She was sitting down with
The Good Earth
in front of her. She put it aside the moment she made her decision, got up and went to the closet where her hats were perched on things that looked like huge wooden collar-buttons. She took two hats, tried on both of them, and went back to the closet and took out a third, which she kept on. Gloves, purse, cigarette extinguished, and she was ready to go.
The car was parked outside. She got in and drove the few blocks to the block in which Watterson lived. When she came to his house she drove right past without changing her speed. Somehow—not today. She had a hunch. “If my foot had eased its pressure on the accelerator I’d have gone in. But it didn’t, so, not today.” She went to the movies—dear George Arliss, in “The Millionaire.” “I suppose that’s passing up an opportunity,” she said to herself, thinking of Watterson, and enjoyed it over and over again.
• • •
“Do you want some coffee? I made some coffee if you can stand it,” said Eddie.
“Huh?” said Gloria. “Oh. Eddie. Hello, Eddie darling.”
“Hello, sweet. How about some coffee?”
“I’ll make it. Just give me a minute to wake up.”
“You don’t have to make it. It’s made. All you have to do is drink it.”
“Oh, thank you.” She sat up in bed and reached with both hands for the cup and saucer. She drank some. “Good,” she said. “You make this?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Eddie.
He sat down easy on the bed so he would not jounce it and cause her to spill the coffee. “Did you have a good sleep?”
“Mm. But marvelous,” she said. Then: “What about you? Where did you sleep? My beamish boy.”
“Right here.”
“Where ‘right here’?” she repeated.
“There. On the chair.”
“There, there, under the chair. Run, run, get the gun,” she said. “No, where did you sleep, Baby?”
“The chair, I told you.”
“You couldn’t. With those legs? You couldn’t sleep in any chair with those legs. What did you do with your legs?”
“I didn’t do anything with them. I just put my fanny deep in the chair, and my legs—I don’t know. Extended. They extended in a, uh, southwesterly direction and I went to sleep and my legs went to sleep.”
“Ooh, you must feel like the wrath of God. Are you stiff?”
“No, as a matter of fact I feel fine. I was so tired when I went to sleep. I read a while after you dropped off, and I went to sleep with the light on. I woke up I guess around three or four and doused the light and got up and got an overcoat. Reminds me. You know that fur coat you came here in Sunday. It’s still in my closet. You better haul off and do something about it. Take it back where you got it, will you?”
She seemed to think about it.
“Will you?” he said. “It’s none of my business, Gloria, and what you do is—as I just said, it’s none of my business, only I wish you’d return that coat. That’s the kind of a fast one that—maybe you had every reason in the world to take it at the time, but you can’t keep a coat like that, that cost four or five hundred dollars or more.”
“Four or five
thousand.”
“Jesus! All the more reason. My God, Baby, a coat like that, that kind of money, they insure those things. The first thing you know they’ll have detectives parked on our doorstep.”
“I doubt it. I imagine I could keep that coat as long as I wanted to.”
Eddie looked at her but not long. He stood up. “Do you want some more coffee? There is more if you want it.”
“You don’t like that, do you?”
“What difference does it make whether I like it or not? I told you what I thought. I have no say over you.”
“You could have. Come here,” she said. She held up her hands. He sat on the bed again. She put her arms around his head and held him to her bosom. “Oh, you don’t know what I’d do for you, my precious darling. You’re all I have, Eddie. Eddie, you’re afraid of me. I’m no good, Eddie. I know I’m no good, but I could be good for you, Eddie, Eddie, my darling. Oh. Here. One second, darling. One second. My baby. My baby that needs a haircut. Ah, my—
What’s that!”
“Phone,” he said.
“Answer it. It’s bad luck not to answer it.”
“I never heard that.”
“It is. Go on, darling, answer it.”
“Hello,” he said into the telephone. “What? Yes. Speaking.” Pause.
“Why, you son of a—” He slammed the phone into its cradle. “The Bush Brothers Hand Laundry. The bastards.”
“Is that the laundry you owe the money to?”
“Oh, God. Maybe it is. I forgot the name of that one. I don’t think I ever did know it. No, it couldn’t be the same one. The Bush Brothers were soliciting new work, so that’s not the laundry that has my stuff.
They
don’t want any new work. I want you.”
“Do you? Here I am. Can anybody see us from those windows over there?”
“They might. I’ll get it. I’ll do it.”
“I ought to get up.”
“No, don’t.”
“I’ll have a child.”
“Don’t you want a child?”
“Yes, very much. But, all right.”
He sat up again and looked away. He made his gesture of shooting a foul in basketball, but with his fists clenched. “No,” he said.
“It’s all right, Eddie,” she said. “It’s all right, darling.”
“No,” he said. “No, it isn’t. It’s anything
but
all right.”
“I’m clean. You needn’t worry about that, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“Oh, I know. I wasn’t thinking that.”
“You used to think it. Didn’t you?”
“A long time ago. Before I knew you.”
“I’d never do that to you.”
“I know. I don’t think that any more. That’s not what I’m thinking now.”
“Don’t you love me? Do you love Norma?”
“Nope.”
“Have you told her you love her?”
“Once or twice.”
“Does she love you?”
“No. I don’t think so. Maybe.”
“You’re not sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure. She doesn’t love me. No, it hasn’t anything to do with Norma. I love you.”
She touched his shoulder. “I know. And I love you. The only one I ever did love, and the only one that ever loved me.”
“I doubt that. Aw, you’re
crazy.”
“No. I know. I know what it is even if you don’t. Or maybe you do know and won’t say it. It’s because I’ve stayed with so many men that you think—”
“Don’t talk. Don’t say anything.”
“All right,” she said, and was silent, as was Eddie. Then she went on: “If you didn’t know I’d stayed with so many men would you love me?”
“I do love you.”
“But it would be different, wouldn’t it? Of course. It’s stupid of me to ask you that. But will you answer this truthfully? If you had just met me, without knowing a thing about me, what would you think of me?”
“How do you mean? There isn’t a better-looking girl in this town, is my honest opinion. Your face, and you have a beautiful build.” He stopped. She was staring ahead, not listening to him.
Despair.
“What are you thinking?” he said.
“Mm?”
“What are you thinking about so seriously?”
“It’s all right with you now, isn’t it? You’ll be all right if I get up now, won’t you? I mean and get dressed. Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Because I know about men when they get excited and nothing happens. I wouldn’t do that, either. If it’s just a question of—oh, I don’t know. I don’t know how to talk to you now, Eddie. If you’re going to be uncomfortable the rest of the day because we started something and didn’t finish it, then let’s finish it.”
“Not that way I won’t. I don’t even feel like it now.”
“No, neither do I, but I don’t want you to feel as if you’d been pulled through a wringer.”
“I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”
“Then I guess I’ll get up and take a shower.”
“I’ll get you a clean towel. I have one.”
“All right.”
“Here, I’ll get you my bathrobe,” he said, and stopped on his way to the closet. “The melancholy Dane has come, the saddest of the year.” He smiled at her.
“What made you say that?”
“Damned if I know.”
“What was it? ‘The melancholy
Dane
has come, the saddest of the year.’ Did that have any special meaning?”
“No, not a bit. I just thought of myself as melancholy, and you as melancholy, and melancholy made me think of the melancholy Dane, and then I got melancholy Dane mixed up. The melancholy Dane has come, the saddest of the year. It’s nothing. I get rhythms and words mixed. The melancholy Dane has come, the saddest of the year. You used to come at nine o’clock but now you come at ten. I’ll get you the bathrobe.”
“And the towel. The towel’s more important.”
“No, it isn’t. Not in my present state.”
“Oh—do you really feel—”
“No, no. Not seriously.”
She got out of bed and put on his bathrobe with her arms folded in front of her and her shoulders slightly hunched. She smiled at him and he smiled back. “I guess—I guess I never felt worse. Not sad. It isn’t sadness the way I and you think of sadness and everybody else thinks of it. It’s just this, that the one thing we have—nope. I won’t say it.”
“Oh, you’ve got to finish it now.”
“Must I? Yes, I guess I must. Well, it’s awful when you think that you’ve stayed with so many men and made such a mess of your life, and then someone you really want to stay with because you love him, that person is the one person you mustn’t stay with because if you do he immediately becomes like the rest, and you don’t want him to become like the rest. The thing he has that the rest haven’t is that you haven’t stayed with him.”
“No, that’s wrong. I don’t want you to think that. It isn’t true. Maybe it is, but I don’t think so.”
“No, I guess not, but—I don’t know. The hell with it. You go on out for a walk. Ten minutes, and when you get back I’ll be dressed.”
“I’ll buy a coffee ring.”
She stood at the bathroom door, watching him put on his coat. “I’m a real bitch, Eddie. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I know what’s right, but I’m so strongly tempted. You’ve never seen me without any clothes on, have you?”
“I’ll get the coffee ring.”
“That’s right,” she said.
When he did not return in fifteen minutes she began to worry, but he did return in ten minutes more, and they had more breakfast. He brought also a container of orange juice for her and a morning paper. “Mm. Legs Diamond’s arrested,” she said. “I met him once.”
“Who didn’t?” said Eddie. “What did they arrest him for? Parking near a fire plug, I’ll bet.”
“No. The Sullivan Law. That’s uh, buzz buzz buzz buzz. Weapons. Deadly weapons in his possession. By Joel Sayre. This is an interesting article. Yes, I met Legs Diamond. What did you say? Who didn’t? Lots of people didn’t. I met him and the boy I was with didn’t know him, even by reputation, and he kept making cracks. Governor Roosevelt’s mother is sick and he’s going to Paris where she is. She’s in the hospital. Did you know that he has infantile paralysis? I never knew that till about a month or two ago. It never shows in his pictures, but he’s always holding on to a state policeman’s arm. Mm. As an aftermath of the. It says here as an aftermath of the airplane crash in which Knute Rockne lost his life the Fokker 29’s are being given the air by the Department of Commerce. I can use Fokker in a sentence.”
“I can use identification in a sentence. I’m not going away this summer because identification till October.”
“Mine was dirty. Oh, the Pulitzer Prize. ‘
Alison’s
House’? Now for God’s sake. ‘Alison’s House.’ And
The Collected Poems of Robert Frost.
Well, I suppose that’s all right. Edmund Duffy. Have you read
The Glass Key
?”
“No.”
“It’s by the same man who wrote
Maltese Falcon,
but it’s not nearly as good. Oh, here’s one for you. Listen to this. This is old Coolidge. ‘Collins H. Gere, buzz buzz buzz buzz belongs to a generation of strong character and high purposes. Their passing marks the end of an era.’ Whose passing? Does he mean strong character and high purposes’ passing? Maybe he does. Maybe he’s right. Do you know anybody with strong character and high purposes?”
“You.”
“No, that’s insulting. Think of someone. It has to be our generation, not older people, because Coolidge says their passing marks the end of an era, I guess he means the era that had strong character and high purposes. You, now. Let me see. Have you a strong character, darling?”
“No character.”
“I’d say yes. About the high purposes, I’m not so sure. How are you on high purposes?”
“Low.”
“No character and low purposes.”
“Not low purposes,” he said. “I just said I was low on
high
purposes. It isn’t exactly the same thing.”
“No, you’re right. Well, I can’t think of anyone I like that has strong character and high purposes. The Giants beat Brooklyn, if you’re interested. Six to three was the score. Terry tripled, scoring when the Giants worked their squeeze play, Vergez laid down a perfect bunt. That shouldn’t sound dirty, but when you have a mind like mine. I must look at Bethlehem Steel. My uncle has some of that. Closed at 44
5
8
. That’s enough of that. Oh, here
is
sad news. Clayton, Jackson and Durante are splitting up. Schnozzle is going to Hollywood and they’re breaking up. Oh, that’s sad. That’s the world’s worst. Why did you have to show me this paper? No more wood number? No more hats? No more telegrams like the one he sent: ‘Opening at Les Ambassadeurs as soon as I learn how to pronounce it.’ Ah. That makes me sad, really sad. I hope he divides his salary with the others. Do you like this hat? On the right hand page. . . . On me.”
“No. It hides the eyes.”
“All right. I must go home to the bosom of my family. A flat chest if I ever saw one. Shall I call you tomorrow?”
“Yes. Oh, how about that fur coat?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Well, aren’t you going to give it back to this fellow?”
“Well, I can’t just take the coat to him, can I?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Eddie. “If you want to return the coat, you can. The way you do it is up to you.”