Towards evening we entered Durham. A telegram was waiting for me, sure enough. It read: Sorry son but I haven’t a cent in the bank. I felt like weeping, not over our own plight but because of the humiliation it must have caused the old man to send a message like that.
Thanks to a stranger, we had had a sandwich and coffee around noon. We were now famished, more famished than ordinarily, of course, because of the impossible distance still to go on an empty stomach. There was nothing to do but take to the road again, which we did—like automatons.
As we were standing on the highway, too tired and defeated to trudge another step, as we stood there blankly watching the sun go down like a burst tomato, all of a sudden a rather snazzy car pulled up and a cheery voice called out—Want a lift? It was a couple headed for some little town about two hours distant. The man was from Alabama, and spoke with the accent of a man of the deep South, the woman was from Arkansas. They were cheerful, lively individuals who seemed not to have a care in the world.
On the way we had car trouble, one little thing after another. Instead of making it in two hours it took almost five. By the time we reached our destination, thanks to the delays, we had become firm friends. We had told them the truth about ourselves, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and it had gone straight to their hearts. I shall never, never forget the way that good woman, immediately we entered the house, rushed to the bathroom, filled the tub with hot water, laid out the soap and towels, and begged us to relax while she scared up a meal. When we reappeared, clothed in their bathrobes, the table was set; we sat down at once to an excellent meal of hash and friend eggs with hot muffins, coffee, preserves, fruit and pie. It was about three in the morning when we turned in. At their request we slept in their bed, never realizing until we awoke that our kind hosts had improvised a bed for themselves by removing the seats from the car.
When we got up, around noon, we had a hearty breakfast, after which the man showed me around his huge backyard where the remains of cars were strewn about. Wrecks were his livelihood. He was certainly a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow, and his wife even more so. Our unexpected visit seemed to make them slap-happy. Why we didn’t stay with them a few days, as they begged us to do, I don’t know.
As we made ready to leave, the woman took Mona to one side and furtively pressed a few bills in her hand, while the husband shoved a carton of cigarettes under my arm. They insisted on driving us out of town a little distance so that we might get a lift more easily. When we finally parted they had tears in their eyes.
It was getting on and we were bent on making Washington that day. We would have made it too, were it not for the fact that we got nothing but short hauls. By the time we sailed into Richmond it was nightfall.
And again we were broke. The few dollars the woman had given us had disappeared—the purse with it. Had someone robbed us of those miserable few dollars? If so, it was a grim joke. However, we felt too good, tool near our goal, to be depressed over the loss of our little fortune.
Time to eat again…
With a calculating eye we scanned the various I restaurants and finally decided on a Creek one. would eat first, then explain our predicament. We put away a good meal, with extra helpings of dessert, and! then gently broke the news to the proprietor. Our story made no impression on him whatever, or rather, it made the wrong impression. All he could think of—hardly solution!—was to call the police. In a few minutes motorcycle cop appeared. After the usual grilling he asked us point blank what we intended to do about the situation. I said that if he would pay for the wire would send a message to New York, that undoubtedly the money would be forthcoming in the morning. He thought this a reasonable idea and volunteered to put us up in a hotel nearby. He then turned to the Greek and informed him that he would be responsible for us. All of which struck me as damned decent.
I dispatched a message to Ulric, not without misgivings. The cop escorted us to our room and said he would be round to see us early the next morning. Despite the fact that we were from New York, he showed us uncommon consideration. A New York cop, I couldn’t help but reflect, was a horse of another color.
During the night I got up to make sure the proprietor hadn’t locked us in. I found it impossible to close my eyes. As the night wore on I felt more and more certain that there would be no answer to our telegram.
To slip out without the night clerk spying us was impossible. I got up, went to the window, and looked out. It was a drop of about six feet to the ground. That settled it: we’d leave by the window at dawn.
As the sun came up we were again standing on the highway a mile or two outside the town. We still had our two little grips. Instead of making a bee-line for Washington we headed for Tappahannock—just in case the cop might be on our trail. As luck would have it we got a lift in jig time. No breakfast, of course, and no lunch. En route we ate a few green apples, which gave us the colic.
A little distance out of Tappahannock a lawyer en route to Washington picked us up. A charming fellow, well read, easy to talk to. We gave him an earful in the time allotted us. It must have taken effect because, as we were saying good-bye to him in Washington, he insisted on lending us twenty dollars. He said he was lending it, but what he meant very plainly was that we were to spend it and forget about it. As he toyed with the brake he mumbled over his shoulder:
I once tried to be a writer myself.
We were so elated we couldn’t get home fast enough. Around midnight we landed in the big city. The first thing we did was to phone Kronski. Could he put us up for the night? Certainly. We dove into the subway and made for the Bronx where he was again living.
The subway was a doleful sight to our eyes. We had forgotten how pale and worn the people looked, we had forgotten what a stench the city gave off. The treadmill. Trapped again.
Well, at least we were on familiar ground. Maybe someone would be glad to see us after the lapse of a few months. Maybe I’d look for a job in real earnest.
The sixth joy goes like this—how appropriate!
The very next joy Mary had
It was the joy of six
To see her little Jesus
On the crucifix.
And here is Dr. Kronski…
Well well! Back again! I told you so. But don’t think you can camp out on us. No sir! You can stay the night, but that’s all. Have you eaten? I’ve got to get up early. There are no clean towels, don’t ask for any. You’ll have to sleep in the raw. And don’t expect your breakfast served in bed. Good night! All in one breath.
We cleared the cots of medical books and scraps of food, pulled back the gray sheets, noticed the blood stains but said nothing, and crawled in.
O COME ALL YE OUT OF THE WILDERNESS AND GLORY BE!
15
In a Buddhist magazine not long ago I read something like this: If we could only get what we want when we think we need it life would present no problem, no mystery, and no meaning. I was a trifle indisposed the morning I read this. I had decided to spend the day in bed. Reading these words, however, I began to howl with laughter. In less than no time I was up and out of bed, chirping away as merrily as usual.
If I had come across this piece of wisdom in the period I am writing of I doubt if it would have had any effect upon me. It was just impossible for me to take a detached view of things. The day was full of problems, full of complications. There was mystery in everything, irritating mystery. The mystery surrounding the universe—that was sheer intellectual luxury. The whole meaning of life was wrapped up in the solution of how to keep afloat. It sounds simple, but we knew how to complicate even such a simple problem.
Disgusted with our haphazard way of life, I made up my mind to take a job. No more gold-digging, No more chasing rainbows. I was determined to earn sufficient for the daily necessities, come what may. I knew it would be a blow to Mona. The very thought of taking a job was anathema to her. Worse
