“DANCING WITH ERNEST IN THE RUE DE LA MONTAGNE SAINTE GENEVIEVE”

I couldn’t believe my luck. As I entered the dancing club in the Rue de la Montagne Sainte Genevieve, with its plush velvet walls and chandeliers, they were all sitting there against a wall, observing the couples on the dance floor: Jake, Ernest, Galileo and, strangely, Howard, our milkman from childhood. Oddly, I was happier seeing Howard than I was Galileo. But then, that was because Gal, as we called him to his consternation and our delight, could be quite a bore. Often he’d drone on about his most recent invention or idea.

Ernest motioned me over, then stood up and pumped my hand. “Damn good to see you,” he said. Then, quietly: “I was getting a bit bored. Gal’s been telling me about some goddam telescope of his. The man doesn’t know shit about hunting, never even been to Africa for Chrissake, but when it comes to gadgets--”

“Tell me about it. Last time he wanted me to try out his new thermometer. Suggested we go back to my place and he’d insert it you know where.”

“Nonsense,” Ernest said. “It’s a room thermometer, the glass one came a hundred years later.”

“But he said it was for the sake of science. I told him, yeah, right. Science, my…well, you know what I mean. I told him to stick it up his own--”

“It’s nothing kinky.”

“He’s Italian, right?”

“Sure, but that don’t mean all Italian men are pigs. Although…”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna take any chances.”

“Ah, you may be right. Still, forget about it. He’s not a bad guy, you know that.” Ernest said. “Just a bit…funny.”

“I guess.”

“What do you say we get a drink?”

“Sure, let me just say hello to everyone.” I made the rounds. “Gal, hi. What? You brought another invention? Ah, that’s just swell. Why don’t you tell Jake and Howard about it. Jake, whatsup buddy? Yeah, good to see you too. Howard? Man, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I know, didn’t expect to be here myself.” Howard extended a glass bottle towards me. “You want some milk?”

“Uh, Howard, no thanks, gone off it a bit since those days. On to other stuff, if you know what I mean.”

Howard appeared hurt. “Suit yourself, man. It’s 2 percent. Fresh.”

I didn’t want to insult him. He’d always been dependable, never broke a bottle, no matter how cold or icy outside. Each morning you’d find the trusty bottle of milk or two on the doorstep (except once, when he thought he’d won the lottery only to realize he’d been off by a digit). Christmas time, mom and dad plied him with slivovic. Never turning that down, he sulked now at my refusal.

Jovially, I said: “Sure I’ll try it, Howard. Pass it here.” I peeled the thin blue aluminum cap off the glass bottle and took a big gulp, then another.

“Hey, hey, geez, man, leave some for the rest of us,” Howard said, grabbing the bottle back.

“Sorry, just so…good. You sure it’s not full-cream?”

Howard checked the label, but Ernest was getting impatient. “We’re gonna get a real drink, see?”

“Can I come?” Jake whined.

“Damn it, Jake, you can’t follow me everywhere I go. You were a part of my youth. I’ve outgrown you. Moved on to other things, not necessarily better, just different. Nothing personal. Just the way life goes. You’re a created man, an entity in your own right, no one can take that away from you. Why don’t you tell the boys about Brett again.”

“Do I have to? They know the story by heart. Papa”—naturally, we all called him Papa; except for Gal, he inexplicably stuck to Ernest—“I’m sorry, it’s just that…I wanna be part of a different story, I’m tired of that one, of having my…of being impotent for eternity. Just put me into another story, Papa, please, people do it all the time, write a sequel, part two, it’s the rage these days…how about ‘The Sun Also Rises…Again’ or “The Sun Also Rises, Part 2’ or ‘The Sun Also Rises…And Rises and Rises…or ‘The Sun Also Has Risen, The Sun’—you know, a novel where I can make love and live, truly live…like I deserve to…like you have…”

“’The Sun Also Has Risen and Risen and Risen,’” Ernest scoffed. “You leave the writing and the titles to me. Goddamit, why does everyone always think they can do it better? But this, your own character giving you advice, well, hell, if that don’t top it all…I told you once, I told you numerous times, Jake—I don’t do sequels, you know that. Sequels kill an artist. You have to move on to new things. You’re a great character, most characters never become great, they just die a quick death or don’t come alive at all. You should be proud. You’ll always be special to me--you know that—you were my first real character, three-dimensional, likable as hell, unforgettable--”

“I know, Papa, but…please…”

Ernest was unmoved; worse, he’d had enough of pleading. “Listen here, Jake—you keep Gal and Howard company, you hear? You seen Gal’s compass yet?”

“Ten times.”

“Check it out again, it’s quite a thing. We’ll be back in a bit.”

As we walked away I heard Gal asking a forlorn Jake if he’d like to touch again his new geometric and military compass.

“You talking literally or metaphorically? This better not be another of your pornographic innuendos again, Gal,” Jake said. Gal assured him it wasn’t, but Jake remained unconvinced.

“You wanna dance first?” Ernest asked as we walked by the dance floor. I laughed appreciatively. “What, you don’t think I can? Is that it?”

Jesus, what the hell was everyone so damn sensitive about tonight? “No, Papa, it’s not that, but I don’t dance with men. You know that. It’s a matter of principle. More than that--it’s confusing, who leads? ”

“Don’t dance with men? Since when? Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with Gertrude the other day.”

“What do you mean? You joking? Nothing happened between me and Gertrude. Besides, Alice has hawkeyes, you know that. C’mon, quit kidding around. Who wants to see two men whirling on the dance floor? If this were a gay club…different story. But it ain’t.”

“Two men? What the hell you talking about? You’re a fine looking dame. I always said so. C’mon Condi, let’s do the tango.”

As I was just about to tell him to stuff himself, I looked in the mirror behind the bar and scared the hell out of myself. Jesus Christ, he was right: I was Condolleeza Rice, not Hulk Hogan as I’d always thought. That was a bit of a shocker, and I needed some time to get used to the idea.

“What the…but I’m a WWF star. I’m Hulk Hogan.”

Ernest chuckled. “Sure you are, Condi, aren’t we all? Now, let’s dance.”

What the hell; I’d run out of excuses. So, there we were, Ernest and I doing the tango. He wasn’t half bad, a bit clumsy, but he tried hard, you had to give him that. Once or twice, his hand slid a bit low for my liking, and I pulled it back up. As we whisked around the dance floor, now near Jake and Gal (Gal was holding up what I took to be his new compass) and Howard; I overheard Jake saying to Howard, don’t feel bad, all employers are whores, and Howard replying, no, Jake, employers are pimps, employees are whores. I’d never thought of Howard as a milkman-philosopher, but on a night like this, little surprised me anymore.

“Listen, Condi, this Iraq thing--”

“Don’t start, Ernest, you know we’ll never agree.”

“It’s a hell of a mess you guys got us into.”

“It’s for a better world. For democracy.”

“Says who, and whose world? You can’t establish democracy by trampling over dead bodies.”

“Ernest, leave it. You won’t understand. You’re from a different, bygone era. It was all easier then, black and white, easier to see and comprehend.”

“That’s crap. You know how many took the Nazi side then?”

“Listen--we’re talking policies at the highest level. I’m not even at liberty to discuss them with you…or anyone else.”

“Bullshit. I liked it better when women stayed in the kitchen and out of politics.”

“I know you did, but those days are long gone. It’s time for old-fashioned guys like you to don an apron and whip up some chopsuey.”

I yelped as he stepped on my foot. His mood turned surly. “Was that an accident?”

“Maybe. Either way, I don’t feel bad about it,” he quipped.

I walked off. “Ok, I’ve had enough.”

“Don’t be sore. Let me at least get you that drink.”

“Get me a beer then. No daiquiris and no rum. Or—make it a glass of white wine.”

I sat down next to the guys in the middle of a conversation.

“I shouldn’t have recanted,” Gal said, head low.

“C’mon, Gal, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jake said.

“Bruno never did.”

“Bruno was burned at the stake,” Howard said. “They made a human sausage outta him. What good did that do? I would’ve done the same thing.”

“You’re a milkman, Howard, what do you know of heroism and immortality and doing the right thing? You’re happy if you don’t spill any milk on your rounds.”

“No need to get personal, Gal. I’m just trying to make you feel better. You think milkmen don’t have feelings? Well, you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

“Sorry Howard, I know you’re trying to help. But…Bruno’s the real hero. Not me. He’s the one that should be in history books, not me.”

“You were the first to say the earth revolves around the sun,” Jake said.

“I wasn’t, that was Copernicus, and before that, Aristarchus.”

“But you invented the telescope.”

“That was some Dutch guy. I merely improved it.”

“But what about that fancy thermometer of yours? Or longitude”—

“Longitude, huh. That also wasn’t me.”

“Well, whatever—the compass, pet rock, who cares, the point is you came up with some useful inventions. Speaking of which, why don’t you show us how that compass of yours works again,” Jake said. “A real thing of beauty. I’d love to see it. Howard? Condi?”

“Yeah, definitely,” I said.

“I’m a little tired, besides I’ve seen it before,” Howard said before I elbowed him. “On second thought, yeah, Gal, you mind?”

“It’s no use, I’m a ruse, a coward, a nobody. Look at me, I can’t even get a dancing partner. Condi, would you dance with me?”

“What? Now? Jesus, Gal, I’ve just been dancing with Ernest.” Howard and Jake flashed me pleading glances. “I’m tired.”

“See what I mean?” Gal said. “But you’d dance with Bruno, right? Or Copernicus.”

“No, I wouldn’t. Not tonight.”

“I bet. What about my enemy--the Pope? Would you dance with him?”

“Which Pope, yours or the new guy?”

“New guy scares me,” Howard said. “Looks like a rottweiler. Has those beady eyes, too close together, long pointed nose, probably hairy too. Don’t know about you guys--scares the hell outta me.”

“All those Popes look a bit funny, kinda similar, like they make ‘em outta wax or something’,” Jake said.

“Either one,” Gal said, unswayed. “It don’t matter.”

“I can’t imagine Urban or the Panzer Pope being much of dancers, not in those silly outfits anyway, they’d trip over themselves, pointy hats falling off,” I said.

“That’s not the point,” Gal said.

“Let’s leave it,” Jake said. “It’s been a rough night for all of us. You and Ernest been arguing again?”

“Yeah,” I said. “So what else is new?”

“That’s why he likes me, I think,” Jake said. “Creations don’t argue back. At best they plead, maybe even haunt a bit, but they don’t argue.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“You really want to see my geometric and military compass Condi?” a suddenly revived Gal asked.

“Not now Gal.”

I noticed a few women glowering at me from the other side. I’d always thought for some reason they disliked me or found me unattractive, but now, as Condi, I knew better: they were jealous. I’d transgressed the house rules; I should’ve been sitting with them, aloof, waiting for one of the men to ask me to dance.

“Jesus, just take a look at some of those sluts over there,” I said disdainfully, my newfound feminine feelings getting the better of me. “Look at the one with all that makeup in the miniskirt.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing all night,” said Jake appreciatively.

“That’s not what I mean,” I said, storming to the ladies’. Behind I heard chuckling, and Gal saying, women, and Jake, don’t I know it. I turned and let them have it. But they just sat there, smiling, looking at each other, then at me, and the more they smiled, the angrier I became.

I felt Ernest’s hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, Condi. That time of the month?”

That did it. I threw my drink at Ernest who at the last moment ducked. Then I walked off.

“See you next week?” Ernest yelled.

I was just about to say I’d never be coming back, but I knew better, and said meekly. “See you next week.”

Ernest smiled that all-knowing smile and said: “Condi, before you go, let me just say a couple a things: Iraq was a mistake; you’re a fine dancer; stay away from Gertrude; and if you see Hogan, give him my regards. Oh, and ask him who his hairdresser is, would ya, I’m looking for a new look. Something chic. Tres chic.”

Then he turned to the guys, and said, “Gal, do me a favor, will ya? Tell me again about that fancy telescope of yours. I’m not as sharp as I used to be, I guess.”

A beaming Galileo looked up and said: “Sure, Ernest, I’d love to.”

Copyright David G. Hochman 2005