Jonathan Lethem

An Old Friend

"An old friend, Abby."
"Right, old friend, dinner, I forgot."
"Abby." Once upon a time.
"Never mind."
"Try harder, Abby."
"I've been working."
"Uh?"
"Okay, Abby."
"I never did."
"I'll call -"
"Call my cellphone."
"Dylan?"
"Yes?"
"You're the music guy - right?"
"Right."
"Jared's just ending a call."
Jared frowned. "The music guy."
Jared opened his eyes.
"What's it called?"
"Start again with black people. Just kidding, man."
"Never saw it."
"Everything's great, Dylan."
"Mike, I need Dylan's agent right now."
"Don't screw me, man."
Abby was at school.
"How old?"
"I can call -"
"You're late!" said Francesca.
"Dylan," said my father.
"Oh, you won't have time," said Francesca.
"We'll talk there if Zelmo lets us get in a word."
"Zelmo said meet at the Green Room."
Abraham just shook his head.
"This man is the only one your father respects," whispered Francesca.
The bohemian demimonde, as Abraham called it. "Him," whispered Francesca. It was my first glimpse of the man Francesca had called Zelmo the Chair.
"Francesca and Abraham, your story touches me." Zelmo waved his hand.
"Darling," said Francesca to Abraham. "That poor man down the street, Abe." Abraham nodded.
"Your old friend Mingus - you remember his father, Barry? Your friend Mingus was found. Only your father."
My father had wandered off to the men's room. I wondered if the ring still worked, and if it did whether its powers had changed again. I'd never dared ask.
"Uh, music."
"Ah," said Abraham. "There's plenty of time."
I wondered if he'd be right to wonder.
"Forget it, if you want," said Zelmo. "Katha, Katha, Katha."
"I guess, if you're a dog."
"Dylan."
"Uh?"
Katha made a couple of calls and left the room. "If Abby's your beautiful black girlfriend, yeah."
"Are you in college, Arthur?"
I wondered if he'd been inside a student's dorm room in his time here - probably not.
"Enjoy your time here, Arthur."
"What's troll music?" said Arthur.
"Ho, snap," said Arthur.
"Hey, man," said Arthur, getting with the joke now.
I called myself Running Crab.
I never called Lucinda Hoekke again.
"Dylan Ebdus."
"Dylan from Camden?"
"Right."
Euclid asked.
"Mostly music stuff."
"Meeting an old friend." Euclid goggled. Francesca slept in.
"You remember Dylan?"
"Henry's dad keeps the place," said Arthur.
Arthur mused on this. Arthur laughed.
"Junior?"
"Sure," said Arthur.
"I'll check them out some other time, man."
"Here," said Arthur.
I thought of calling home, trying for Abby.
"Ebdus."
"Wedding ring."
"Arthur couldn't come," I said, as if Arthur were the unfaithful one.
"With Arthur."
"My old man," said Mingus. "Postage stamps, man."

* * *

unpublished, 2003