Studs Lonigan (34 page)

“Come on, girlie!” the soldier said.

Studs watched them quickly disappear in the crowd, and he was hot and wanted it, and gloomy, and just like that his heart seemed to go out of the whole celebration, and he felt that he was only a punk to them, just as the kids around the neighborhood were only punks to him.

It was late when Studs climbed into bed. He was tired, but too excited to sleep, and the refrain of
Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag
drummed in his head. He tossed in the bed most of the night, wishing the war wasn't over, wishing he was a hero, wishing, wishing he'd had the dough for a can house, or had copped off a broad downtown. He tried to keep thinking of that girl on the train, and of making her, over and over again. His head got drowsy, his eyes heavy, and he tried to think even more of her because then he might dream of her and something might happen in the dream and Dough-boy Studs Lonigan, wearing a steel helmet, his bayonetted gun levelled, crossed No Man's Land Over There, one of the rum-tum-tumming Yanks who were advancing. Star shells flared. Shells fell all around him. Machine gun bullets whizzed by his ear. He stepped over corpses. He leaped into the German trenches and suddenly discovered that he was alone, and that the Germans, the whole German Army, brutes, every one of them looking like the fat man with drooping mustaches in the Charlie Chaplin pictures, came at him. They came slowly forwards, goose-stepping, bayonets pointed. He backed into a corner, prepared to pay dearly for his life, terrified into courage by abject fear. And suddenly, all of a sudden in a funny goddamn way that he couldn't understand, there were no Germans, only Old Man Death, wrinkled and creaky, coming at him with a scythe to which there hung a skull and cross-bones. And every time he breathed, ice floated out of his mouth. Studs cowered, prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary. He turned and ran. He looked behind, and there was Old Man Death coming, an even steadiness in his tread. He realized that Old Man Death was The Rose of No Man's Land, and he ran the swifter, it seemed for miles and miles, and turned, thinking that he had escaped, and there was The Rose of No Man's Land, still coming, even, steady, breathing chunks of ice, carrying his scythe. Sweating, he turned and ran through fields and towns back to the eighth grade classroom of St. Patrick's Grammar School, and there he found Lucy Scanlan in a nun's garb, teaching the class. He took his seat. Down the hall, he heard the heavy steps of The Rose of No Man's Land and then Studs Lonigan was in the cockpit of an airplane, flying over France, surrounded by German planes. He took a nose dive, and headed straight into one German plane, waiting until he could see the aviator's face. It was the face of grandma. He shot once, and down the plane went in flames. He climbed a cloud, and above it, headed for a second plane, saw that the aviator in it had the face of the girl on the elevated train, shot one machine-gun bullet and smiled with ecstasy while it went down in flames. He looped the loop and went for another German plane, controlled by an aviator with the face of Lucy Scanlan. He shot it down in ecstasy with one machine-gun bullet. He shot down another, and another, and another, and Ace Lonigan ruled the sky. He turned around, headed for the landing field, tired, as he coasted downwards, gently bringing his plane to the ground. He was met by Father Gilhooley of St. Patrick's parish, President Wilson, and Abe Lincoln, all of them holding aloft a phallicshaped medal. He got out of the plane, prepared to accept his glory and Studs awoke, and outside it was a gray November morning. He was lassitudinous in a mood of letdown, already lonesome for yesterday. He hummed
Over There
and nostalgia crushed him. The thought that the war was over struck him almost like an unexpected club on the head. All along, he'd thought he'd get into it and become a great hero, and back when it had started, he'd been excited. But after eating those bananas, it had got more natural, and he'd gone along doing all the things he'd been doing, just the same. But it had made life more exciting, and then, in a way, it had all been worth yesterday. Now, he'd have to figure out what he'd do with himself. He could go to work for the old man, or try and get a job, or go back to high school and become a famous football player. He knew he could, but he couldn't stand school. He wondered what the hell he could do for himself. He lay in bed a long time.

Finally he got up, washed and went to breakfast. The old man asked him what he was going to do, and Studs said look for a job. Fran butted her nose into the picture and said she didn't believe him, and thought he'd go and hang around those awful bums in the poolroom. His old man said he didn't want him hanging around no poolroom. The old lady said he should go back to school and get educated and maybe study for the priesthood. They gave him a pain. He was glad when the old man gave him a buck and left. The old lady slipped him a half a buck. He went out at eight-thirty, determined to go downtown and look for a job. When he got to the el station, he couldn't do it. He hung around, hardly able to wait for the guys, so they could talk about yesterday, and maybe find more excitement.

MRS. LONIGAN
and Mrs. Reilley, each carrying a black prayer-book, walked home from Sunday mass. Mrs. Lonigan observed that there were two cavities in the front of Mrs. Reilley's mouth. Mrs. Reilley perceived that Mrs. Lonigan was thinner and bonier than she had been when they had last met, and that a few of the strands of hair falling from under her hat were gray.

“You guys complaining that there's nothing to do ought to just stop and think about all the poor chumps who got to work on a day like this. Think of some goddamn Hunky swinging a pickaxe, chopping up the street with his fanny dragging to the ground, swinging away with that goddamn pickaxe, thirsty, his underwear dripping, wishing it was all over and he was sitting in the shade of the old apple tree,” Benny Taite said, tilting himself backwards on a chair in the corner of the poolroom, and looking at the boys seated about in a circle.

“Benny, can that crap. You make us hot and tired, just hearing about it,” said Red Kelly.

“I got a job swinging a pick for the city, and I worked one day. Was my can draggin'?” exclaimed Tommy.

“That was your record for work, wasn't it?” said Kenny Kilarney.

“It wouldn't hurt Taite there to try that for a couple of days. It might make a man of him,” kidded Studs.

“Sure, Taite, tell us where you got all that pep of yours?” said Red.

“I inherited it from my grandfather. He didn't work for forty years, and I'm out to break his record,” Benny dryly said.

“Say, for Christ sake, let's do something,” Studs said, suddenly restive with inaction, while the boys were laughing.

“Exercise your tail on that chair you got. That's what days like this were made for,” said Taite.

“What time is it?” said Studs.

“Two o'clock,” said Red.

“Lonigan's waitin' for supper again,” said Kenny; they laughed.

“Let's go over to the park,” said Studs.

“Walk a block and a half in this sun? Not this sun-dodger,” Kilarney said.

“Oh, by the way, fellows, I forgot to tell you that I saw Paulie Haggerty,” Red said.

“Is he still chasin' that jane of his?” asked Studs.

“Married her. I think it was a shot-gun wedding,” said Red.

Kilarney suddenly changed their astonishment to amusement by melodramatically lamenting that poor Paulie preferred double wretchedness to single blessedness.

“You know, fellows, getting your ashes hauled is one thing, and getting married is another. You can joke all you want about marriage, but it's sacred, a sacrament of the Church, and when you're married it's serious, for life. Paulie's too young for that, he's only seventeen. He might be ruining his whole life. . . . Well, he can't say that I didn't warn him because I did, plenty,” Red Kelly said.

“Hey, Kelly, why don't you hire a hall?” Kilarney said.

“Kilarney, you couldn't be serious about anything, could you?” Kelly said, good naturedly.

“He must be cured,” Studs said, butting in on Kilarney's rejoinder.

“He said it cured itself, but he can't kid me, and nobody can tell me that a dose cures itself without even a doctor. And if you ask me, he's playing a damn rotten trick on Eileen. She was a sweet girl, coming from a decent family and a good home. She falls for him, and what does he do but knock her up, and I suppose dose her. Paulie is a pal of mine, and I'd stick through hell with him, but he certainly did act like a rat with Eileen.”

“Hell, Red, that jane is five years older than he is, and don't tell me she didn't know what he was doing. She chased him all over the neighborhood, and now she's got a ball and chain on him. Christ, he'll even have to go to work,” Taite said, burlesquing his last sentence.

“That's not so. It was a lousy trick, and she comes from a decent family and doesn't deserve it,” Red said.

“Red, she's a terrible spider, and she spun a web around Paulie, my pal Paulie,” Kilarney said, extravagantly.

Weary Reilley entered, with his right hand bandaged. They asked him if he'd been knocking brick buildings over.

“I just tangled holes with some flukey-looking wiseacre down at Sixty-third and the Grove. He thought he was tough, so I sent him home with a handful of teeth and a puss full of blood. But I damn near broke my hand to hell on him and had to have three stitches put in it. Anyway, I learned something. Instead of breaking my dukes any more on some rat's face, I'm getting me a nice pair of brass knucks.”

Studs thought of how he hadn't had a fight since hell-and-gone. But once he'd cleaned up Reilley. Nobody else in the neighborhood had. He supposed, too, that he'd have to tangle again with him. Reilley always tried to get even. Well, Reilley wouldn't be as hard this time, with his dukes on the fritz. They kept asking Reilley questions and praising him. Hell, had they forgot what a battler Studs Lonigan was?

“Say, who in hell is going to give me a fag?”

“Kilarney, don't you ever smoke your own?” Red responded.

“O.P.'s satisfy me.”

“Some day other people will get wise to you,” kidded Red.

“Fellow, you know what Barnum said?”

Studs handed Kenny a cigarette.

“Thanks, chump,” kidded Kilarney.

“Hey, Kilarney, think you'll ever amount to much?” asked Taite.

“Sure! Why I even went downtown yesterday to look for a job.”

“How was the show?” asked Doyle.

“Good bill at the State and Lake.”

“I guess then we'll all have to go looking for a job tomorrow,” Red said.

“What about you, Reilley, have you been thinkin' of getting a job and desertin' our cause of late?” asked Taite.

“There's plenty of chumps workin' already,” Reilley said.

“That's what I'm trying to suggest to my old man. But he gets on a soap-box every morning at breakfast and threatens not to give me any more dough,” Studs said.

“My old man tried that once, and I blew. He knows better than try it again. He's got enough dough and did enough work for the Reilleys for a long time to come. If he cracks wise about it, he knows I'll just tell him all right fellow, and blow. I can get me a gat and pull a stickup when I need the kale,” Reilley said, causing them all to admire him.