Make Room! Make Room! (16 page)

“I can do it if you don’t mind eating late. It could even be midnight.”

“That’s fine by me, it might be more fun that way.”

When Shirl was happy every inch of her showed it. He had to smile when she did. New highlights seemed to glisten in her hair and it was as though happiness were a substance that flowed through her and radiated in all directions. Andy felt it and was buoyed up by it, and he knew if he didn’t ask her now he never would be able to.

“Listen, Shirl—” He took both her hands in his and the warmth of her touch helped a good deal. “Will you come with
me? You can stay at my place. There’s not much room, but I’m not home much to get in the way. It’s all yours for as long as you like.” She started to say something but he hushed her with his finger to her lips. “Wait a second before you answer. There are no strings attached. This is temporary—for as long as you want it. It’s nothing like Chelsea Park, but a crummy walk-up, half a single room, and …”

“Will you be quiet!” she laughed. “I’ve been trying to say yes for hours now and you seem to be trying to talk me out of it.”

“What …?”

“I don’t want anything in this world except to be happy, and I’ve been happier these weeks with you than I ever was at any time in my life before. And you can’t frighten me with your apartment, you should see where my father lives, and I was there until I was nineteen.”

Andy managed to get around the table without knocking it over and was hugging her to him. “And I have to be in the precinct in fifteen minutes,” he complained. “But wait for me here, it could be any time after six, but it’s sure to be late. We’ll have the party, and afterward we’ll move your stuff. Do you have very much?”

“It’ll all fit in three suitcases.”

“Perfect. We’ll carry it, or we can use a cab. I have to get going.” His voice changed, became almost a whisper. “Give me a kiss.” She did, warmly, sharing his feelings.

It took a heroic effort to leave, and before he went he ran through all the possible excuses he might give for being late, but he knew that none of them would satisfy the lieutenant. When he came into the lobby he was aware for the first time of a thundering, drumming noise and saw the doorman, Tab, and four of the guards crowded around the front door, looking out. They made way for him when he came over.

“Now just look at that,” Charlie said. “That should change things.”

The far side of the street was almost invisible, cut off by a falling curtain of water. It poured down on the roofs and sidewalks, and the gutters were already filled with a rushing, debris-laden torrent. Adults huddled in the doorways and halls for protection, but the children saw this as a holiday and were running and screaming, sitting on the curb and kicking their legs in the filthy stream.

“Soon as the storm sewers block up, that water’ll be a couple of feet deep. Drown a few of those kids,” Charlie said.

“Happens every time,” Newton, the building guard, agreed, nodding with morbid satisfaction. “The little ones get knocked down and no one even knows about it until after the rain.”

“Could I see you a moment, please?” Tab said, tapping Andy on the arm and walking off to one side. Andy followed him, shrugging into the sticking folds of his raincoat.

“Tomorrow’s the thirty-first,” Tab said. He reached out and held the coat while Andy struggled his hand into the sealed-together arm of the coat.

“I guess you’ll be looking for another job then,” Andy said, thinking about Shirl and the hammering rain outside.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tab said, and as he talked he turned away to look out of the window. “It’s Shirl, she’ll be leaving the apartment tomorrow, she’ll have to. I heard that the old bat sister of Mr. O’Brien’s has hired a tugtruck, she’s moving all the furniture out first thing in the morning. I wish I knew what Shirl was going to do.” His arms were folded across his chest and he brooded out at the falling rain with the solidity of a carved statue.

It’s none of his business, Andy thought. But he has known her a lot longer than I have.

“Are you married, Tab?” he asked.

Tab glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes and snorted. “Married man, happily married and three kids and I wouldn’t change if you offered me one of those TV queens with the knockers big as fire hydrants.” He looked closely at Andy, then smiled. “Nothing there for you to worry about. I just like the kid. She’s just a nice kid, that’s all. I’m worried what’s going to happen to her.”

There’s no secret, Andy thought, realizing this wasn’t the first time the question would be asked. “She’s going to be staying with me,” he said. “I’m coming over later tonight to help her move.” He glanced at Tab, who nodded seriously.

“That’s very good news. I’m glad to hear that. I hope things work out okay, I really do.”

He turned back to look at the rain and Andy looked at his watch and saw that it was almost eight and hurried out. The air was cool, cooler than the lobby, the temperature must have dropped ten degrees since the rain had begun. Maybe this was
the end of the heat wave; it had certainly lasted long enough. There were already a few inches of water in the moat and the surface was dimpled and ringed by the falling drops. Before he had crossed the drawbridge to the street he felt the water run into his shoes; his pants legs were sopping and his wet hair was plastered to his head. But it was cool and he didn’t mind, and even the thought of the perpetually annoyed Grassioli didn’t seem to bother him too much.

It rained the rest of the day, which, in every other way, was like any other day. Grassioli chewed him out twice personally, and included him in a general berating of the entire squad. He investigated two holdups, and another that was combined with felonious assault that would soon be changed to manslaughter or murder, since the victim was rapidly dying from a knife wound in his chest. There was more work piled up than the squad could get through in a month, and new cases coming in all the time while they plodded away at the backlog. As he had expected he didn’t leave at six, but a phone call took the lieutenant away at nine o’clock and all of the day squad still on duty—in spite of Grassioli’s parting threats and warnings—had vanished ten minutes later. The rain was still falling, though not so heavily as before, and the air felt cool after the weeks of continuous heat. As he walked along Seventh Avenue, Andy realized that the streets were almost empty, for the first time this summer. A few people were out in the rain and there were dark forms huddled in every doorway, but the sidewalks and streets were strangely vacant. Climbing the stairs in his building was worse than usual, the people who normally crowded the stoop and curb were sitting here, some of them even lying asleep across the steps. He pushed by them and stepped over the recumbent ones, ignoring their mumbled curses. This was an indication of what it would be like in the fall unless the building owner hired bodyguards to drive the squatters out. It was scarcely worth it any more, there were so many of them, and they just came right back when the guards left.

“You’ll ruin your eyes looking at that thing all the time,” he told Sol when he came in. The old man lay on the bed propped up by pillows, watching a war film on TV. Cannon fire thundered scratchily from the speaker.

“My eyes were ruined before you were born, Mr. Wiseguy, and I can still see better than ninety-nine per cent of the fogies my age. Still working union hours, I see.”

“Find me a better job and I’ll quit,” Andy said, turning on the light in his room and digging through the bottom drawer. Sol came in and sat on the edge of the bed.

“If you’re looking for your flashlight,” he said, “you left it on the table the other day. I meant to tell you, I put it in your top drawer there, under the shirts.”

“You’re better than a mother to me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t try to borrow no money, son.”

Andy put the flash in his pocket and knew that he would have to tell Sol now. He had been putting it off and he wondered why it bothered him. After all, this room was all his, they shared food rations and meals because it made things easier, that was all. It was just a working arrangement.

“I’ve got someone coming to stay with me for a while, Sol. I’m not sure how long.”

“It’s your room, buddy-boy. Do I know the guy?”

“Not exactly. Anyway it’s not a guy—”

“Hoo-ha! That explains it all.” He snapped his fingers. “Not the chick, Big Mike’s girl, the one you been seeing?”

“Yes, that’s the girl. Her name’s Shirl.”

“A fancy name, a fancy girl,” Sol said, heaving to his feet and going toward the door. “Very fancy. Watch out you don’t get your fingers burned, buddy-boy.”

Andy started to say something but Sol was out of the room and closing the door behind himself. A little harder than necessary. He was looking at the TV again when Andy left and did not glance away from it or say anything.

It had been a long day and Andy’s feet hurt and his neck hurt and his eyes burned; he wondered why Sol was being sore. He had never met Shirl—so what did he have to complain about? Tramping crosstown through the slowly falling rain, he thought about Shirl and, without realizing it, began to whistle. He was hungry and he was tired and he wanted to see her very much. The turrets and spires of Chelsea Park rose before him through the rain and the doorman nodded and touched his cap to Andy as he hurried across the drawbridge.

Shirl opened the door for him and she was wearing the silver dress, the same one that she had been wearing that first night, with a tiny white apron tied over it. There was a silver clip holding her copper hair in place and a matching silver bracelet on her right arm, and rings on both her hands.

“Don’t get me wet,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. “I’ve
got all my good things on for the party.”

“And I look like a bum,” he said, peeling off the dripping raincoat.

“Nonsense. You look like you’ve had a hard day in the office or whatever you call that place where you work. You need a party. Hang that thing in the shower and dry your hair before you catch a cold, then come into the livingroom. I have a surprise.”

“What is it?” he called after her receding back.

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise,” she said with devastating female logic.

Shirl had the apron off and was waiting for him in the living room, standing proudly by the dining table. Two tall candles reflected highlights from the silverware, china plates and crystal glasses. A white tablecloth hung in thick folds. “And that’s not all,” Shirl said, pointing to the end table where the neck of a bottle projected from a silver bucket.

Andy saw that the bottle had wires over the top and around the neck, and that the bucket was full of ice cubes and water. He took out the bottle and held the label to the light so that he could read it aloud. “‘Frenchwine Champagne—a rare, selected, effervescent beverage of great vintage. Artificially colored, flavored, sweetened and carbonated.’ ” He placed it carefully back into the bucket. “We used to have wine in California when I was a kid and my father let me taste it, but I don’t remember it at all. You’re going to spoil me, Shirl, with this kind of stuff. And you were kidding me—you said that we had finished all the drink in the house—and all the time you had this tucked away.”

“I did not! I bought that today, special for this party. Mike’s liquor man came around, he’s from Jersey and didn’t even know what had happened to Mike.”

“It must have cost a fortune—”

“Not as bad as you think. I sold him back all the empty bottles and he gave me a special price. Now open it, for goodness’ sake, and let’s try it.”

Andy wrestled with the wire over the cork. He had seen them open bottles like this on TV, but it looked a lot easier than it really was. He worked it off finally and there was a satisfactory bang that shot the cork across the room, while Shirl caught the foaming wine in the glass that she held ready, just as the liquor man had instructed her.

“Here’s to us,” she said, and they raised their glasses.

“This is very good, I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”

“You’ve never tasted anything like this dinner before, either,” she said and hurried to the kitchen. “Now sit down and sip your wine and look at TV, it’ll only be a few minutes more.”

The first course was lentil soup, but with a richer and better flavor than usual. Meat stock, Shirl explained, she had saved it from the steak. There was a white sauce on the broiled tilapia, which were scattered with green flecks of cress and served with dumplings of weedcracker meal and a seacress salad. The wine went with everything and Andy was sighing with contentment and a pleasurable sense of unaccustomed fullness when Shirl brought in kofee and dessert, a flavored agar-agar gelatine with soymilk on it. He groaned, but he had no trouble eating it.

“Do you smoke tobacco?” she asked as she cleared the table.

He leaned back in the chair, eyes half closed and utterly relaxed. “Not on a cop’s salary, I don’t. Shirl, you are an absolute genius in the kitchen. I’ll be spoiled if I eat too much of your cooking.”

“Men should be spoiled, it makes them easier to live with. It’s too bad you don’t smoke, because I found two cigars left in a box that Mike had hidden away, he saved them for special guests.”

“Take them to the flea market, you’ll get a good price.”

“No, I couldn’t do that, it doesn’t seem right.”

Andy sat up. “If you want to do something, I know that Sol used to smoke, he’s the guy I told you about, who lives in the adjoining room. It might cheer him up. He’s a pretty good friend of mine.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” she said, sensing the edge of concern in Andy’s words. Whoever this Sol was, she wanted him to like her, living right in the next room like that. “I’ll put them into my suitcase.” She carried the loaded tray into the kitchen.

When the dishes were cleaned she went to finish her packing in the bedroom, and called Andy in to help her get the last case down from the top shelf. She had to change for the street and he helped her with the zipper on her dress and this had just the effect she hoped it would have.

It was after midnight when the last bag was packed and she had put on her gray street dress and was ready to leave.