Now and on Earth (5 page)

Well…

By noon I looked like I was wearing yellow gloves. And the stuff wouldn't come off, as I've implied. I had to eat my sandwiches out of the palms of my hands, and the only way I could get a cigarette was to lift it from the package with my lips.

Gross was vastly amused, although he sympathized with me orally, and reiterated his conviction that Moon was crazy.

When I got home that night, Roberta took me into the bathroom and soaked and scrubbed me. She cried real tears. And after supper she was still so sorry for me that we went over to Balboa Park and sat until we were sure that everyone had gone to bed.

We came home. Everything was quiet. I went into the kitchen and got a drink of water, and I heard her drawing the shades and slipping a chair under the doorknob. I waited a minute before I went in. I left the kitchen light on. Roberta knows how she looks, and she likes a little light. She is the only woman I have ever known who did.

I went in. She had put the pillows from the divan upon the floor, and was lying upon them and her slack suit was by her side. She looked up at me and smiled and cupped her breasts in her hands. And she was more white, more beautiful and maddening than I had ever seen her.

I had seen her that way five thousand times, and now I saw her again. Saw her for the first time. And I felt the insane unaccountable hunger for her that I always had. Always, and always will.

And then I was in heaven and in hell at the same time. There was a time when I could drown myself in this ecstasy, and blot out what was to follow. But now the epigamic urgings travel beyond their periphery, kneading painfully against my heart and lungs and brain. A cloud surrounds me, a black mist, and I am smothered. And the horrors that are to come crowd close, observing, and I feel lewd and ashamed.

There is no beauty in it. It is ugly, despicable. For days I will be tortured, haunted, feeble, inarticulate.

And yet, even during those days. Even tomorrow morning when I first awake. Yes, even an hour from now…

About two o'clock in the afternoon, Gross asked me if I wanted to get in the check-pool. I asked him what it was.

"Check poker," he explained. "Each check has a serial number on it, and the man with the best serial-the best hand according to poker rules-wins."

"How much does it cost?"

"Two-bits. There's about a hundred in our pool-in this stockroom, and Sheet-metal, and Sub-assembly, and Receiving. Better come in. You might win twenty-five dollars."

"Can you wait until I get my check cashed?" I asked. "I don't have any change."

"Yes, we can do that," he said.

He started to walk away, hesitated: "Say, you only went to work here Monday, didn't you?"

"That's right."

"Well, hell. You won't get any check today. They hold back a week on you."

I couldn't believe him, reasonable as it was. Probably because I needed that money so badly. I asked Moon about it.

"No, you won't get any today," he admitted. "The time is always made up a week late. You'll get paid for this week next week."

My face must have shown my feelings.

"What's the matter?" he said. "If you absolutely can't make it, Personnel might advance you five or six dollars. They don't like to, but they will sometimes."

"I guess I can make it," I said.

"It seems kind of hard, now, but it's a good thing in the long run. It's pretty nice to know that you've always got a week's pay saved up."

I hated to go home that night. More than usual, I mean. I knew no one would blame me; that is, I couldn't pin them down to blaming me. But there would just be general hell.

When I turned the corner at Second Avenue, I saw a car I recognized sitting in front of the house. So I slipped across our neighbor's yard and went down the driveway until I came to our bedroom. I scratched on the screen, and Roberta came to the window.

"Is that the landlady in there?"

"Yes. Did you get your check cashed?"

"I didn't get any check. I-"

"You didn't get it! Jimmie! Didn't you tell them-"

"Look," I said. "Now stop shouting and listen a minute. They hold back a week's time on everyone. There's nothing I could do about it. It's a company policy. The question is-"

"But didn't you tell them you had to have it? They can't expect you to live on nothing!"

"They don't give a damn whether I live or not. Now the thing to do is go in and tell the old girl what's happened, and that we'll pay her next week."

"Oh, I can't do that, Jimmie!"

"You put her off once, didn't you?" I said. "You rented the place from her. She's never met me. If I go in, she'll think it's a run-around sure enough."

"How are we going to buy groceries?"

"Let's not worry about that now. Go in-"

"But we don't have anything for supper, Jimmie. I don't know what we'll do-"

"Are you going in there and tell her?" I said.

"No, I'm not," said Roberta. "Tell her yourself."

"Well call Mom back then and have her tell her."

Roberta's face hardened. "I'm not asking Mom to do anything! She's already taken my head off once today. Just because I said Frankie didn't wash the bathtub out-and I wasn't mad at all, Jimmie-I was just as friendly as could be. I just remarked that it would make things so much easier on all of us if each one would-"

"Roberta," I said, "are you going to do what I asked you to, or not?"

"No, sir, Jimmie. I am not."

"That's fine," I said. "See you in the morning, maybe."

"Jimmie!
Jimmie!
Where do you think you're going?"

"What's it to you?"

"Jimmie! You can't-"

"Good-by," I said.

"You can't do this, Jimmie!"

"See if I can't!" I said grimly.

And Fate accepted the invitation.

Mack, Jo, and Shannon came roaring around the corner of the house and threw themselves upon me.

"Daddy!" they shouted. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Did we get paid? Can we count the money? Can we have some-"

Above the turmoil I heard Mom's voice, starched with amusement. "I believe Mr. Dillon's here now. If you'll just wait a moment…"

I went in. It wasn't as bad as I expected. In one way, that is.

The old girl is one of those people who are nuts about writers-any kind-and she'd actually read some of my stuff. So, instead of being a deadbeat, I was an eccentric. I was working in aircraft to get material for a book; she said so herself. As for the money-well, of course, I will have to have it, Mr. Dillon, but next Friday will be perfectly all right. I know how it is with you writers. You're always forgetting and mislaying, and-ha, ha, ha-oh, yes, indeedy! I know how you are! Ha, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha…

I sat there smirking, nervous as a worm in a fish pond, hoping to God that Shannon wouldn't take a notion to beat up on her, or that Mack wouldn't do something in her hat, or that Jo wouldn't say something scathing.

Finally, about six, I laughed her out the door.

It was lucky I got her out when I did. At five after six Frankie and Clarence arrived. Clarence is Portuguese, an ex-fisherman now employed as a carpenter in the shipyard where Frankie works. They had an unknown quantity of beer inside them, and they were carrying a sixty pound tuna.

That is all right with me. I'd as soon-rather-stay at the plant than go home; and anything over forty hours a week pays time-and-a- half. And I must have more money.

I've said that I wasn't happy when I had money any more than I am now. That's only relatively true. As I remember, Pop didn't get along much better with us when he had money than when he was broke, although God knows that wasn't our fault. But we were a little more chary about jumping down his throat, and the same thing applies in my case. Things weren't as bad when I had money. Roberta had some way of entertaining herself besides keeping me in an uproar. I could give Mom a lift instead of saying I don't know what to do either. When things got too bad, I could hide out in a hotel for a day or two. Or take a trip. Or-well, just get up and walk around the block and come back when I got ready.

No, I can't even do that now. It sounds ridiculous, but I can't. I've tried it, and there's always trouble. Of course, if I will explain the exact route I am going to take, and why I want to go out, and when I will be back, and allay any suspicions arising from the fact that I want to be alone, then I can go. If I want to.

Roberta and I have been over and over this matter, and it is always the same:

"But, Jimmie. What if I just got up and walked out? What would you think?"

"Do you really want to do things like that, too, Roberta?"

"I feel like it sometimes. What would you think if I got up and walked out, and didn't say where I was going or when I was coming back? You'd think it was mighty funny, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose I would."

"Don't you see that when I want to know where you are it's just because I love you so much? You wouldn't like it if I didn't care, would you?"

''No.''

"I get awfully tired sitting around the house all day, too, Jimmie. I don't think I'm asking too much when I want to go walking with you."

"Oh, of course you're not, honey-"

"And the children just worship you-you know that-and they get to be with you so little. Don't you like to be around them any more?"

"Oh, Roberta!"

"Well?"

Well?

I don't know.

I think money would help.

Frankie gave us an extra week in advance on her board, so, what with the tuna, we had enough to scrape by on. We had an awfully good dinner Saturday night-baked tuna, and whipped potatoes, and avocado salad-the first good meal we've had since I don't know when. I'd had a good bath and put on my suit of clothes. Frankie'd brought home half a pint of gin someone had donated to her, and we'd all had Tom Collinses. The children were so busy stuffing themselves that they couldn't start anything, and-well, everything was swell. I had a week's work behind me, and Roberta's thigh was pressing against mine, and she was laughing at some joke Frankie was telling, and Mom was getting off some wisecracks of her own. And-it was simply swell. I felt so good that tears came into my eyes.

Then Jo said, "Will you please transmit the tubers?" Roberta looked at her and stopped smiling. "Now none of your smartness," she said. "If you want something, ask for it right."

Jo stopped smiling also. "I want some potatoes, please."

"Why don't you ask for them, then?"

"All right, Mother," said Jo. "Please pass the potatoes."

I passed them. I was mad, but I wanted to get over it, and I thought I'd better pass it off as a joke. Jo can take a lot if you give her a joke to chase it with.

"We don't allow foreign languages around here," I said. "Absolutely no English."

She grinned half-heartedly, watching Roberta out of the corner of her eyes.

"That's right," said Roberta. "Go ahead and laugh. You and your daddy think you're awfully smart, don't you?"

"Leave her alone, honey," I said. "Let's finish one meal in peace."

"Jo didn't mean anything, did you, Jo?" said Mom.

"I meant what I said," said Jo.

"I know what she meant," snapped Roberta. "She can just stay in after dinner and do the dishes. That'lI take some of the smartness out of her."

"May I go out afterwards?" asked Jo. "I'm supposed to practice a play with-"

"No, you may not go out afterwards! You'll go to bed. I'm getting tired of you gadding around all hours of the night."

"Mama mean to Jo," Mack observed wisely. Roberta whirled and slapped him, and his fat face puckered and he bawled. Shannon's eyes flickered dangerously. She will beat the stuffing out of Mack herself, but it infuriates her to see anyone else touch him. She slid under the table. Roberta knew what was coming, and she tried to kick her chair back; she even kicked Shannon. But, of course, that wouldn't stop her. In a split second Shannon had buried her teeth in Roberta's leg.

Roberta let out a scream that they must have heard down on the waterfront. She got to her feet-or rather foot-stumbled, and fell backward. And Shannon slid out from under the table, following her, and there was blood trickling from the corners of her mouth.

I grabbed her by the legs and pulled, and Roberta screamed louder than ever. She dropped down on the floor, shrieking hysterically, and began striking Shannon in the face. Shaking her by the hair. Clawing, and scratching, and screaming. Screaming for us to do something. To stop standing around and do-OoooooOOO! JIMMIE!

I got Shannon by the nose, and shut off her wind. But she merely held on with her middle teeth, and began to breathe out of the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, unblinking, and there was a fiendish animal joy in them. I could have choked her loose of course. Or, rather, some people could. I couldn't.

Jo tried tickling her. Mom poured ice water on her until the floor was covered an inch deep. We all threatened-and tried-to blister her. It was useless. It looked as though we were settled there for the night-Roberta sobbing and pleading; Shannon, jaws set, laughing hilariously inside her tiny body.

It was Frankie who got her loose.

"All right, Shannon," she said. "The next time I bring any boys home, just don't expect to be introduced."

Shannon looked at her, hesitated, and opened her mouth. And Roberta jerked free. She had been bitten badly. I know it must have hurt a great deal.

"You've got to spank her, Jimmie," she wailed. "You've just got to take her in hand!"

"Dammit," I said. "I can't spank her!"

And I certainly couldn't have by that time. Shannon had got to the open door and was standing with her back to it.

"Why won't you introduce me, Frankie?" she said. "Huh! Think I'm going to introduce a cannibal like you to anyone?"

"What's a cannibal?"

"That's what you are. Someone that eats people." Shannon threw back her head and her falsetto laugh filled the room.

"Jimmie!" snapped Roberta, rubbing her leg. "Are you going to punish that child, or not?"

I got up; and Shannon took pity on me. She ran. By the time I got to the door she had disappeared. I went out and looked around the house and called her. But there wasn't any answer.

I went back inside. "She's gone," I said.

"She'll be all right," said Mom. "She's probably gone over to the drugstore. She hasn't been over there yet today."

"What's she doing over there? That's three blocks away."

"They give her a nickel's worth of stuff every day to leave them alone."

I turned on Roberta. "You pay them for it, don't you? You don't let her go around blackmailing people?"

"No, I don't," said Roberta. "I didn't ask 'em to give her anything."

"Give me some money," I said.

"What for?"

"What for? Good God, Roberta! What's getting into you? How many other places is she pulling this stunt?"

Mom and Roberta looked at each other.

"Out with it," I said.

"Well, I don't believe she has any other place but the grocery store," said Mom. "And it was-"

"Oh, my God!"

"It was just once, Jimmie," said Roberta. "Just this morning. She wanted some bacon for breakfast, and we didn't have any. So-she went down to the store and got a half-pound."

"Oh God damn!" I said. "Well, I'm going after her. If I've got to bring in the money and buy the groceries and do every other damned thing around here-"

"Keep your shirt on," said Frankie.

"But, Frankie!" I said. "The child isn't five years old yet. What'll she be like when-"

"I'll go get her," said Frankie. "I've got to get a neck clip, anyway. She can sit in the beauty parlor with me until I'm through."

"Yes, but the money-"

"If you want something to worry about," said Roberta, "you might look at my leg."

And I gave up. Mom and I helped her back to the bedroom and doctored her leg.

Jo went to practice her play.

Frankie went after Shannon.

About ten-thirty, after the others had gone to bed, she and Shannon came in. Shannon threw her arms around me and kissed me and said she was going to be good all next day. And I was relieved, because I knew that she would remember and keep her promise. A promise is a sacred thing with Shannon. I think one reason that she has so little use for us is that we have made so many promises to her that we haven't kept. But that may not be it. If I were she, I'd dislike us just on general principles.

She unfolded one tiny fist and dropped something into my lap. A nickel.

"I didn't get candy," she explained proudly. "I told the man I wanted a nickel. For you to buy whisky with."

I choked and started to swear, and then I thought, Oh, hell, what
is
the use. So I kissed her good-night again, and she and Frankie went to bed.

About fifteen minutes later, when I was settling down with a magazine, Mom came in wearing the old wrapper she sleeps in and sat down on the lounge.

"I thought you'd gone to bed," I said.

"Frankie woke me up… I wish you'd speak to Frankie, Jimmie."

"What about?"

"You know. About her drinking, and everything."

"Frankie can carry liquor," I said. "She's the one person I've seen that it really did good. She never drinks to keep from feeling bad. It's always to make her feel better."

"Well, it's a bad thing, anyway. It's cheapening and coarsening. She's going to take one drink too many with some of these fellows, and it'll be too bad."

"Frankie's not like that."

"You don't know what she's like. No one does."

"Oh, all right," I said. "I'll speak to her."

"I wish you would… What do you think we'd better do about Pop, Jimmie?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mom," I said. "Look. Haven't we had enough trouble for one evening? Do we have to thresh out everything now?"

"We are going to have to do something, Jimmie."

"Don't I know it? Am I holding back? But I can't think tonight. I just can't."

Mom looked down at her hands. "Do you suppose if I rented a typewriter-"

"Please don't ask me that, Mom."

"Don't you think it's a lot in your own mind, Jimmie? Don't you think that if you really tried-"

I laughed. "That's it," I said. "I haven't really tried. Not really. You get me a typewriter Monday and I'll go to work again."

The sarcasm was wasted on Mom. I might have known it would be. I'm always broadcasting when I should be receiving.

"That's a bargain," she said, getting up. "I'll get the typewriter and have the table cleared for you right after supper. All you'll have to do is write."

All I'll have to do is write…

So I had that to worry about.

I thought I was hungry. I told myself I was. I threw down the magazine and went into the kitchen. I made a big pot of coffee and a plate of tuna sandwiches. I started to eat.

The first sandwich started coming up as I was biting into the second. I kept right on eating. Take it, damn you, I said, you've had your own way long enough. I swallowed, and stuffed a whole sandwich down my throat. I threw my head back, and tossed down a cupful of scalding coffee.

That did it. I strangled and a geyser spewed out, splashing over the walls and floor. I got over the sink, and there was a tidal wave of it. I couldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. There wasn't any more fish in me, but there was plenty of blood. I brought up a cupful with every gasp. I didn't have to cough. A deep breath was enough to start it rolling.

Then Roberta was there with her arm around me. She sat me down in a chair and fed me cold water.

"What have you been doing to yourself, Jimmie?"

"Nothing," I whispered.

"Did you really want a drink that bad?"

"No," I said. "I just thought I wanted one. Besides, we don't have the money to throw away."