But where in hell have you been all this time? I did my best to growl. I knew everything must have passed off well—she was too radiant for it to have been otherwise.
Let’s eat first, she begged. It’s a long story.
Did you get the check—that’s all I want to know.
She waved it before my eyes.
That same afternoon we ordered a slew of things at the department store; they were to be delivered the next day, by which time we hoped to cash the check. The morrow came and still we hadn’t cashed the check. The clothes, of course, went back to the department store. In despair we put the check through a bank, which meant a delay of several days at least.
Meanwhile a serious altercation had broken out between Mona and the blue-nosed harridan of a landlady. It seems that in the midst of a conversation with the beautiful Syrian woman next door the landlady bad erupted into the garden and begun hurling names at the Syrian woman. Outraged, Mona had insulted the old bitch, whereupon the latter took to abusing her in fantastic terms, saying that she was a Syrian too, and a whore, and this and that. The fracas almost ended in a hair-pulling match.
The upshot of it all was that we were given a week’s notice to get out. Since we intended to leave anyway we were not unhappy about it. There was one thought, however, which rankled in me: how to get even with the old bitch?
It was Stanley who showed me the way. Since we were clearing out for good, why not pay her back in regal style? Fine, I said, but how? In his mind it was simple. He would bring the kids along, as usual, on the last day; he would hand them the ketchup bottle, the mustard, the fly paper, the ink, the flour, everything with which to do the devil’s work. Let them do whatever comes into their heads,’ he said. How’s that? He added: Kids love to do whatever is destructive.
Myself I thought it a marvelous idea. I’ll give them a hand, I said. When it comes to dirty work. I’m a bit of a vandal myself.
The day after we planned this campaign of despoliation we received word from the bank that our check was no good. Frantic telephone calls to Tony Maurer—and to Milwaukee. Our millionaire had disappeared—as if the earth had swallowed him. For a change, we were the victims of a hoax. I had a good laugh at myself, despite my chagrin.
But what to do now?
We broached the news to Stanley. He took it philosophically. Why not move into his flat? He would take the mattress off his bed and put it on the floor in the parlor—for us. They never used the parlor. As for food, he guaranteed that we wouldn’t starve.
But where will you sleep? Or how, rather? I asked.
On the springs, he said.
But your wife?
She won’t mind. We’ve often slept on the bare floor.
Then he added: After all, it’s only temporary. You can look for a job, and when you get one you can find a place of your own.
O.K. I said, and clasped his hand.
Get your things packed, said Stanley. What have you got to take with you?
Two valises and a typewriter, that’s all.
Get busy then. I’ll put the kids to work. And with this he moved the big horsehair sofa over against the door, so that no one could enter.
While Mona packed the valises I ransacked the cupboard. The kids had been looking forward to his event. They went to it with a vengeance. In ten minutes the place was a wreck. Everything that could be smeared was smeared with ketchup, vinegar, mustard, flour, broken eggs. On the chairs they pasted the fly paper. The garbage they strewed over the floor, grinding it in with their heels. Best of all was the ink work. This they splattered over the walls, the rugs and the mirrors. The toilet paper they made garlands of to festoon the bespattered furniture.
Stanley and I, for our part, stood on the table and decorated the ceiling with ketchup and mustard, with flour and cereals which we had made into a thick paste. The sheets and covers we ripped with knives and scissors. With the big bread knife we gouged out huge chunks of the horse hair sofa. Around the toilet-seat we spread some mouldy marmalade and honey. Everything which could be turned upside-down, dismantled, disconnected or torn apart we turned upside-down, dismantled, disconnected and ripped apart.
Everything was done with quiet commotion. The last bit of destruction I left for the children to perform. It was the mutilation of the sacred Bible. First they doused it in the bath tub, then smeared it with filthy unguents, then tore out handfuls of pages and scattered them about the room. The woeful-looking remnants of the Holy Book we then put in the bird cage which we suspended from the chandelier. The chandeliers themselves we bent and twisted into an unrecognizable shape. We hadn’t time to wash the kids; we wiped them as best we could with the torn sheets. They were radiant with joy. What a job! Never again would they have a chance like this … The last operation finished, we took counsel. Seating the kids on his knees, Stanley gravely instructed them what to do. They were to leave first, by the back exit. They were to walk quietly and leisurely to the front gate, quicken their steps as they moved down the street, then run as fast as they could and wait for us around the corner. As for us, if we encountered the old blue-nosed bitch, we would hand her the keys and bid her good-bye pleasantly. She would have a job to push the door open, assuming that she suspected anything amiss. By that time we would have joined the kids and hopped a taxi.
Everything went as planned. The old lady never made an appearance. I had one valise, Stanley the other, and Mona carried the typewriter. At the corner the children were waiting for us, merry as could be. We caught a taxi and drove to Stanley’s home.
I thought his wife might be a bit put out when she learned what the children had done, but no, she thought it was a wonderful prank. She was delighted that they had had such a holiday. Her only complaint was that they had soiled their clothes. Lunch was waiting for us—cold meats, boloney, cheese, beer and crackers. We laughed our guts out rehearsing the morning’s work.
You see what the Poles are capable of, said Stanley. When it comes to destruction we know no limits. The Poles are brutes at bottom; they’re even worse than the Russians. When they kill they laugh, when they torture they get hysterical with glee. That’s Polish humor for you.
And when they’re sentimental, I added, they give you their last shirt—or the mattress from their bed.
Luckily it was Summertime, for the only covering we had was a sheet and Stanley’s winter overcoat. The place was clean, fortunately, even though poverty-stricken. No two dishes were alike; the knives, forks and spoons, all odd pieces, had been collected from junk heaps. There were three rooms, one after another, all of them dark—the typical railroad flat. There was no hot water, no bath-tub, not even a shower. We bathed in turn at the kitchen sink. Mona wanted to assist with the cooking but Sophie, his wife, wouldn’t hear of it. All we had to do was to roll up our mattress each day and sweep the floor. Now and then we washed the dishes.
It wasn’t bad at all, not for a temporary flop. The neighborhood was depressing, to be sure—we were living in the dumps, only a few doors from the elevated line. The worst thing about the situation was that Stanley slept in the day time. However, he slept only about five hours. He ate sparingly, I noticed. The one thing he couldn’t do without was cigarettes. He rolled his own, incidentally; it was a habit which he had retained from the old days at Fort Oglethorpe.
The one thing we couldn’t demand of Stanley was cash. His wife doled him out ten cents each day for carfare. When he left for work he took a couple of sandwiches with him wrapped in newspaper. From Tuesday on everything was bought on credit. A depressing routine, but Stanley had been following it for years. I don’t think he ever expected things to be otherwise. So long as they ate every day, so long as the children were nourished and clothed…
Every day Mona and I disappeared towards noon, went our respective ways, and returned in time for dinner. We gave the impression that we were busy scouting for jobs. Mona concentrated on raising little sums to tide us over; I floated about aimlessly, visiting the library, the art museums, or taking in a movie when I could afford it. Neither of us had the least intention of looking for work. We never even mentioned the subject to one another.
At first they were pleased to see Mona returning each day with something for the children. Mona made it a point to return with arms loaded. Besides the food we sorely needed she often brought rare delicacies which Stanley and his wife had never tasted. The
