Small g (12 page)

“I’ll walk you to the house,” said Teddy boldly, turning off his engine, his lights. He had parked near where Luisa had met him tonight.

“But—no, Teddie. What if she looks out the window and sees you?” Luisa’s gaze took in the length of the dark pavement under the trees—no one, and she was ready to open the car door.

“Kiss me good night?”

He kissed her first quickly, then gave her a longer kiss, still gentle, with a lick of his tongue between her lips. He pressed her hand against the car cushion between them. Luisa opened the door. Then Teddie was beside her, holding the door open for her.

“Go back!” She was thinking of his very visible white jacket. “I’ll say good-bye here. Thank you, Teddie.”

“I thank you. Go—if you must!” he whispered, clowning with arm upraised.

Luisa walked. For a few seconds, she expected Teddie’s long brown car to glide by—he had to drive in this direction, unless he attempted a U-turn. She turned right at the next corner, not having seen him, braced in fact for the sight of Renate who just might be taking a late walk, returning from an espresso at Jakob’s, hoping to spy on her, on anyone with her. Luisa stole a glance at her wristwatch under a streetlight. Twenty-two past eleven. Not horrible, but bad enough. A mere walk along the Sihl? Yes, that was possible, if she’d stopped somewhere like a buffet-restaurant for a Coke and a frankfurter. Caviar and shish kebab! Luisa imagined that she still felt the effects of the gin and tonic and the wine.

Luisa was suddenly at her house steps. She looked nervously at a dark figure coming from the Jakob direction, male, but it was no one she knew. Looking up, Luisa saw a light in the TV room. And she had her keys, good. She opened the front door.

“Hello. Luisa!” This from Francesca, a plump, fiftyish woman with whom Renate sometimes chatted in Jakob’s. Francesca was walking her Pomeranian.

“’Evening, Francesca,” Luisa replied with a smile.

Luisa climbed the stairs. The old paneled white door opened easily. The TV was audible, a male voice.

And Renate appeared in the TV room doorway, wearing her pink-and-white floor-length negligee and an anxious expression, hair tied back and hanging down her nape now. “Well—so—a long walk. And how was the Sihl?” The tone was not particularly hostile.

Luisa had heard that middling tone before. It was unpredictable. She threw her shoulders back, feeling strong. “Very pleasant. A little breeze. I had a wiener and a Coke.”

“Did you? Where?”

“Oh—somewhere. You know. A kiosk with a couple of tables and chairs.” She could see the place. Luisa felt ever more certain as she spoke.

“Where were you really?” Renate’s tense, slender figure, not so tall as Luisa’s, had come between Luisa and the back part of the hall, where Luisa wanted to go.

Luisa did not hesitate. She laughed and said, “Really—taking a walk! And I enjoyed it! Excuse me, Renate.”

Luisa moved past her, down the hall to the bathroom. She realized that she had seen something new in Renate’s face just now, heard it in her voice. It was different from uncertainty, or simple questioning, it was something like fear. Bizarre thought! Renate was fearless. She’d said so many times, not boasting but as if she stated the truth.

Yes, she’d had a date with Teddie Stevenson, and so what? And she would see him Saturday evening too at Jakob’s! They hadn’t made a date, but he’d be there. Jakob’s was a public place, after all, and Renate couldn’t dictate who’d be admitted and who wouldn’t. She might dance with Teddie, and he might dance with another girl. And why not?

Luisa took a delicious lukewarm shower. Renate had returned to her TV.

She fell into bed, washed and combed, with her head full of Teddie—taking her hand gently before they stepped onto the dance floor, saying that she would have to meet his mother (why?), saying so many things that had made her smile and made her smile now. What was Teddie doing now? Would she always remind him of a chestnut? What was always? Two months?

13

S
aturday night. Rickie had worked alone in his studio most of the day, worked well in the silence. A gentle rain around 4
P.M.
had cooled the air wonderfully. Rickie worked on until after eight on the Star-Brite jobs. Finally he collapsed for several minutes on the single bed in the back room, hands behind his head.

Would Teddie be at the Small g tonight? Should he wait and eat a bit there, instead of making something at home? If Teddie came, he’d be looking for Luisa, of course, maybe already had a date with her. Perfectly normal, Rickie told himself. He’d watch them dancing together. He couldn’t dance with Teddie, oh no. Teddie wouldn’t like that, and of course Rickie wouldn’t propose it. In a mixture of reality and fantasy about Teddie Stevenson, Teddie dancing naked and by himself, and inaudibly singing—Rickie fell asleep.

When he lifted his head and peered at his wristwatch, it was only five past nine. He closed up shop, summoned Lulu to her lead, and walked to his apartment house. Here he gave Lulu her supper, put on a cassette of Dietrich—he loved “Johnny, wenn du Geburtstag hast”—showered and got dressed. A yellow linen jacket for tonight, a nice white shirt, no tie but a good foulard at his neck, blue stay-pressed cotton trousers. Not elegant, Rickie thought, just maybe
neat
. He thought of the English word, which to him had many facets: adroit, clean, chic, and a bit dismissive—somehow. He felt his garb meant he was not going to try to make a conquest tonight, yet if something came along—

The telephone rang when Rickie had his hand almost on his own doorknob. He turned back.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rickie! Tried to reach you twice before. This is Freddie—Freddie Schimmelmann. Remember?” A hearty laugh. “The
cop
!”

Rickie’s brain spun a couple of times. Of course, Freddie the cop who’d let him off. My God, he’d been to bed with this man! “Freddie, sure—how are you?” Rickie saw again the smallish figure, the affably pleasant face curiously wrinkled at the corners of the eyes.

“I’m fine. I’m free tonight—wondered what you’re doing. What
are
you doing?” Freddie’s smiling voice was suggestive of wild fun.

Rickie thought fast, tried to. “Well, I’m—” Rickie thought of Teddie, of seeing him very likely tonight, even of possibly seeing him. He didn’t want to be tied up with Freddie, didn’t want to suggest Freddie come to the Small g tonight, because it would look as if—“I’ve got a date, to tell you the truth.”

“Oh—not the kind I could join maybe? Are you tied up later too?”

Rickie had to answer no to the first question, yes to the second. At the same time, he wanted to be nice to Freddie, because Freddie had been nice to him, and because Freddie might well be of help in some predicament in the future. “Another time—I’m sure. But just now I’m pretty busy, Freddie. I was working all day, that’s why I wasn’t at home.”

Rickie had got out of that fairly easily. Freddie made sure that Rickie had his card, still, with work and home numbers. Rickie had.

Then Rickie went out and strolled toward the Small g. Certainly Freddie wasn’t a knockout, Rickie was thinking. Was that why he was so hard up, that he phoned him, Rickie? Or was he again belittling himself, seeing himself old and ugly, when the truth was not nearly so grim? Rickie put on an optimistic air, head a little higher, as he walked through the main entrance of Jakob’s. The outside terrace’s six tables were nearly full. Jakob’s had put out little Swiss flags along the trees, the flags on strings, white crosses on red. A couple of firecrackers went off but from a great distance, as if from some dark mountain. More red-and-white altered the dark-brown-and-tan interior of the Small g. Bigger flags here, but not many of them.

“Hello,
Rickie
!” from someone standing at the bar.

“Rickie and Lulu! Hoopla!”

The usual. Rickie casually greeted a few faces he knew and moved toward the now-empty dance floor where the tables and booths that ringed the room gave off murmurs and shouts and some spontaneous singing. Rickie, looking for Philip or Ernst, stole a glance at “Renate’s table,” and there they were—Renate in white tonight and Luisa.

She saw him and flashed a smile, lifted her right hand quickly. Renate, apparently lecturing Luisa as usual, had been too occupied to notice him, or so he hoped. A woman whom Rickie didn’t know was on the other side of Renate.

“Hey, Rickie! This way!” This was Ernst, conspicuous in French sailor’s striped sweater, half standing up from a smaller table. Here were Philip Egli and also Claus Bruder with what seemed to be a new catch, a blondish boy.

There was room for Rickie on a bench against the wall, and for Lulu beside him. A beer. Exchanges. How was everybody? Claus’s new boy was called René, and sported the short-side haircut with bushy top now such a favorite of the young. He looked stupid, Rickie thought, but maybe honest. Of course Rickie could have turned up with a new face from the Bahnhof this evening, but who wanted such? The kind of boy who’d do it for money, who’d pick your pocket besides at the first opportunity. And what a comedown from Petey. No, the Bahnhof Rickie would not cruise. Better the Bahnhofquai, even if he got a brush-off from the young! Better Freddie Schimmelmann!

“To eat, Rickie! Anything?” Ernst was apparently ordering, Andreas standing near with his tablet.

Rickie soon had grilled cervelat, dark bread, and a mustard pot plus a green salad before him. It was getting on for eleven.

Renate had begun to sketch, Rickie saw, the object of her attention being a young woman in a long black tunic over orange slacks, Rickie thought, who had taken to the dance floor. Renate’s white dress was set off by two broad red bands from shoulder to waist, effective and unusually bold for the Edwardian Renate. And here came Willi Biber, hat in hand tonight, and Rickie watched Renate shoo Luisa and the third woman farther down the bench with a flick of her hand, so Willi could sit beside Renate and face the crowd.

“Hey, Rickie! Did you bring her
glasses
?” This from two tables over to Rickie’s right. A man pointed to Lulu.

“Her glasses? No!” Rickie replied, smiling a little. “Sorry!” He didn’t know the people at that table, not even by sight.

The crowd was bigger and noisier, because of the holiday. Rickie looked out for Dorrie Wyss, not at all sure she’d come, if she had a good party to go to in town. Rickie had finished his meal, lit a cigarette and ordered another beer, when he caught sight of Teddie and his heart gave a jump. Teddie in a pale blue jacket, bow tie, so handsome that he was anyone’s Golden Boy—Rickie’s, girls’, boys’, his mum’s Golden Boy, of course. Rickie lowered his eyes, flicked his ashes into an ashtray, looked up again just as Teddie and Luisa saw each other—it seemed. There were a few dancers between them. Rickie saw Teddie stop, lift his head and smile, as if he were going to head for Luisa’s table, but he turned in Rickie’s direction. Luisa continued to watch Teddie.

“Teddie?” Rickie called, lifting an arm.

The boy hadn’t seen him until then.

Rickie made room, asked one fellow to get himself a chair, in fact, and put Lulu on his other side, so Teddie could sit beside him. “Well, Teddie! You know nearly everyone, I think.”

Nods and hellos.

“You are looking very smart tonight,” Rickie said.

Teddie shrugged. “Dinner out with my mum. And another—well, my godmother,” Teddie said, laughing. “Had to look nice. Godmother’s birthday. Did you get my—my article, Rickie?”

Now Rickie had a slight sinking feeling, the opposite of a few moments ago. He had got Teddie’s page and a half and hadn’t liked them. About motorcycle riding, racing with a friend. “Ye-es.”

“Like it?” asked Teddie, as directly as a child might. Then, “OK—you can be frank.”

“Then frankly—I’m not sure it’s going to appeal to many people. Motorcycle people—sure. But the way you wrote about speed, noise. Risk also—”

“Yes, sure.”

“Interesting,” Rickie said, making an effort, “but I’m thinking about a majority who wouldn’t like it.”

Teddie smiled. “Well, you’re right. I got it back this morning. I send self-addressed stamped envelopes; otherwise I wouldn’t get anything back.” He forced a laugh.

“Did the editor have any comment?”

“Oh—‘limited appeal.’ ‘Not worked out’ or something. I admit I wrote it fast—to keep in the spirit, you know.”

Rickie felt easier. “What would you like to drink? A Coke?”

“Got to be a Coke, I’ve got the car tonight.”

That was that. Fine, Rickie thought, raised an arm for Andy or Ursie, or maybe Tobi was on duty tonight too. None of them in sight. Claus Bruder was concentrating on his new friend, who was sitting in the far left corner, back against the wall, one foot on the bench.

“I’d love to ask Luisa to dance, but the old witch is right there!” Teddie gave a short laugh.

“Ask her anyway!” said Rickie aggressively, feeling his drink a little now. “Who is she to say Luisa can’t dance—at Jakob’s!”

“Did Luisa tell you we had a nice date—this week?” Teddie asked with visible pride.

“No-o. I don’t see her every day, you know. A date where?”

Bang!
Then a few seconds of silence. A gun?

That had come from the room behind Rickie and the partition, and he half stood up. So did others.

“Who’s got the gun?” a woman’s shrill voice cried.

Someone laughed, then came an explosion of anger. Curses. It was a fist fight.

“
Hugo!
” That was Ursie from the bar direction.

The tall blond Tobi appeared first, shouting and waving his arms, then Hugo, a bulky man with a long apron over his shirt and trousers—the cook—crashed his way through what was left of the dance floor, and seized one of the men under the arms. Rickie was now standing on his bench, and he could see over the partition. Two men got dragged out, thrown out.

“Fireworks tonight!” Someone yelled. Others laughed.

“Outsiders,” Rickie said, settling down again. He hadn’t recognized them. Drunken outsiders. Lulu had kept her calm, and Rickie passed a hand over her white head and back.

“I’m going over to ask Luisa,” said Teddie, optimistic.

Across the room, Luisa watched Teddie appear through the crowd, and bow slightly.

“Good evening,” he said, including the whole table. “Would you like to dance, Luisa?”

Luisa was aware, as she slid out from the bench, that Willi Biber’s eyes—little pale blue eyes—bored like nail points into Teddie. Renate stared, stony-faced.

It was a fast song. Teddie took both her hands in his.

I can’t believe you’re
here
, Luisa wanted to say, but felt it was exactly what a stupid and unsophisticated person would say.

“National colors.” Teddie nodded at her garb. “On purpose?”

Luisa was wearing a scarlet shirt and white cotton slacks.

“Did you catch it Wednesday night?” he asked.

“No!” Luisa fairly gasped. “Incredible. I was lucky.”

“I wrote about us—yesterday and this morning,” Teddie said.

“What do you mean ‘about us’?”

“Wednesday. The nice evening. Well, for
me
it was nice. A page and a half. Sent it to the
Tages-Anzeiger
.”

Luisa was alarmed. “You don’t mean it’s going to be
printed
?”

“Who knows?” said Teddie dreamily. “I called you J. Just the letter
J
. And what’d we do wrong?” His voice cracked and he laughed.

Nothing wrong. Just that she’d been with him at all. She was conscious of both Renate and Willi Biber staring at her and Teddie as if they were creatures from outer space, deformed humans, somehow.

“Let’s go—”she began.

“Anywhere.” Teddie still held one of her hands.

“Just to the bar.”

Teddie forged a way for them toward the bar near the front door. Because of the crush, he didn’t quite make it to the bar, but now standing people made a wall between herself and Teddie and Renate’s table.

Just then Renate, out of hearing of Francesca, who was not at all interested anyway, was saying to Willi, “You see how he looks at her? Tch-h!” A shake of the head. “That pretty boy is a homo—a friend of Rickie’s. You know that.”

Willi nodded, and continued staring dully at the bar crowd into whose thicket the young man and Luisa had vanished.

Renate went on, “It’s going to be the same story again—as with Petey, you know? Why do they do it, these boys?” Renate’s usually throaty voice grew thin and shrill on that question, wailing even.

Willi Biber looked at her, surprised by the tone. His thin lips worked, then he lifted his glass of beer and drank.

“Vanity! Worse than girls!” Renate concluded with a cynical smile. “He needs a good scare, this one.” She nodded toward the bar, not knowing whether Luisa and the boy were there or had gone on to the front terrace. She glanced at the apparently deaf Francesca—the place was loud—and said, “Give him a scare tonight, Willi. Follow him. Does he have a car usually?”

Willi was slow with an answer. “I think—usually.”

Renate didn’t one hundred percent believe Willi. She never did. That was the drawback in dealing with him, of course. “Give him a good big scare, Willi. You know how. You’re bigger than this boy.”

At that moment, Luisa and Teddie had secured Cokes, though not an elbow’s room at the bar, so they stood each with a bottle in hand.

“Alone at last!” said Teddie, pretending to swoon. He looked at his wristwatch. “Got to be home by one. I’ve got the car.”

“I wish it were last Wednesday night.”

“Y’know,” Teddie yelled over a loudmouth near him, “it’s a good column, this last that I wrote.”

“Maybe they’ll buy it.” Luisa felt on a crest of optimism, for no reason, as if everything was going to turn out well. What was everything? She didn’t want to try to answer that. Teddie looked confident, and his confidence spread through her.

“I’ve got nearly an hour. We could take a spin—very short. I’d bring you back.”

“Where is your car?” A drive would be nice, but even short, impossible. Renate would somehow know, and scream about it.