembered his father remember the actor as they were driving in Hollywood in 1950. After the Georgia hunt they had gone West. At the end of the continent they found themselves driving down Sunset Boulevard in his father’s big black 4-hole Dynaflow Buick. His father, who had not spoken for a thousand miles, said: “You see that corner?” “Yes sir.” “Once I was here before.” “Is that right?” “I was here for the Olympics of 1932. On that corner I saw an actor by the name of Ross Alexander. It was before his death.” “Is that so?” “One night he was giving a party at his house. In the middle of the party he got up and said I think I’ll go outside and shoot a duck. No one thought anything of this announcement. He went outside to the garage and shot himself. No one thought much of that either. Similar events were occurring in Rome in 450 before its sack by the Vandals.” “Is that right?”
    Will Barrett snapped the leather case of the Greener and put it away in the closet behind the Electrolux.
    5
    â€œWhat a wonderful person your wife was,” said Kitty.
    â€œYes, she was.”
    They were watching his daughter Leslie as she talked with Mr. Arnold from the nursing home. Despite his stroke he could get around with a walker. One fierce eye gazed around the room under a small bald head white as an onion. One side of his face was shut down. Eyelid, cheek, lip fell like a curtain.
    â€œMarion was a saint in this world,” said Kitty.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you were so wonderful with her. I’ve seen you pushing her in the A & P, helping her in and out of the car.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œIf she hadn’t been so heavy, she would have been a lovely