Seventh Avenue (40 page)

“
I was at the Gin Rummy Club on Eastern Parkway and I couldn’t
get a taxi.”

“
It was very late,” Sports added.

“
Oh, the Gin Club. You showed me it once. Right across the street
from Dubrow’s Cafeteria.”

“
Yeah, that’s right,” Sports said.

“
Don’t they have a taxi station in front of Dubrow’s? About thirty
of them waiting in a line all the time?”

“
Well, there weren’t any last night,” Rhoda said angrily.

“
Oh, okay.”

“
There weren’t any. And when I dropped your mother off, my
car conked out. Couldn’t start
it,
and all the garages were closed, so
your mom kindly offered me the davenport in the living room.”

“
My dad belongs to the AAA.”

“
So? What’s that got to do with . . . ?”

“
Well, the good thing about them is that they come and start your
car day or night, no matter where you are. They’re very good like
that,
that’s why my dad’s a member.” The information came forth
from Neal’s lips without a hint of irony and without a smile. Simply
information
that
Sports might find useful in the future.

“
I’ve got to pack now. ‘S’cuse me, Mom.” As he was about to
leave the dining
room,
he turned and said: “I’d call the police about
your clothes. Whoever stole them,
well .
. . it was a pretty horrible
and nasty thing to do.”

“
Impossible,” Rhoda moaned to Sports when he was gone. “Impossible little bastard. He was laughing at us all the time.”

“
I’m not sure, Rho. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Is he
a liar?”

“
No, not a liar. He just never tells the truth.”

Neal came out of his room carrying a small leather weekend case.
He paused on the threshold, then went up to his mother and kissed
her on the cheek. He held out his hand and said:

“
Glad to meet you, Sports.”

“
Same here.”

Rhoda’s exterior crumbled slightly when she realized that Neal
had made
the effort
to be pleasant and outgoing.

“
Have a good time and look after yourself.”

“
I’ll try.”

“
I’m happy you and Sports met. You’ll be seeing a lot of each other
in the future.”

“
That’s nice,” Neal said.

Not until Neal had settled in his room in Jay’s house did he consider
the implications of Sports’ sudden appearance as a house guest. All
day at school he had given his mind to his studies, and even after the
interview with his mother, the thought of Sports as a permanent
fixture in the household merely occupied that place in his mind
reserved for the other disembodied phantoms who had crossed his
social perimeter and then evaporated like a cloud of smoke into some
nebulous expanse of sky. On the
surface,
the man was pleasant enough,
even
likeable
, but Neal did not like him: personable men with
what he called the “pals act” revolted him. He didn’t want a pal, nor
did he wish to exchange confidences. If his mother chose to marry
again,
he would not stand in her way, or protest, so long as new
and more insidious restraints were not placed on him. As it was, too
many people told him what to do: the prospect of yet another sympathetic, solicitous demi-relation advising him was intolerable. He
knew that Sports had known he was guilty, and this made Neal uneasily suspicious of his motives for concealing his knowledge. Why
hadn’t he pressed his claim, or forced Neal to tell the truth? Why
had he been so quick to believe him, or seem to believe him? For Neal, everyone operated in a shabby, dark world of motives: find
out the man’s
motives,
and you can beat him at his own game. It was
obvious: Sports planned to marry Rhoda; but why? Could he possibly
love Rhoda? That might be a possibility if the man was less
shifty,
if
the man was, in short, a man. But he had detected that Sports’ façade
was as substantial as a piece of tissue paper and as convincing as a
Superman comic. Rhoda had money, for Jay had not only given her
a store which was successful, but also a large cash settlement.

The divorce itself, what Neal remembered of it, had been a masterpiece of good taste and
sotto voce
diplomacy. No screaming, arguments, fights, name-calling - nothing like what their marriage had
been. It was all settled well and finally: two cold-blooded and dissimilar people sitting round a table with a few lawyers had signed a
pact of dissolution and peace - like the Indians and cavalry in a
Western. Neal had come into a room in a large official-looking
building
, after walking down a long gray, spotlessly clean corridor,
the clicking of his leather heels punctuated the tomblike silence. The
room had smelled like stale bread, and everyone smiled at him - open, smiling, false faces and Jay had kissed him, then Rhoda kissed
him, and there was an acrid cigarette odor on her breath
that
bothered him a bit, even though it was as familiar as her face. He had
nodded yes to several questions without fully understanding
them. His
back had been patted by a man who he had learned was the judge,
and it had all ended in an hour. He had wanted to cry, to scream, to
throw himself on the floor, writhing in an agony that he barely comprehended but which had torn a hole in him, but he was unable to
cry, and he regretted not crying because he had never succeeded in
crying afterwards, and he recognized that this represented an irreparable loss, and had
made
him, as much as anything else, what he
was: a child waiting to become a man, so that he could break away
from Rhoda and Jay. His only
emotion, when it was over,
was
relief.

He decided that Sports wanted Rhoda’s money and that he would
have to tell his father, and Jay would do something about it. Neal
would stand back from the action with an admiring sense of pride in
Jay’s firmness, and his power of decision. What he loved most about
Jay was the way he could alter circumstances, and he knew his father
was susceptible to his influence. He manipulated Jay like a set of trains. Jay loved Neal and never stopped telling him that he
did,
and
Neal loved Jay for loving him.

Eva was sitting in the den with a half-filled glass in her hand.

“
You all settled in?”

“
Uh-huh. Where’s my father?”

“
Talking to somebody on the
phone .
. .” She held up her
glass to
Neal,
and he took it. “Would you be a good boy and fix me
another drink? Not too heavy on the water, we don’t want to kill
good scotch.”

“
Could you tell the difference?”

“
What’d you mean by that? Of
course,
I can tell good from
crap
.”

“
No, I mean if there’s too much water in it?”

She thought about his question for a moment and said:

“
Yeah, it tastes all watery and flat.” Neal always seemed to upset
her, and she lost her temper too easily with him. Why did she always
look for hidden meanings in harmless things he said?

“
Thanks, Neal. You’ve got a terrific future as a bartender. It’s just
right.”

Jay walked in with blazing eyes.

“
You got the kid mixing drinks for you? It’s only five feet away.
If that’s too far, you can sit on top of it.”

“
Aw, Dad, don’t argue. I like doing it.”

“
Really?” He brightened. “Sorry, Eva. I’m just annoyed that I got
let down for some fight tickets. I told the broker to take his tickets
and stick ‘em.”

“
Aren’t we going?” Neal asked.

“
Twenty-fifth row?”

“
I wanted to go.”

“
Well, I’ll call him back if you do.”

“
No, don’t, you’re probably right.”

“
Tell you what, there’s a new steak house opened up last week
and I hear it’s terrific. What do you say, Neal? Shrimp cocktail and a
nice big charcoal-broiled steak?”

“
Sure, great.”

“
I want to eat Chinese food,” Eva said.

“
Well, you go and eat Chinese food. Neal and me are gonna have
steak.”

“
Never anything I want to do. Always Neal, Neal, Neal.”

“
You’re ridiculous.”

“
Eva, don’t you remember the last time we ate Chinese food you
were sick all night, and said you’d never eat it again,” Neal said with
concern.

She gave him a quizzical stare, then broke into a smile.

“
Always got the right thing up your sleeve, haven’t you?”

“
Finish your drink and we’ll go. They sell booze in bars too, and
you like bars better, don’t you?”

“
I’ll just do my face.”

“
That’s a lifetime’s work. C’mon.”

On the drive, they passed the Lee Chi Tea Garden and Neal
shouted to his father to stop.

“
Let’s do what Eva wants to.”

“
Why? You were right about it never agreeing with her.”

“
Neal,” she droned sourly, “you must be the only kid in the world
who always gets his own way by giving in to other people.”

“
That’s uncalled for,” Jay said, pushing his foot hard on the accelerator so that they passed the restaurant in a flash.

“
He’s just a smart little
bastard .
. . too smart.”

Jay hit her in the stomach with his elbow, without taking his eyes
off the road.

“
Daddy, don’t!” Neal screamed.

“
You watch your mouth with the child.”

Eva did not react; she merely rubbed her stomach and slumped
back in the seat.

“
If you can’t hold your liquor, then stay home!”

“
One of these
days .
. . you and that kid,” she threatened.

“
Don’t make threats unless you intend to carry them out.”

They drove in silence, and Neal wondered, wondered for the
thousandth time, why his father had married someone he so obviously
despised. What had the reason been, the compulsion? Their marriage
was a series of humiliations for both of them. Was it possible to make
the same mistake twice? His father still had women - Neal had met
a few of them in the showroom. They had all offered to take him
to the circus. Nothing seemed to make sense when one became an
adult. Didn’t people have clear-cut choices
that
even a child could
understand? Although he admired his father, he could not respect
him: he didn’t approve of hitting women.

“
What’s gonna happen?”

“
Happen?” Jay repeated.

“
To all of us,” Neal said.

“
See”
-
he
prodded Eva – “you’ve upset him. Why we can’t have
a quiet family dinner once in a while is a mystery to me.”

“
No mystery at all,” Eva shrugged apathetically. “It’s simply
that you love Neal more than
me,
and you never stop reminding me
that you do. If I did the same thing with Lorna, you’d go off your nut.
That is if you gave a good goddamn about me or her.”