Hemingway's Girl (32 page)

Gavin wasn’t staying at the hotel. He’d rented a small, inexpensive room by the harbor.
He was insistent that he pay his own way.

Mrs. Duncombe, who owned the Compleat Angler, organized a big dinner at the hotel
that night. Everyone was invited, from Mariella and Gavin, to Ada Stern, to Jane Mason.

While Gavin left to wash and rest, Mariella helped the kitchen staff at the hotel
with the cooking. She had learned how to make conch stew and johnnycake, a pan-fried
bread the locals enjoyed. They made crabs and rice and several varieties of fried
fish. Mariella didn’t stay to join in the dessert preparation, because Pauline needed
help with her hair and Mariella wanted time to wash and dress.

When Mariella got to the Hemingways’ room, she could hear arguing inside. She rolled
her eyes, annoyed that she had managed to intrude on another private moment between
Pauline and Papa, and unsure of how to proceed. She stood outside the door trying
to make up her mind.

“I just feel she takes what’s mine,” said Pauline. “I wish she hadn’t come.”

“You encouraged me to invite her,” said Papa, clearly irritated.

“I know, but it seems as if she wants to edge me out of my own life,” said Pauline.

“How ridiculous. To insinuate that she’s somehow taken me. Jesus, I might as well
screw her. I’m being accused anyway.”

The room grew silent.

“What kind of sadist are you to invite someone who makes you miserable?” he said.

“I just thought I needed to deal with my feelings toward her.”

“Well, you’re not dealing with them. And you’re making it my problem, and I resent
the hell out of that. Christ, I came here to relax.”

Mariella could hear Pauline start to cry. She didn’t want to pass the Hemingways’
window, so she crept down the stairs and walked along the beach to the other staircase
on the porch and went to her room from that direction.

Mariella thought about what she had heard and that Papa had been cruel. But she also
knew that Pauline’s insecurities were making it worse. If Pauline could show some
confidence around Jane and Papa, she could take control of the situation. Based on
what Mariella had heard Papa say to Jane at the bar, she knew that even if they had
once been lovers, they certainly weren’t now. It sounded like Jane and this “Mr. Cooper”
were lovers.

Mariella felt disgust that a married woman would carry on with other men. Why would
Mr. Mason stand by and let his wife run around on him? Why even bother getting married
in the first place? Did the rich play by a different set of rules? And did Pauline
deserve it? After all, hadn’t she started her relationship with Papa while he was
married to Hadley?

Mariella felt a wave of shame that she had allowed herself to flirt so dangerously
with Papa. She was glad their relationship had never fully crossed a physical line.
It had been a dangerous game she’d been playing.

When Mariella reached her room, Papa slammed his door and started toward the dock.
He didn’t notice Mariella. She waited until he was out of sight before going into
her own room.

When she got inside, she found her red and white flowered dress and put it on. Then
she pinned up the sides of her hair and
applied her red lipstick. It was dramatic against her tan skin, and she was pleased
with the effect. The last thing she did was put on the perfume she’d made with one
of the kitchen staff. The woman had shown her how to crush marlberry flowers and mix
them with water and vodka to make a light, sweet-smelling fragrance.

Mariella stepped out of her room and walked over to the Hemingways’ room. She listened
for a moment and then knocked. Mariella heard the bedsprings creak and then Pauline
opened the door. Her eyes were still swollen and she looked disheveled.

“Come in,” she said.

Mariella went into the room, which was as dark as a tomb, and smelled like a man who
had fished all day and bathed by swimming in the ocean. She made a mental note to
relieve the hotel cleaning staff so she could take over cleaning it.

“We need to open up this place and get in some fresh air,” said Mariella.

Pauline nodded.

Mariella opened the door and both sets of windows. She picked up the wet towels on
the floor, shook them out, and hung them on the side of the railing on the porch.
Then she walked the ashtray outside, emptied it into the sand, and put it on the table.
She walked back in and saw that there was sand and bits of dried seaweed on the bedspread.
She carried it out to the porch and shook it hard over the railing. Then she went
back in, opened it over the bed, and smoothed out the creases.

Pauline watched her like a helpless child, and Mariella realized the situation was
more dire than she’d thought. She instructed Pauline to dress in the bathroom and
then sit by the mirror on the dresser. While Pauline dressed for dinner, Mariella
picked up the dirty clothes off the floor, dumped the half-empty glasses of alcohol
scattered throughout the room, and lined up Papa’s moccasins and Pauline’s espadrilles
by the door. She surveyed the room with her hands on her hips and was satisfied that
it looked better for
now. The sea air was also flushing the room of its mustiness, and soon the pleasant
ocean aroma was the strongest fragrance in the room.

Pauline came out of the bathroom improved in appearance. She had changed from her
housedress to a pretty dinner dress with capped, wavy sleeves and a tea-length skirt.
She had washed her face and combed water through her hair. She walked over to the
chair and sat, looking at Mariella in the mirror. Mariella began forming curls and
securing them with bobby pins.

“I don’t know how I’ve become so helpless,” said Pauline.

Mariella thought it sounded more like an address to the universe than a conversation
starter, so she stayed quiet.

“It’s because of how we started, me and Papa,” said Pauline. She now looked at Mariella,
directly addressing her.

“And how’s that?” asked Mariella—fully aware of how
that
was.

“He was married to Hadley when we fell in love,” she said. “And now I’ll always worry
that he’ll fall in love with another once he’s tired of me. You’re lucky to have your
soldier, Mariella.”

Mariella continued setting Pauline’s hair in silence. She didn’t wish to discuss Gavin
with Pauline. She didn’t want to discuss Papa with Pauline, either. She didn’t know
what to say, but Pauline was obviously looking for some comfort.

“You’ve seen them,” said Pauline. “Do you think he loves Jane?”

Mariella needed to choose her words carefully, without letting on too much. If she
told Pauline about what she’d overheard at the bar, it would confirm that there had
been
something
between Jane and Papa at some time. But she also wanted to assure Pauline that it
appeared over.

“I think Jane forces herself on people,” said Mariella. “I think she’s charming and
beautiful and people respond to that, but I don’t think that Papa loves her. He loves
you.”

“I know he does,” said Pauline. “I don’t know why I wanted to invite Jane to the island.
I think I was trying to pretend that everything was okay. But I can’t handle it.”

“When does she leave?” asked Mariella.

“Next weekend, thank God.”

“Good. Then you won’t have to worry anymore.”

Mariella walked around the front of Pauline.

“Would you like me to put on your makeup?” asked Mariella.

“No, dear, you go find your beau,” said Pauline. “Enjoy your time together.”

Mariella felt a wave of gratitude for her dismissal. “Thank you, Mrs. Hemingway,”
she said. “Let your hair dry for a bit before you take out the bobby pins.”

Pauline nodded and Mariella stepped to the door. Pauline’s voice stopped her.

“You know, Mariella,” said Pauline, “I need to apologize. I used to think you and
Papa had something going on.”

Mariella looked at her shoes and felt the shame burning in her face. She hoped she
was shadowed enough for Pauline not to notice.

“Now I think that my jealousy has been making me see crazy things,” she said. “I hope
you’ll forgive me.”

Unable to find her voice, Mariella nodded. She turned and left the room.

That night, the Hemingways and all of their court were at the bar, in addition to
some locals, a couple in off a large, fancy yacht, and Gavin. Mariella introduced
Gavin to Pauline, Jinny, and the Dos Passoses. Jane and Jinny were joined at the hip,
while Papa and Pauline sulked at the end of the bar. Gavin felt immediately comfortable
with John and Katy, who’d invited them to sit at their table.
John was interested in hearing about Gavin’s work on the Overseas Highway.

“I used to love taking the train down to Key West,” said John. “There’s nothing like
looking down over the water from twenty feet up. Felt like flying.”

“We’re trying to use the rail beds from the old railroad where we can,” said Gavin,
“but not all of them are salvageable.”

“It just seems like madness to think those roads will last with the storms that come
through the Keys,” said Katy. “I worry that you all are being worked to death for
nothing.”

“At least it’s work,” said Gavin. “There’s nothing for me up north. Though the men
down here are pretty difficult to deal with.”

“The vets have been causing a lot of trouble in town,” said Katy.

“I found a good one,” said Mariella.

Gavin reached for her hand and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m afraid there are a lot of us with big problems,” said Gavin. “The drinking’s
pretty bad, the fights, shell shock.”

“Still, all these years later,” said Katy. “It’s very sad.”

Papa came around, turned a chair backward, and squeezed between Gavin and Katy. He
was drunk.

“Far too serious over here,” he said, slamming his drink between them.

“We were discussing the vets on Matecumbe,” said John.

“Ah,” said Papa. “How’s Uncle Sam treating you up there?”

“Like they’re glad we’re out of Washington, as far away as possible.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Papa. “Never trust the government. But enough of all
this heavy talk. Let’s talk about boxing.”

At the word, the men crowded around, and Katy walked away. She went and sat next to
Pauline, who was nursing a glass of gin and glaring at Jane, while Jane talked to
Jinny.

Gavin saw two crisp tens land on the table.

Then a twenty.

They were betting on him and Papa. The men were calling out all kinds of combinations
of rounds and minutes.

“Papa never loses,” said John.

“Neither does Gavin,” said Papa.

“Papa just laid out an island guy who could carry a piano on his back.”

“Winner take all,” said the yachtsman, dropping in twenty. “One round, knockout, Papa.”

“When’s the fight?” asked Mariella.

“Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock,” said Papa. “At the dock where you came in.”

Gavin nodded soberly and took a swig of his drink.

“I’ll go easy on your face,” said Papa.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Gavin. “Damage is done there.”

Gavin saw Mariella looking at the scar that ran down his face, then back at Papa.

“You could have one of those by the time he’s done with you,” she said.

The men “oohed.”

Papa scowled. “You think he’ll win?”

“I’m sure of it,” said Mariella, to another chorus of “oohs.”

“What’ll you wager?” he asked.

Gavin thought Mariella shouldn’t be betting on the fight. He knew Papa was trying
to embarrass her for not choosing him. She pulled her wages out of her pocket and
dropped them in the middle of the table.

“That’s all my pay from working this month,” she said, glaring at him. “Three rounds,
knockout, Gavin.”

Gavin reached out and tried to push the money back to Mariella. “No, don’t do that.”

“It’s done,” said Papa. “She can’t take it back.”

He stood and slammed his drink over the money on the table. He stared down at Mariella,
breathing fast. His fists were clenched. Gavin didn’t like the posture Hemingway had
taken with Mariella and stood eye-to-eye with him. The room became quiet and all eyes
were on the two men.

“Can you wait until morning, soldier?” asked Papa, quivering with agitation.

“If you can,” said Gavin, his voice steady and calm.

Hemingway curled his lips in an ugly sneer. He stepped away from Gavin and left the
room. Shortly after his exit, the bartenders sneaked around the corner and started
with one of their ridiculous songs: “Big Man and Soldier, gonna throw down, gonna
throw down.” The room started to breathe again, and Gavin sat down next to Mariella
while the crowd dispersed. Jane stood with Jinny, walked by the table, and threw down
twenty dollars.

“Three rounds. Knockout.
Papa
.”

John left and returned with an envelope in which he put the money, and wrote all the
bets, times, rounds, and picks. He sealed it and shoved it in his back pocket. He
and Katy left, followed by Pauline.