All Gone

WRONG WORDS

“So we’ve come right down to this,” I say.

“Right down to it,” she says.

“Then I’m going.”

“Please do.”

“You were always so polite.”

“Please isn’t a dirty word, as we used to say.”

“We used to say ‘is not, is not.’ Anyway, I’m on my way.”

I try opening the door.

“The door’s locked,” I say.

“Unlock it.”

“I mean the fucking catch in the middle of the damn lock’s jammed.”

“You know I don’t like the word damn.”

“The epithet, don’t you mean?”

“The expletive’s more like it.”

“Expletive is really what I meant instead of epithet.”

“Though it could also be epithet, I think. I’m sorry. I’m not sure.”

“You don’t mean ‘not quite sure’?”

“Just not sure.”

“But expletive we’re both quite or just sure about, correct?”

“At least I am.”

“Then the expletive damn.”

“No, epithet I think is more precise.”

“One or the other: make up your mind.”

“I don’t think my choice has to be as decisive as that.”

“I’m sure you meant definitive then.”

“What I meant was that there are other synonyms for the words expletive and epithet. Oath, for instance.”

“Oath, indeed,” I say.

“I meant for the word expletive or epithet — the noun.”

“Expletive or epithet can also be adjectives or exclamations.”

“Damn can, not expletive, oath or epithet. And I’m not even sure if damn can be an adjective. But foul invective’s another nounal synonym I’m thinking of for oath. And cuss word, sailor’s blessing — plenty of them. Profanity also comes to mind.”

“My dear.”

“To me now that sounds like a profanity — your ‘my dear.’”

“I was only being satirical. No, satirical isn’t the word.”

“You’re not thinking of ironic?”

“Caricatural — that’s the word.”

“Of who?”

“If caricatural’s the right word.”

“Even if it isn’t, who were you being it of?”

“Ridiculous is the word,” I say. “Though not quite ridiculous, but ridiculing. Though that doesn’t sound like the right word either. Help me. What’s the word I was being of people before?”

“Which people? That was my question before in slightly different words.”

“You mean ‘what people,’ though actually either of our terms could work. But I meant of people who say damn is a profane word. With that certain pinch-nosed, upper-crust, highfalutin accent. You know — the ‘my dear’ kind of people. ‘Fancy that, my dear. Nasty weather out, my dear.’”

“Oh, nasty weather in?”

“Nasty weather outside, I meant. But out is acceptable.”

“Inacceptable.”

“Unacceptable.”

“Out isn’t acceptable for the word outside. You either say ‘nasty weather outside’ or just ‘nasty weather.’ If the people you’re saying either of these to are inside or outside, they’ll know what you mean when you say ‘nasty weather,’ as the weather can’t be nasty inside unless there’s a huge hole in the roof or no roof. And if there is no roof or a very big hole in the roof, then I’m sure their main concern wouldn’t be the nasty weather but in getting that roof repaired and possibly a place to sleep that night or for as many nights as it takes to get that roof repaired.”

“I was saying those expressions with the ‘my dear’ in them before like a person I’m not — that’s all.”

‘“As a person I’m not.’”

“No, you’re wrong on that. Absolutely. Maybe I was saying ‘my dear’ such as a person I’m not, but definitely not as a person I’m not.”

“Absolutely? Definitely?”

“Almost absolutely or definitely.”

“Well I think you’re wrong,” she says.

“You’re quite sure, my dear?”

“Quite.”

“Like a person like that. That’s all I meant. Like someone who uses the word quite just like you just did.”

“You mean ‘such as a person such as’ or ‘as a person such as’ or ‘such as a person as that.’”

“Sure about all that?”

“Not quite sure. Not at all. But you were going, did I hear you say?”

“You did. I was going when I found the door was locked. Not locked, I later found, but the hold-and-release catch in the lock was jammed.”

“You also found the door, am I right?”

“I didn’t have to find the door. Standing anywhere in your house I know instinctively where’s the door.”

“You mean ‘where the door is’?”

“I know instinctively where your door is, yes.”

“And ‘instinctively.’ You don’t mean ‘intuitively’ perhaps?”

“Intuitively and automatically and the rest of those and you be fucking damned let me add.”

“You know I don’t like the profanity damn.”

“I said damned.”

“That too.”

“Not ‘that also’?”

“Also or too, either one. You know what I don’t like though.”

“I know quite well what you don’t like, my dear, and I couldn’t give a goddamn.”

“Please go,” she says.

“Nor do I like or appreciate your pleases. They don’t mean anything.”

“Then just go.”

“That’s better. But your hold-and-release catch, if it is called that, in your rim lock, and I’m sure it’s called that, is jammed and the door won’t open.”

“Then try and fix it.”

“I can’t fix it. And if you can’t fix it or find some way to release that catch immediately, I’m going to kick down your door.”

“If that’s the quickest way to get you out of here, then please do.”

“I please will.”

“Will you please go?”

I kick the door lock with my heel a few times. The catch spring breaks and the door swings open.

“I’m leaving,” I say.

“Good riddance.”

“You don’t mean ‘goodbye’?”

“I mean good riddance and goodbye and all the other vale-dictums, leave-partings and fare-thee-wells.”

“You don’t mean valedictions and farewells?”

“I meant and mean them all. Goodbye, good riddance, goodnight forever, ex-partner, and if I never see you again may that be time enough.”

“You don’t mean ‘If I never see you again may that be soon enough’?”

“I mean something like that and much more.”

“Well, you know — and I think I can say that ‘you know’ even if I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you before — I’m kind of glad to be rid of you too.”

“You haven’t quite rid yourself of me yet.”

“Once I leave this house, I mean.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“That’s what I meant.”

She turns her back to me.

“You’ve nothing more to say?” I say.

She shuts the door.

“Your door can’t lock,” I say. “I said your door can’t lock. Your door doesn’t lock. You’ll have to get the door fixed if you want it to lock. I mean, the door lock fixed if you want the lock to lock. Or just another rim lock put on, which means your door fixed if you want your door to lock. Or if I kicked your door too hard when I broke the lock and by doing so also broke your door, then both your door and lock fixed if you want your door with this lock to lock.”

She throws open the door and comes at me with a candlestick. Not “comes at me,” but races toward me with the candlestick. Not “races toward me,” but it’s too late as the candlestick comes down on my head. Not “comes down,” but came down and maybe the candlestick came down on my head many times or came many times down on my head or just came down many times on my head, for when I did come to or out of it or out of unconsciousness as it can also be said, I was on a bed in a hospital room, a bandage around my head. And I was trying to remember, so I could make sure I still had the power or ability or facility or faculty or capacity or capability or whatever it is of memory, what it was or why or how I got to this hospital in the first place. What it was about me that was instrumental or whatever the word is that helped bring me here, just so I won’t do it again.