I think so, said I.
Don’t worry about money, he said. I can lend you whatever you need till then.
Don’t! I said. I’ll manage all right…
You’re a funny guy, he said, squeezing my arm. You don’t have to be shy with me. With me it comes and goes … like that! In this racket you’ve got be well heeled. There are no poor politicians, you know that. How we get it, that’s another matter. So far, I’ve been on the level. Not easy, either … Okay, then. If you won’t take anything now you know where I am when you want it. Any time, remember that!
I grasped his hand.
How about another drink before we go?
I nodded.
Oh, there’s something I overlooked. I may have to put you down as a grave-digger … to begin with. Do you mind? Just for a week or so. You won’t have to break your back, I’ll see to that. Then I’ll move you into the office. You’ll take a load off my back. Say, but won’t I be able to make good use of you! You’re a born letter writer—and that’s half my job.
On the way out … Stick to the writing, Henry. You were born to it. I’d never be in this racket if I had your talent. I had to fight for everything I got. You know, ‘the little dago’.
We’re shaking hands … You won’t let me down now? Promise! And say hello to your dad for me. So long now!
So long, Tony!
I watched him hail a cab and hop in. I waved again.
What luck! Tony Marella, no less. An just when I though the earth was ready to receive me!
8
Strange how things fall out sometimes. You may curse and pray, gibber and whimper, and nothing happens. Then, just when you’re reconciled to the inevitable, a trap door opens, Saturn slinks off to another vector, and the grand problem ceases to be. Or so it seems.
It was in this simple, unexpected way that Stasia informed me one day, during Mona’s absence, that she was going to leave us. If I hadn’t had it from her own lips I wouldn’t have believed it.
I was so stunned, and so delighted at the same time, that I didn’t even inquire why she was leaving. And she, apparently, was in no hurry to volunteer the information. That she was fed up with Mona’s theatrical ways, as she hinted, was hardly sufficient reason for this sudden break.
Would you mind taking a walk with me? she asked. I’d like to say a few things to you in private before I go. My bag is packed.
As we left the house she asked if I had any objection to strolling across the bridge. None at all, I replied. I would have consented to walk to White Plains, if she had suggested it.
The fact that she was leaving awakened my sympathies. She was a strange creature, but not a bad one. Stopping to light a cigarette, I sized her up, detachedly. She had the air of a Confederate soldier back from the war. There was a forlorn look in her eyes, but it was not devoid of courage. She belonged nowhere, that was obvious.
We walked in silence for a block or two. Then, as we made the approach to the bridge, it oozed out of her. Softly she spoke and with feeling, change. As if confiding in a dog. straight ahead, as if blazing a trail.
She was saying that, all in all, I hadn’t been as cruel as I might have been. It was the situation which was cruel, not me. It would never have worked out, not even if we were a thousand times better than we were. She should have known better. She admitted that there had been a lot of play acting, too. She loved Mona, yes, but she wasn’t desperately in love. Never had been. It was Mona who was desperate. Besides, it wasn’t love that bound them as much as a need for companionship. They were lonely souls, both of them. In Europe it might have worked out differently. But it was too late for that now. Some day she would go there on her own, she hoped.
But where will you go now? I asked.
To California probably. Where else?
Why not to Mexico?
That was a possibility, she agreed, but later. First she had to pull herself together. It hadn’t been easy for her, this chaotic bohemian life. Fundamentally she was a simple person. Her one problem was how to get along with others. What had disturbed her most about our way of life, she wanted me to know, was that it gave her little chance to work, I’ve got to do things with my hands, she blurted out. Even if it’s digging ditches. I want to be a sculptor, not a painter or a poet. She hastened to add that I should not judge her by the puppets she had turned out—she had made them only to please Mona.
Then she said something which sounded to my ears like high treason. She said that Mona knew absolutely nothing about art, that she was incapable of distinguishing between a good piece of work and a bad one. Which doesn’t really matter, or rather wouldn’t matter, if only she had the courage to admit it. But she hasn’t. She must pretend that she knows everything, understands everything. I hate pretense. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t get along with people.
She paused to let this sink in. ! don’t know how you stand it! You’re full of nasty tricks, you do vile things now and then, and you’re terribly prejudiced and unfair some times, but at least you’re honest. You never pretend to be other than you are. Whereas Mona … well, there’s no telling who she is or what she is. She’s a walking theatre. Wherever she goes, whatever she’s doing, no matter whom she’s talking to, she’s on stage. It’s sickening … But I’ve told you all this before. You know it as well as I do.
An ironic smile slid over her face. Sometimes … She hesitated a moment. Sometimes I wonder how she behaves in bed. I mean, does she fake that too?
A strange query, which I ignored.
I’m more normal than you would ever think, she continued. My defects are all on the surface. At bottom I’m a shy little girl who never grew up. Maybe it’s a glandular disturbance. It would be funny, wouldn’t it, if taking a few hormones daily should turn me into a typical female? What is it that makes me hate women so much? I was always that way. Don’t laugh now, but honestly, it makes me sick to see a woman squat to pee. So ridiculous … Sorry to hand you such trivia. I meant to tell you about the big things, the things that really bother me.
But I don’t know where to begin. Besides, now that I’m I leaving, what’s the point?
We were now half-way over the bridge. In a few minutes we would be among the pushcart vendors, passing shops whose show windows were always stacked with smoked fish, vegetables, onion rolls, huge loaves of bread, great cart-wheels of cheese, salted pretzels and other inviting edibles. In between would be wedding gowns, full dress suits, stove-pipe hats, corsets, lingerie, crutches, douche pans, bric-a-brac galore.
I wondered what it was she wanted to tell me—the vital thing, I mean.
When we get back, I said, there’ll undoubtedly be a scene. If I were you, I’d pretend to change my mind, then sneak away the first chance you get. Otherwise she’ll insist on going with you, if only to see you home safely.
An excellent idea, she thought. It made her smile. Such a thought would never have occurred to me, she confessed. I have no strategic sense whatever.
All the better for you, said I.
Talking of strategy, I wonder if you could help me raise a little money? I’m flat broke. I can’t hitch hike across the country with a trunk and a heavy valise, can I?
(No, I thought to myself, but we could send them to you later.)
I’ll do what I can, I said. You know I’m not very good at raising money. That’s Mona’s department. But I’ll try.
Good, she said. A few days more or less won’t matter.
We had come to the end of the span. I spotted an empty bench and steered her to it.
Let’s rest a bit, I said.
Couldn’t we get a coffee?
I’ve only got seven cents. And just two more cigarettes.
How do you manage when you’re by your self? she asked.
That’s different. When I’m alone things happen.
God takes care of you, is that it?
I lit a cigarette for her.
I’m getting frightfully hungry, she said, her wings drooping.
If it’s that bad, let’s start back.
I can’t, it’s too far. Wait a while.
I fished out a nickel and handed it to her. You take the subway and I’ll walk. It’s no hardship for me.
No, she said, we’ll go back together … I’m afraid to face her alone.
Afraid?
Yes, Val, afraid. She’ll weep all over the place and then I’ll weaken.
But you should weaken, remember? Let her weep … then say you’ve changed your mind. Like I told you.
I forgot, she said.
We rested our weary limbs a while. A pigeon swooped down and settled on her shoulder.
Can’t you buy some peanuts? she said. We could feed the birds and have a bit for ourselves too.
Forget it! I replied. Pretend that you’re not hungry. It’ll pass. I’ve hardly ever walked the bridge on a full stomach. You’re nervous, that’s all.
You remind me of Rimbaud
