Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald (Illustrated) (490 page)

Doris. He understands. Sure you do, don’t you, Dada? You understand what it’s all about, don’t you, Dada?

Dada
[aggravatingly].
The —  — ?

Charlotte. Oh, let him go. He makes me nervous.

Doris. Maybe he could think out some place where Jerry’s gone. He’s supposed to
think
so much.

Dada. Well, good afternoon. I think I’ll go down to the library.
[Dada goes out by the front door.]

Doris. Listen, Charlotte. I was going to tell you about Joseph — to get your mind off yourself, don’t you remember?

Charlotte. Yes.

Doris. I’ve gotten sort of tired of him. Honestly, I ought to get myself psychoanalyzed.

Charlotte. Why don’t you throw him over then? You ought to know how by this time.

Doris. Of course, having been unlucky in your own marriageable experience, you aren’t in a position to judge what I should do.

Charlotte. Do you love him?

Doris. Well, not — not especially.

Charlotte. Then throw him over.

Doris. I would — except for one thing. You see, it’d be sort of hard.

Charlotte. No, it wouldn’t.

Doris. Yes, it would. It wouldn’t be any cinch.

Charlotte. Why?

Doris. Well, you see I’ve been married to him for three days.

Charlotte
[astounded].
What!

Doris. That isn’t very long, but you see in marriage every day counts.

Charlotte. Well, then, you can’t throw him over.

Doris. It’s next to impossible, I guess.

Charlotte. Was it a secret marriage?

Doris. Yes, there was nobody there but I and Joseph and the fella that did it. And I’m still living at home. You see, this girl that Joe was keeping waiting to see whether he was going to marry me or not, got impatient, and said she couldn’t be kept waiting any longer. It made her sort of nervous. She couldn’t eat her meals.

Charlotte. So you got married. And now you’re tired of him.

Doris. No, not exactly that, but it just sort of makes me uncomfortable, Charlotte, to know that you can’t throw over the man you’ve got without causing a lot of talk. Suppose he took to drink or something. You know everybody can’t get rid of their husbands as easy as you did.

Charlotte. One husband was always enough for me.

Doris. One may be all right for you, Charlotte, because you’re a monographist, but supposing Rodolph Valentino, or the Prince of Wales, or John D. Rockefeller was to walk in here and say: “Doris, I’ve worshipped you from a distance on account of the picture that you sent to the fame and fortune contest of the movie magazine, that got left out by accident or lost or something. Will you marry me?” What would you say, Charlotte?

Charlotte. I’d say no. I’d say, give me back Jerry.

Doris. Would you let having a husband stand in the way of your life’s happiness? I tell you I wouldn’t. I’d say to Joe: “You run up to the store and buy a bag of peanuts and come back in about twenty years.” I would, Charlotte. If I could marry Douglas Fairbanks I’d get rid of Joseph in some peaceful way if I
could
— but if I couldn’t I’d give him some glass cough-drops without a minute’s hesitation.

Charlotte
[horrified].
Doris!

Doris. And I told Joseph so, too. This marriage business is all right for narrow-minded people, but I like to be where I can throw over a fella when it gets to be necessary.

Charlotte. If you had Jerry you wouldn’t feel that way.

Doris. Why, can’t you see, Charlotte, that’s the way Jerry must have felt?

Charlotte, overcome, rises to go.

And, Charlotte, I don’t want to depress you, but if he
is
— if it turns out that he is in the mor — in that place — I know where you can get some simply
stunning
mourning for —  —

Charlotte begins to weep.

Why, what’s the matter? I just thought it’d cheer you up to know you could get it cheap. You’ll have to watch your money, you know.

Charlotte hurries from the room.

Doris. I wonder what’s the matter with her.

Joseph Fish
[outside].
Oh, Doris!

Doris goes to the window.

Doris. How did you know I was here?

Fish
[outside].
They told me at your house. Can I come in?

Doris. Yes, but don’t holler around so. Haven’t you got any respect for the missing?

Fish comes in.

Fish. Doris, I’m awfully sorry about —  —

Doris. Oh, Joseph, haven’t you got any sense? Sitting there last night everything was perfect, and just when I was feeling sentimental you began talking about embalming — in the
twilight.
And I was just about to take out my removable bridge… .

Fish. I’m sorry…  Have they found your sister’s husband yet?

Doris. No.

Fish. Has he gone away permanently? Or for good?

Doris. We don’t know. We’re having the dives combed. Listen, has any one in your family ever had aphasia?

Fish. What’s that?

Doris. Where you go off and fall in love with girls and don’t know what you’re doing.

Fish. I think my uncle had that.

Doris. Sort of dazed?

Fish. Well, sort of. When there was any women around he got sort of dazed.

Doris
[thoughtfully].
I wonder if you could inherit a thing from your uncle.
[She removes her gum secretly.]
What are you chewing, Joe?

Fish. Oh, just an old piece of something I found in my mouth.

Doris. It’s gum. I thought I asked you not to chew gum. It doesn’t look clean-cut for a man to be chewing gum. You haven’t got any sense of what’s nice, Joseph. See here, suppose I was at a reception and went up to Mrs. Astor or Mrs. Vanderbilt or somebody, like this:
[She replaces her own gum in her mouth — she needs it for her imitation.]
How do you do, Mrs. Vanderbilt?
[Chew, chew]
What do you think she’d say? Do you think she’d stand it? Not for a minute.

Fish. Well, when I start going with Mrs. Vanderbilt will be plenty of time to stop.

From outside is heard the sound of a metallic whistle, a melodious call in C major.

What’s that?

Doris. Don’t ask me.

Fish. It’s pretty. It must be some kind of bird.

The whistle is repeated. It is nearer.

There it is again.

Doris goes to the window.

Doris. It’s only the postman.

Fish. I never heard a postman with a whistle like that.

Doris. He must be a new one on this beat. That’s too bad. The old one used to give me my mail wherever I met him, even if he was four or five blocks from my house.

The sound again — just outside the door now.

I’ll let him in.

She goes to the door and opens it. The figure of the new postman is outlined in the doorway against the morning sky. It is Jerry Frost.

But for a particular reason neither Doris nor Joseph Fish recognize him. He is utterly changed. In the gray uniform his once flabby figure appears firm, erect — even defiant.  His chin is up
—
the office stoop has gone. When he speaks his voice is full of confidence, with perhaps a touch of scorn at the conglomerate weaknesses of humanity.

Jerry. Good morning. Would you like some mail?

Doris
[taken somewhat aback].
Why, sure. I guess so.

Jerry. It’s a nice morning out. You two ought to be out walking.

Fish
[blankly].
Huh?

Jerry. Is this number 2127? If it is, I’ve got a good-looking lot of mail for you.

Doris
[with growing interest].
What do you mean, a good looking lot of mail?

Jerry. What do I
mean?
Why, I mean it’s got variety, of course.
[Rummaging in his bag.]
I got eight letters for you.

Doris. Say, you’re new on this beat, aren’t you?

Jerry. Yes, I’m new but I’m good.
[He produces a handful of letters.]
I’m the best one they ever had.

Fish. How do you know? Did they tell you?

Jerry. No, I just feel it. I know my job. I can give any other mailman stamps and post-cards and beat him with bundles. I’m just naturally
good.
I don’t know why.

Doris. I never heard of a mailman being
good.

Jerry. They’re mostly all good. Some professions anybody can get into them, like business or politics for instance, but you take postmen — they’re like angels, they sort of pick ‘em out.
[Witheringly.]
They not only pick ‘em out — they select’em.

Fish
[fascinated].
And you’re the best one.

Jerry
[modestly].
Yes, I’m the best one they ever had.
[He looks over the letters.]
Now here’s what I call a clever ad. Delivered a lot of these this morning.  Children like ‘em, you know. They’re from the carpet company.

Fish. Let’s see it.   
[He takes the ad eagerly.]

Jerry. Isn’t that a nice little thing? And I got two bills for you here. I’ll hide those, though. Still, maybe you want to clear up all your accounts. Some people like to get bills. The old lady next door wanted to get hers. I gave her three and you’d think they were checks. Anyways, these two don’t look very big, from the outside, anyhow. But of course you can’t tell from the outside.

Doris. Let me see them.

Fish. Let me see them too.

They squabble mildly over the bills.

Jerry. The thing is for everybody in the house to write what they guess is the amount of the bill on the outside of the envelope, and then when you open the envelope the one who guessed the closest has to pay the bill.

Fish. Or he could get a prize.

Jerry. Something like that.
[He winks at Doris.]
And here’s a couple of post-cards. They’re sort of pretty ones. This one’s — the Union Station at Buffalo.

Fish. Let me see it.

Jerry. And this one says Xmas greetings. It’s four months late.
[To Doris.]
I guess these are for you.

Doris. No, they’re for my sister.

Jerry. Well, I haven’t read what’s written on the back. I never do. I hope it’s good news.

Doris
[inspecting the backs].
No, they’re from an aunt or something. Anything else?

Jerry. Yes, here’s one more. I think it’s one of the neatest letters I’ve had this morning. Now, isn’t that a cute letter? I call that a cute letter.
[He weighs it in his hand and smells it.]
Smell it.

Doris. It does smell good. It’s a perfume ad.

Fish. Say, that sure does smell good.

Jerry. Well, I’ve done pretty well by
you
this morning. Maybe you got a letter for me.

Doris. No, there’s none to-day.

Jerry. Funny thing: I came near leaving that pink letter with a little girl down the street who looked as if she needed one pretty bad. I thought that maybe it was really meant for her, and just had the wrong name and address on by mistake. It would of tickled her. I get tempted to leave mail where it really ought to go instead of where it’s addressed to. Mail ought to go to people who appreciate it. It’s hard on a postman, especially when he’s the best one they ever had.

Doris. I guess it must be.

Fish. Yeah, it must be tough.

They are both obviously fascinated.

Doris. Well, there’s somebody in this house who needs the right letter something awful. If you get one that looks as if it might do for her you could leave it by here.

Jerry. Is that so? Well, that’s too bad. I’ll certainly keep that in mind. The next one I think’ll do, I’ll leave it by here.

Doris. Thanks.

Jerry, I’ve got one of these special delivery love-letters for a girl around the corner, and I want to hurry up and give it to her, so as to see her grin when she gets it. It’s for Miss Doris —  —

Doris
[interrupting].
That’s me. Give it to me now.

Jerry. Sure. Say, this is lucky.
[He starts to hand it to her.]
Say, listen — why are you like a stenographer?

Doris. Me?

Jerry. Yes.

Doris. I don’t know. Why?

Jerry. Because I say to you, “Take a letter.”

Fish
[wildly amused].
Ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha!

Jerry
[with some satisfaction].
That’s a good one, isn’t it? I made that one up this morning.

Fish. Ha-ha! Ho-ho!