Hemingway's Girl (34 page)

“No apologies,” said Gavin.

“If you’d like to forget all this silliness, we can just go have a drink and call
it a day.”

Mariella felt her confidence rise. Was Papa nervous?

“It’s your call,” said Gavin.

Mariella thought it was smart of him to put it back in Papa’s hands. Now, if Papa
backed out, he would look like a coward.

“Then we’ll fight,” he said. “Gloves or no?”

“No.”

A nervous twitter went through the crowd, and Mariella cringed. Papa raised his hands
as if to say he tried.

The group spread into a ring around the men. Mariella looked over the crowd and her
eyes found Jane’s. Jane winked at her and inhaled her cigarette. Mariella wished she
hadn’t left hers in the room. Pauline also locked eyes with Mariella and looked anxious.
Mariella looked away and down at the beach by the pier. The Hemingway boys were boxing
in the sand, knocking each other over and wrestling in the surf under the disapproving
gaze of Ada. John pulled out his watch and announced he’d keep time. They’d fight
three-minute rounds. Katy stood next to him biting her nails.

The fight began.

Papa and Gavin circled each other slowly, each one willing the other to make the first
move. They circled so long, the crowd started jeering them. That prompted Papa to
action, and he took a heavy swing at Gavin’s face. Gavin ducked and landed an uppercut
on Papa’s left side. He groaned and so did the crowd.

Papa backed off, then stepped forward and aimed for Gavin’s stomach, making strong
contact and knocking the wind out of him. Gavin recovered and dodged a near miss to
his right cheek. The men started circling again, and Gavin went in for a jab to Papa’s
face. Papa moved his head too slowly and got clipped on the right cheek. It swelled
immediately.

The boys had stopped boxing now, and were watching, cheering their papa on loudly.
The rest of the crowd shouted and cheered for no one and each one. She thought they
all would have wanted to see Papa knocked out, with the exception of Pauline, but
no one would dare voice it.

John called time and the boxers rested. Mariella gave Gavin some water she’d brought.
Pauline mopped the blood off Papa’s
cheek. The men turned quickly back to each other, and the next round began.

Papa was mad. The red blood on the white towel must have ignited something in him,
and he realized the seriousness of the situation. He looked like a bull struck by
a sword at a bullfight, emblazoned with anger and ready to maul.

He came at Gavin with a quick, right-handed one-two-three, followed by a left jab
that missed its target. Papa was back on him with a right uppercut that made soft
contact with Gavin’s side and gave Gavin time to get in a left hook to Papa’s face.
It opened the cut even more and infuriated Papa. He pulled back and struck Gavin’s
chest with a straight jab. Gavin stumbled back, but regained his footing and quickly
circled around Papa. Papa had thrown a lot of hard punches and was breathing heavily.
They spent the remainder of the round circling each other and throwing small punches.
Then John called time.

The clouds, which had been threatening for a while, opened up in a downpour. Gavin
put his head back and shook the rain off his face. Mariella gave him some more water
and followed it with a kiss.

“Get his cheek again,” she said. Gavin nodded and turned back toward Papa.

The crowd was in a frenzy. They sensed Papa’s anger and lack of control and felt that
Gavin might be able to finish him. Mariella felt butterflies in her stomach and couldn’t
help but smile.

John called to start the round, and Gavin stepped forward. Papa again came at Gavin
fast. His feet were heavy, but his fists were sure. Gavin dodged the punches and swung
around quickly. He landed a jab in Papa’s side, but Papa got in a punch on Gavin’s
chin. It slid off Gavin’s face in the rain.

Papa looked exhausted, but to Mariella’s dismay, so did Gavin. She wished he would
come on stronger or would at least go for the wound. As if in response to her thoughts,
Gavin stepped forward
with a quick one-two from his left, followed by a right that again made contact with
Papa’s bloody cheek. The crowd groaned and shouted.

With a loud growl Papa pulled back and knocked Gavin square in the face.

Mariella saw the knockout in slow motion. She heard the sickening crunch of Gavin’s
nose and watched him fall back. Her legs felt too heavy to move, and she heard his
head hit the pier with a terrible thud. The noise silenced the crowd. They could hear
only the lapping of the water against the pilings and the shush of the rain.

Mariella ran to Gavin and lifted his head into her lap, terrified that Papa had killed
him. Blood ran out of Gavin’s nose, and his eyes were closed. Papa shook his hand
and dropped down next to Gavin. He was worried, too. The crowd closed in on them.
Mariella felt tears hot on her face.

“Is he okay?” asked Papa.

Mariella felt for a pulse and found one. Gavin’s eyes fluttered open. The crowd released
their breath, and Gavin smiled.

“Fat Slob,” he said. Papa and Mariella smiled and the crowd cheered. Papa picked up
Gavin and slapped him on the back.

“Let’s never do that again,” said Papa.

Pauline ran over with the towel and gave it to Gavin to stop the bleeding from his
nose. He was unsteady, so he sat on the bottom of an upside-down dinghy.

The boys were hooting and hollering on the beach, clearly thrilled with their magnificent
father and being able to play in the rain. Mariella saw Ada push through the crowd.
Ada grabbed the towel and passed Gavin her flask.

“Drink,” she commanded.

He took a long gulp and shuddered.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” she said as she pushed the towel roughly onto his
face, covered his nose, and jerked the bone
back into place. The crowd gasped and Gavin nearly passed out, but Mariella and Papa
propped him up. Ada skulked away and Gavin looked at her, whispering, “Fat Slob.”

Papa threw back his head with a roar of laughter. Mariella finally allowed herself
to laugh, too.

“Come on,” said Papa. “Let’s get out of this rain.”

The sound of the rain and its fresh smell drifted in through the open window. Gavin
lay on Mariella’s bed facing the ceiling. His nose throbbed and he felt nauseated.
He hoped the aspirin Papa had brought over after the fight would kick in soon. Mariella
lay with her head touching Gavin’s and held a towel full of ice chips on his nose.
She pulled back the towel and looked at his nose.

“The swelling’s going down already,” she said. “Would you like me to fetch Ada so
you can thank her?”

Gavin looked sideways at Mariella and then back at the ceiling.

“I’d like to knock her out,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but you have a better chance of beating Papa than her.”

Gavin laughed, then grimaced and reached for his nose. Mariella put the ice back on.

“She really did you a favor,” said Mariella.

“I know,” said Gavin. “At least it will heal straight. You’d leave me if I had a crooked
nose to add to my hideous scar.”

Mariella put the ice on the bedside table and leaned over Gavin’s face. She ran her
finger down the scar and softly kissed the area by his lip where it ended. “No, it
makes you look tougher,” she said. “We can’t have you looking prettier than me.”

He reached up and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and put it behind her ear.
His face grew serious.

“I’m so sorry I lost you your money,” he said.

“Stop,” she said. “That turned out exactly as it should have.”

“What?”

“Really,” she said. “First, this trip has been a joke. I’ve barely worked. I’m sorry
I can’t send the money home, but I’ll work overtime once I get back. Second, imagine
if you had beaten Papa. Do you think he would have taken that well?”

“No, but ultimately, what do I care?”

“You should care, because now he likes you and feels a sense of responsibility to
you. He respects you for not backing down. He respects you for almost beating him.
Now he’ll always buy you a drink at the bar and sing your praises in front of others.
If you had beaten him, he’d be mean as a snake.”

“I guess you’re right. But what a shitty way for a person to be.”

“Shitty or not, that’s the way he is.”

Thunder rumbled outside of the window. Mariella turned to watch it, and Gavin wrapped
himself around the back of her. They lay like that, watching the rain, until they
slipped off to sleep.

At dinner that night, the weather had cleared and Papa was in high spirits, so the
crowd was, too. There was laughter, food, drinking, smoking, and more drinking. Everyone
congratulated Jane for winning the money on the fight. Papa bragged about the knockout,
but also admitted that Gavin was a formidable opponent. He followed with stories of
Gavin’s boxing in Key West. The sports talk soon turned to war talk, and Papa sobered
the crowd by predicting that the U.S. would be involved in a second world war sooner
rather than later. Mariella shivered at the thought and listened intently to what
he said about the Germans. When talk of the Spanish Civil War began, Mariella felt
a gentle tug on her arm. It was Jane.

Jane motioned with her head for Mariella to follow her outside. She handed Mariella
a cigarette when they got out there and leaned against the balcony with her. They
stood for a while, not speaking, until Mariella felt uncomfortable. Finally, Jane
spoke.

“I hope we can be friends,” said Jane.

Mariella wasn’t sure how to take the offer, but smiled anyway.

“I know you don’t like me,” said Jane. “But I want you to know I’m not Papa’s lover.”

Mariella thought Jane would say, “now,” but Jane cut herself off at that.

“I would hate for people to think that,” said Jane.

Mariella thought that by “people” Jane meant Pauline. She wanted Mariella to tell
Pauline what she was saying.

“I do love him, but not the way you think,” said Jane. “I suppose I love him the way
that…
you
do.”

Mariella turned away. She was upset that Jane saw her feelings for Papa, whether they
remained or not. She didn’t want to be judged by Jane.

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Mariella. “I’m just the help.”

“No,” said Jane. “No, you are much more than that. You can control him.”

“I don’t think anyone can do that.”

“I don’t mean it in a literal way. I mean that he respects you and cares for you in
a good and healthy way. I would just ask one thing of you.”

“Yes,” said Mariella.

Jane took a long drag of her cigarette and looked out at the water. The noise from
the dinner party inside increased, and the bartenders were singing the “Phony Fat
Slob” song again. Jane smiled to herself.

“You know, we used to be that way, once,” said Jane. “But I let it cross a line.”

Jane turned and faced Mariella.

“Don’t let that happen to you,” said Jane. “Keep him always at arm’s length. And not
just for you or for Pauline, but for him. He needs good, true friends. And he’s going
to need them more as the years go on. I don’t see age treating Papa well.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Mariella.

“His physique, his writing, his strength—they’re how he defines himself—and when they
go away one day, he will have nothing. He alienates too many and relies too much on
himself. I wish I could be his friend, but that chance is lost.”

Jane’s words chilled Mariella, and, truthfully, she couldn’t imagine Papa ever less
than the bronze god on the dock.

“Will you just be his friend, Mariella?” asked Jane.

Mariella heard a tremor in Jane’s voice and was moved by her emotion. She wasn’t sure
whether she completely understood what Jane meant, but she understood the gravity
of her words and the good place they came from.

“I will,” she said.

Jane smiled and wiped away a tear.

“You are a good girl, Mariella.”

Mariella felt a lump in her throat she didn’t understand. She wanted to get back to
Gavin. Jane stepped forward and kissed Mariella on the forehead. Then Jane threw her
cigarette in the sand and walked back to her room. Mariella watched her go, then returned
to the party. She scanned the crowd and saw Gavin and Papa leaned into each other
at the bar, earnestly discussing something—probably war or politics. Pauline and Jinny
laughed and danced to the music with the boys jumping around them. John and Katy slow
danced in the corner.