Fall and Rise Read Online Free

lunch one of these days, she’ll say, when she’s not so bogged down with the spring list and already another dozen authors for next fall, and I head for Diana’s building, rain still thin, wondering what paperback house took my book, which should do me some good in placing future manuscripts, someone recumbent in an empty refrigerator carton in the entrance of a closed sandal shop, around the corner, up her stoop, bell at the top, voice says “Yes?” and I say “Dan Krin” and there’s a pause, static crack, “Excuse me, I’m not used to this elaborate set,” and I’m buzzed in. I keep the door open with my foot, shake out and close the umbrella, start unbuttoning my coat as I climb the first flight. Have to pee. Don’t run or think about it. “Hello.” Diana, staring down the stairwell. “Hi,” I say, putting my glasses into the holder inside my pants pocket and she says “Oh, it’s you. Ringer who rung you in said it was my niece Andy. She didn’t come in with you?” “No.” “You’re one of the first. Come on up. Of course come on up. And of course you’re coming up. Still, you, of all people, Daniel, excluding Andy, I thought would come sooner. Shame on you both and I hope we get time to talk.” “Funny, but that’s what I was thinking just before, though not about Andy,” as I round the landing and start up the next flight. “How you doing?” and she says “Unready, and you?” “Couldn’t be better. But guess what I just saw in the Eighth Street Bookshop window?” and she doesn’t say “What?” Maybe she didn’t hear me. I’m now on her floor. Her door’s open. People chatting inside. Coatrack with three coats and a hat. Pair of man’s work-boots on the other tenant’s doormat. “Same boots were there the last time I was here,” and she says “They’re there permanently to scare off undesirable trespassers, and extra extra-large. He’s petite.” “Strange.” Rubbers and rubber rainboots and umbrella by her door. She’s staring at me. Man in her apartment saying “Say it again, Jane, and this time I swear by what’s his name in heaven I’ll laugh.” Still staring at me. Nodding approvingly. Wry smile arising. She’s about to give me a compliment. I’m about to deflect and if possible squelch it. I look over my shoulder. “What are you looking at?” she says. “Nobody I guess. Thought maybe someone who you were, for what were those ‘my isn’t it nice oh boy’ nods and look for?” “You of course, if you have to ask.”
    â€œTelephone, Dee,” a woman says from the door. Attractive, blackhaired, shiny black dress with several silver chains of various widths around her waist and neck. Bracelets, fingers full of rings.
    â€œIs it an accent?”
    â€œPronouncedly Slavic.”
    â€œHave him—no, I should take care of it.”
    â€œYou’re busy. I speak the lingua messenger. Have him what?”
    â€œCibette, this is Dan—Tell him the address and directions here right up to the fourth floor and where we’re situated in relation to the top step, and just to come, you hear—no excuses, but speak extra intelligibly and have him repeat everything back.” Cibette goes inside. “Some of the newer émigrés. So bright and talented. But the language is such a problem, they get lost or are spooked by our subways and have no money for cabs, besides getting cheated by them. I should have spoken to him. But you, that’s who. Marble of surprises, you look practically impeccable. Or does that sound incredibly mean? It does suddenly to me.”
    â€œNo. You mean, well, that you’ve never seen me out of my bathing suit, bathrobe, assorted worn-down T-shirts and jeans. But wait’ll I take off my coat. Almost