The Complete Stories of Morley Callaghan - Volume Two Read online

  Patterson was irritated because the convention was nearly finished, and few good human-interest stories were left, and all afternoon he had been walking in the hot sun, talking to stray Rotarians, hoping to pick up something, and of course Bassler had to send out a man like Hendricks to spoil the fat lady story.

  “She ought to be over in the flower building in half an hour,” he said, turning away and going out the door. Hendricks hurried after him, tapping his heel with the heavy cane.

  “Just a minute, Pat,” he said.

  “I’m in a hurry.”

  “But it’s really too hot, don’t you think?”

  “Of course it’s too hot.”

  “See here, Pat, you know this place better than I do. Where is a good tree?”

  They found a tree near the lake. Hendricks took off his coat and made a pillow. He lay down, putting the cane carefully alongside his leg. He tilted the black hat over his eyes.

  “What about the fat lady?” Patterson asked.

  “Let her go to hell,” Hendricks said.

  Patterson didn’t see him again till two o’clock in the morning. All the Rotarians had come out to the Exhibition grounds for the banquet, cars were jammed on the road along the waterfront, and Patterson and Lang were very busy. They saw Hendricks at two o’clock in the morning in the Empire office. He was bringing in a fake interview with the fat lady, who had avoided him, he said. Lang, who was in good humor because the convention was over, said the three of them should go across to Bowles’ for a cup of coffee.

  They drank coffee and smoked cigarettes till Hendricks said, “I thought I’d tell you fellows I was quitting the job.”

  “When?” Patterson asked.

  “Oh, in about three weeks.”

  He understood that Bassler was letting him out anyway, so he had decided to quit. Three months was a long time in one place. He had written his resignation to take effect in three weeks, and Bassler couldn’t decently fire him in the meantime.

  “I heard the little beast Bronson talking to Bassler,” he explained. In any event he had intended to go west. There was a shortage of farm laborers. Lang was sympathetic. They talked about the West, and harvesting. Hendricks told them his uncle had a coffee plantation in Brazil, where he had been most of last year. He had intended to go on down to the Argentine, but had had to change his plans. He talked sincerely and more rapidly than usual.

  “It all helps, all sort of fits in,” he said.

  “There’s no doubt, it’s great experience,” Patterson said.

  “Yes, it is, and say, have you fellows ever read Anna Karenina?” He began to talk about the book and Tolstoi, fingering the brim of his hat. Anna Karenina was the most wonderful book in the world, he said. He wanted to write one book. He didn’t want to be an author, just write one book something like Anna Karenina.

  “So I know what I want to do,” he said mildly. “And there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “But what do you know about harvesting?”

  “Not a damned thing.”

  At eight o’clock one evening Patterson and his girl went down to the station to say good-bye to Hendricks. The waiting room and the station platform were crowded with harvesters, old men, students, bums, hunkies, looking for work. They carried heavy bags and bundles. Patterson and his girl walked along the platform, looking for Hendricks on the harvesters’ special. The train was crowded, harvesters singing sentimental songs, playing mouth-organs and ukuleles, groups having a good time, ready for the long trip.

  Patterson saw him leaning out of the window. His suit was pressed carefully and he had on the big hat. He was keeping time to a song, his arm out of the window, banging his thick cane against the side of the car. His cheeks looked shiny and pink. He waved his hat at Patterson’s girl.

  “Oh, what a shame,” he said grinning.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I never got a chance to mix a salad for you. What a shame.”

  Patterson, who seemed suddenly to have become fond of Hendricks, asked him quietly if he was sure he ought to go harvesting, the work was so heavy.

  “If I don’t like it, I don’t necessarily have to keep at it,” he said smiling. “But the transportation is much cheaper this way, though, don’t you think so?”

  When the train moved out, he was leaning far out of the window, waving the big hat, and smiling.

  Let Me Promise You

  Alice kept on returning to the window. Standing with her short straight nose pressed against the window pane, she watched the rain falling and the sidewalk shining under the streetlight. In her black crêpe dress with the big white nun-like collar and with her black hair drawn back tight from her narrow nervous face she looked almost boldly handsome.

  Earlier in the evening it had started to snow, then it had begun to drizzle and now the rain was like a sharp sleet. As Alice stood at the window, she began to wish that the ground had been covered with an unbroken layer of fine thin snow, a white sheet that would remain undisturbed till Georgie came, his single line of footprints marking a path up to her door. Though her eyes remained open, she began to dream of a bitterly cold dry evening, of Georgie with a red scarf and a tingling face bursting in on her, his arms wide open. But the wind drove the sleet steadily against the pane. Sighing, she thought, “He won’t come in such weather. But he would if it weren’t for the weather. I can’t really expect him tonight.” She walked away from the window and sat down.

  Then her heart began to thump so slowly and heavily she could hardly move, for someone was knocking. Opening the door in a rush, she cried, “Georgie, I’m so glad you came,” and she put out her hands to help him off with his dripping coat. In the light belted coat he looked very tall and he had a smooth round face that would never look old. The wind and the rain had left his face wet and glowing, but he was pouting because he was uncomfortable in his damp clothes. As he pushed his fair wavy hair back from his eyes, he said, “This isn’t exactly a night for visiting.” He sat down, still a bit embarrassed by her enthusiasm, and he looked around the room as if he thought that he had made a mistake in coming and didn’t expect to be very comfortable. “It’s rotten out on a night like this when it can’t make up its mind to snow or rain. Maybe you didn’t think I’d come.”

  “I wanted you to come, and because I wanted it, I thought you would, I guess,” she said candidly. So many days seemed to have passed since she had been alone with Georgie that now she wanted to take his head in her hands and kiss him. But she felt too shy. A year ago, she knew, he would have been waiting anxiously for her to kiss him.

  “Alice,” he said suddenly.

  “What’s bothering you, Georgie, frowning like that?”

  “What did you want me for? You said you wanted to speak about something in particular.”

  “Such curiosity. You’ll just sit there unable to rest till you find out, I suppose,” she said. She knew he was ill at ease, but she wanted to pretend to herself that he was just impatient and curious. So her pale handsome face was animated by a warm secret delight as she went across the room to a chest of drawers and took out a long cardboard box which she handed to him after making a low girlish curtsey. “I hope you like it . . . darling,” she said shyly.

  “What’s this? What’s the idea?” Georgie said, as he undid the box and pulled out the tissue paper. When he saw that she was giving something to him, he became embarrassed and almost too upset to speak, and then, because he did not want to hurt her, he tried to be full of enthusiasm, “Lord, look at it,” he said. “A white, turtleneck sweater. If I wore that I’d look like a movie actor in his spare time.” Grinning at her, he took off his coat and pulled the white sweater over his shirt. “Do I look good? How about a mirror, Al?”

  Alice held the mirror in front of him, watching him with a gentle expression of devotion and feeling contentment she had hardly dared to hope for. The high-necked sweater made his fair head look like a faun’s head.

  “It’s pretty s
well, Al,” he said, but now that he couldn’t go on pleasing her with enthusiasm, his embarrassment increased. “You shouldn’t be giving me this, Al,” he said. “I didn’t figure on anything like this when you phoned and said you wanted to see me.”

  “Today is your birthday, Georgie.”

  “Imagine you remembering that. You shouldn’t be bothering with birthday presents for me now.”

  “I thought you’d like the sweater,” she said. “I saw it this afternoon. I knew it would look good on you.”

  “But why give me anything, Al?” he said.

  “Supposing I want to?”

  “You shouldn’t waste your money on me.”

  “Supposing I have something else, too,” she said teasing him.

  “What’s the idea, Al?”

  “I saw something else, something you used to want an awful lot. Do you remember? Try and guess.”

  “I can’t imagine,” he said, but his face got red and he smiled awkwardly at being forced in this way to remember a time which only made him feel uncomfortable when he recalled it.

  Laughing huskily because she was able to tease him as she used to do, she moved lazily over to the chest of drawers, and this time took out a small leather watchcase. “Here you are,” she said.

  “What is it, let me see,” he said, for he couldn’t help being curious. He got up. But when he held the watch in his hand, he had to shake his head to conceal his satisfaction. “It’s funny the way you knew I always wanted something like that, Al,” he said. All his life he had wanted an expensive wristwatch and he was so pleased now that he smiled serenely.

  But after a moment he put the watch irresolutely on the table. “You’re a great girl, Al,” he was saying, “I don’t know anybody like you.” He added, “Is it never going to stop raining? I’ve got to be on my way.”

  “You’re not going now, George, are you?”

  “I promised to see a fellow. He’ll be waiting.”

  “George, don’t go. Please don’t,” she said. He was ashamed to be going, especially if he picked up the watch from the table, but he felt if he stayed it would be like beginning everything all over again. He didn’t know what to do about the watch. He put out his hand, knowing she was watching him, and picked it up.

  “So you’re just coming here like this and then going?” she said.

  “I’ve got to.”

  “Have you got another girl?”

  “I don’t want another girl.”

  “Yet you won’t stay a little while with me?”

  “That’s over, Al. I don’t know what’s the matter with you. You phoned and wanted me to drop in for a moment.”

  “It wasn’t hard to see that you liked looking at the watch more than at me,” she said moodily.

  “Here, if you don’t want me to take the watch, all right,” he said, and with relief he put it back on the table, and smiled.

  For a moment she stared at the case, almost blinded by her disappointment, and hating his smile of relief, and then she cried out, “You’re just trying to humiliate me. Take it out of my sight.” She swung the back of her hand across the table, knocked the case to the floor and the watch against the wall where the glass broke, and trying not to cry, she clenched her fists and glared at him.

  He didn’t look at her. With his mouth open, he looked longingly at the watch, for he realized how much he wanted it now that he saw it smashed on the floor. He had always wanted such a watch. His blue eyes were innocent with the sincerity of his full disappointment. “Al,” was all he said.

  The anger began to go out of her, and she felt how great was his disappointment. She felt helpless. “I shouldn’t have done that, Georgie,” she said.

  “It was a crazy thing to do. It was such a beauty,” he said. “Why did you do it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. She knelt down and started to cry. “Maybe it’s not broken much,” she faltered, on her knees and picking up the pieces of glass carefully. In her hand she held the pieces but her eyes were blinking so that she could not see them. “It was a crazy thing to do,” she was thinking. “It helps nothing. Why does he stand there like that? Why doesn’t he move?” She looked up at him and saw his round smooth chin above the white neck of the sweater, and her dark eyes were shining with tears, for it seemed, as he watched her without speaking or moving, that everything ought to have turned out differently. They both looked at the broken pieces of glass she held in her hand in such abject despair, and for that moment while they looked, they began to share a common, bitter disappointment which made Georgie gravely silent and drew him close to her. “Never mind, Al,” he said with tenderness. “Please get up.”

  “Go away. Leave me alone.”

  “You’ve got to get up from there. I can’t stand here like this with you there.”

  “I know I’m mean and jealous. I wish someone would shake me and hurt me. I’m a little cat.”

  “No, you’re not, Al. Who’d want to shake you? Please get up,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  “Say you’ll stay, Georgie,” she said, holding on to his hand. “It’s so warm here. It’s miserable outside. Just listen to the wind. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “It’s no worse than when I came,” he said, but his sudden tenderness for her was making him uneasy. He had known Al so well for a long time, she had been one of his girls, one he could feel sure of and leave at any time, but now he felt that he had never looked right at her and seen her before. He did not know her. The warmth of her love began to awe him. Her dark head, her pale oval face seemed so close to him that he might have put out his hand and touched her and felt her whole ardent being under the cloth of her dress. Faltering, he said, “Al, I never got you right. Not in this way. I don’t want to go. Look how I want to stay.”

  “Georgie, listen to me,” she said eagerly. “I’ll get that watch fixed for you. Or I’ll get a new one. I’ll save up for it. Or I’ll get you anything else you say.”

  “Don’t think about it,” he said shamefaced.

  “But I want so much to do it, and you can look forward to it. We both can look forward. Please let me promise it to you.”

  She was still crouched on the carpet. He glanced at her handsome dark face above the white nun-like collar and at her soft pleading eyes. “You look lovely right now, Al,” he said. “You look like a wild thing. Honest to God you do.”

  Touched by happiness, she smiled. Then with all her heart she began to yearn for something more to give him. If there were only more things she had and could give, she thought; if she could only give everything in the world and leave herself nothing.

  She’s Nothing to Me

  He was leaving. Ben hardly knew her at all. Her name was Marjorie Wilson and she lived in a one-room apartment. She was small with large, timid and rather desperate eyes. Her clothes were shabby, her shoes were worn out of shape, her brown felt hat looked heavy for the warm days that were coming on. There must have been times, too, when she did not eat, though every morning she went out with the same little smile on her face. If Ben met her coming in in the evening she would stop and say anxiously, “Something will turn up. I’m not really worrying.” When he told her he was going away soon to the country where his uncle had a fine stone place in the hills, she listened with the same patient smile on her face, as if she thought him a nice simple boy. Since she had always lived in the city, she did not imagine she would like the country. She talked to him in the hall, one side of her pale face and the corner of a serious eye showing under the brim of her brown hat.

  Often Ben talked about her with Tony Agricola whose apartment was on the same floor. Tony was a big fellow with very broad shoulders, and olive skin and soft, furtive, uneasy eyes who always had money and women friends, even if he did not seem to work. People who knew him used to whisper about how he made his money, and the kind of women he brought into his apartment. But he was always cheerful; he had even offered to get Ben a girl, and he was so compassionate tha
t Ben had let Tony lend him money. They played billiards together and had a drink, and they sat around talking lazily about Marjorie Wilson. There were many nights when Ben lay awake listening to the laughter of women and the loud conversation in Tony’s room, wondering if Marjorie Wilson might ever go in there, too. There were mornings when he heard Tony getting up and moving slowly around the room, and after listening to all these small movements for months Ben felt that he knew Tony’s life.

  The night Ben was in his room packing and getting ready to go on his vacation in the morning, he was thinking eagerly of being away from the city and in the country. On the warm nights the room was stuffy and the faded, yellowish paper on the walls made it seem hotter than ever. He was whistling to himself when he heard a faint knock at the door. He opened the door and saw Marjorie Wilson standing there timidly. She had no hat on and her black hair was loose around her face. She looked so very lovely he felt embarrassed. “Hello, Miss Wilson,” he said. “Won’t you come in?”

  “Thank you,” she replied, “I just wanted to speak to you for a moment.” She came in but kept on walking across the room instead of sitting down. There was a little touch of color in her cheeks, and a kind of restless excitement in her movements, in the way she swung around when she was at the other side of the room, in the way she opened her mouth as if she wanted to get a deep breath.

  “You look as if you have been running,” he said, jokingly.

  But she did not answer; she only glanced at him quickly. She looked as if she had been worried into some kind of excitement. Even when he saw the little imperturbable smile coming on her face he was sure that inside there had been no change. “Won’t you sit down?” he asked, feeling dreadfully shy because she seemed so pretty in such a startled way. Maybe it was because he was seeing her for the first time without her old brown hat, and her black hair was so thick and glossy. She sat down opposite him and began to talk vaguely about many trivial matters they had sometimes mentioned. Her light blue dress was pulled down demurely so that little more than her ankles were showing, and her feet were very close together. Soon they were talking like two old friends, talking about really nothing until she said, “But I wanted to ask you something, if you don’t mind?”