you see, I'll have to clarify the situation Mr. Smith. I mean is it for the payoff."
"I beg your pardon. Do I have to sue you and this bank for aspersion."
"But a cheque this size for cash, well I'm supposed to clarify."
"How dare you."
"I could lose my job. This is an awful lot of money."
"You suggesting that I am attempting to commit fraud."
"No sir."
"Then instantly fulfil the sum of that cheque, in brand new notes."
"Mr. Smith I know you must be nervous over being sued. I mean supposing there was some miscalculation in your account, sir."
"Are you suggesting errors, that the balance forward is a wrong number. And what do you mean by sued and payoff/* "You're putting words into my mouth. Only want to verify the clarification of balance for your convenience."
"My convenience is that you answer this cheque in cash instantly or I shall take steps to deal with your first aspersions. Cast irresponsibly on my character."
"I'll do just as you say. I'm new at this branch. I mean anyone can lose control and attack."
Mr. Cheer like employees everywhere is uttering irrelevancies. Perspiration on his brow now dripping on the banknotes. Fingers peeling up their edges, knuckles banging the marble, making one little neat pile next to another.
"You want to count this yourself, Mr. Smith."
"I measure by eye. Put one more on that pile you'll be right."
"Better count this again."
Smith pressed from behind by the mammoth aggressive breasts. Life is too fast to bother to turn and say madam please don't splash those on me. Close this account down with a shattering clang. Nervous being sued. Of course I'm nervous being sued. My mind is hair raising.
"Mr. Smith, youVe got some eye, you're right, a note short."
"Just slide diem in this bag. Must rush."
Making sure glass was not in front of his forward motion, George Smith left the bank and turned down the elegant street recently planted with baby trees. Suddenly finding his position blocked by a fat lady, he lowered his head and ran. At the corner hailing a taxi. Giving the driver a designation to go round and round the park. Between my feet a bag of money. For some it grows on trees. Glad I've got such a big forest.
George Smith sat back on the leather, heartily sorry for various sins. One's life now mercantile might suddenly become marine. My sad unfinished tomb. With winter on the way. Still hoisting up the great blocks of marble. They lock together like a puzzle.
Yellow taxi carrying George Smith on its humming rires through the park. By bridle paths under bridges. Four young men in lipstick on top of a rock smiling. Little kids rolling a watermelon down a hill. Rowboats and water birds on the sunny lake. Lurking bodies in the bushes. Showing only a sign of a hand, a face and sometimes a more naughty thing. Each elegant back I see strolling, I think of Her Majesty. And it's just another empty face. While my hip bones ache with fear.
"Mister I'm getting nervous driving around this park. You got to give me a destination. I got to go somewhere. Too much responsibility going nowhere."
"I'll give you an address."
"Thanks a lot."
Smith taking a little black book. Peel back the pages, torn, worn and dirty. Decipher a scribble near this great letter T. For Tomson. She reared up in the dark. Shouted, you don't even know where I live. I took the address down. And since. Have been too terrified to go. Pull up my socks now. Steam south and west.
"Driver go to this address."
"On the paper."
"Yes."
"Glad to."
Down a hill under shady trees. Up to traffic lights and across the avenue. Past entrances that lead to the rapid transit. Something is wrong. I twitch and fear. Would like to have a friend. Just now and have none. At best, Bonniface is a crazy companion. The rest of my life I would stay with Miss Tomson. Near all her chill blue beauty. Threading our way through the throng of opportunists. And hand in hand take one gigantic leap together and wake up in the next world. Wearing red underwear.
"Driver stop."
At a street corner. Smith reaching through the window for an afternoon newspaper. Slipping out a coin.
"O.K. Driver, on, please."
Folding open the paper. A glance across the front page. At the bottom a picture and a headline.
ENGINEER SUES TOMB BUILDING FINANCIER OVER SOCK IN SUBWAY.
A summons was issued today against Mr. George Smith formerly of 33 Golf Street and removed