Fall and Rise by Stephen Dixon Page A

this time. Studying a wall hanging, snapping her wedding band, looking at the food, biting a live cuticle. Now she says “Then go home if you feel you don’t belong here and work it out some other day. That’s what I’d do,” and picking what I suppose is the chewed cuticle off her tongue, she touches my shoulder for me to step aside. I do and she passes.
    â€œDiana,” I say, going over to her while looking at my shoulder to see if the cuticle was left there. It wasn’t, or fell off, and Diana’s introducing a Czechoslovak novelist to Gurygenin. Now his work I like and I wouldn’t mind talking to him. “Pardon me,” I say to the men. “I don’t mean to bust this up, but may I plunder Diana for a moment and then maybe return with her?”
    â€œSure,” the Czech says, “go ahead. But don’t—what did he say?—plunder her to the point of making it not possible for her to come back to us to stay. This poet man. He may not have something to say with me and then I’d be bored to stand here.”
    â€œSpeak English,” Gurygenin tells him. “We’re among friends.”
    I take Diana by the arm and walk her to a free corner. “You needn’t explain,” she says. “I overheard enough of what you said to Sally and another guest told me much of the rest. What’s wrong with you? These are nice people. Intelligent, some of them gifted, and my friends. You’re my friend also, so I’m trying my best not to say that if you want to stay my friend, as well as at the party, and I’m probably going too far with that to a friend, don’t insult anyone else here to his or anyone else’s face. I also think you’ve had plenty to drink already, and now I know I’m going too far with a friend, but okay?” and takes the glass from my hand.
    â€œI am feeling a bit too self-pitying for one jerk tonight and deservedly disliked. In a way it’s related to you-know-who.”
    â€œOh please. Let me go back to my friends.”
    â€œYou know so many people. I don’t know how you do it.”
    â€œI work at it, not against. Take a lesson from me. That’s what my mother said to me when I was a wearisome kid and what I’m passing on to you. Be tolerant, be kind, be warm, and if others can’t get along with you, they’ll be in the wrong. Now as far as Helene’s concerned—”
    â€œFrom what I can tell, just someone like her is what I meant, but because of some ineluctable eternal puke in my nature I can never get. Would I try to be getting away with too much if I said can’t we just say I’m drunk and be done with it and start anew? Nah, because I know I’ve screwed it up entirely with you and all your friends, haven’t I?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know. And you haven’t been listening. And didn’t we run through this before? And why make everything sound worse by allying yourself with puke and the eternity? And are you sure you used ineluctable right? And these days everyone in everything has to settle for less. And really, come nearer…you’re behaving so intemperately besides nonsensically besides in the most mawkish pea-brained way that I don’t know if I care anymore. If it’ll make you feel any better, and this will be my last heroic act, sleep it off in the bedroom till the party’s over, though keep half the bed free for the cat, and maybe we should forget about eating Chinese.”
    â€œNo, got to go.” I kiss her hand, start to leave. “Hot fool, hot fool,” I say, pushing through.
    â€œDan,” she says behind me. I’m out the door. Collect my umbrella and coat and put it on and umbrella under my arm and wait for her a few seconds I’m not sure what for and go downstairs. Young man just buzzed-in and running upstairs says “Party breaking up so fast?” and I say “An international