Franny
and Zooey
[extract]
Zooey
put a hand on each side of the washbowl and leaned his chest forward a trifle,
his eyes on the general background of enamel. For all his slightness of body,
he looked at that moment ready and able to push the washbowl straight through
the floor. “The Four Great Vows,” he said, and, with rancor, closed his eyes.
“However innumerable beings are, I vow to save them; however inexhaustible the
passions are, I vow to extinguish them; however immeasurable the Dharmas are, I
vow to master them; however incomparable the Buddha-truth is, I vow to attain
it.’ Yay, team. I know I can do it. Just put me in, coach.” His eyes stayed
closed. “My God, I’ve been mumbling that under my breath three meals a day
every day of my life since I was ten. I can’t eat unless I say it. I tried
skipping it once when I was having a lunch with Le Sage. I gagged on a goddam
cherrystone clam, doing it.” He opened his eyes, frowned, but kept his peculiar
stance. “How ‘bout getting out of here, now, Bessie?” he said. “I mean it.
Lemme finish my goddam ablutions in peace, please.” His eyes closed again, and
he appeared ready to have another try at pushing the washbowl through the
floor. Even though his head was slightly down, a considerable amount of blood
had flowed out of his face.
“I
wish you’d get married,” Mrs. Glass said, abruptly, wistfully.
Everyone
in the Glass family-Zooey certainly not last was familiar with this sort of
non-sequitur from Mrs. Glass. It bloomed best, most sublimely, in the middle of
an emotional [240] flareup of just this kind. This time, it caught Zooey very
much off guard, however. He gave an explosive sound, mostly through the nose,
of either laughter or the opposite of laughter. Mrs. Glass quickly and
anxiously leaned forward to see which it was. It was laughter, more or less,
and she sat back, relieved. “Well, I do,” she insisted. “Why don’t you?”
Relaxing
his stance, Zooey took a folded linen handkerchief from his hip pocket, flipped
it open, then used it to blow his nose once, twice, three times. He put away
the handkerchief, saying, “I like to ride in trains too much. You never get to
sit next to the window any more when you’re married.”
“That’s
no reason!”
“It’s
a perfect reason. Go away, Bessie. Leave me in peace in here. Why don’t you go
for a nice elevator ride? You’re going to burn your fingers, incidentally, if
you don’t put out that goddam cigarette.”
J.
D. Salinger.
