Rich Man, Poor Man (18 page)

‘He said it was my idea?’ Thomas asked.

‘A boy like Claude,’ the priest said, ‘growing up in a Christian home, going to Mass every Sunday, would never dream up a desperate scheme like that on his own.’

‘Okay,’ Thomas said. He sure as hell was going to be out looking for Claude.

‘Luckily,’ the priest went on, in measured Gregorian tones, ‘when Claude visited his uncle, Dr Robert Tinker, that awful night, with his cruelly wounded arm, Dr Tinker was alone; He treated the boy and extracted the story from him and took him

home in has own car. By the grace of God, he was not observed. But the burns are severe and Claude will be in bandages for at least three more weeks. It was not possible to keep him hidden at home safely until he was fully recovered. A maid might become suspicious, a delivery boy might get a glimpse of him, a school friend might pay a visit out of pity … ‘

‘Oh, Christ, Anthony,’ Mr Tinker said. ‘Get out of the pulpit!’ His face pale and working convulsively, his eyes bloodshot, he strode over to Thomas. ‘We drove the little bastard down to New York last night and we put him on a plane to California this morning. He’s got an aunt in San Francisco and he’ll be stashed away until he can get the bandages off and then he’s going to military school and I don’t care if he doesn’t come back to this town before he’s ninety. And if he knows what’s good for him your father’d damn well better get you out of town, too. As far away as possible, where nobody knows you and nobody’ll ask any questions.’

‘Don’t worry, Tinker,’ Jordache said. ‘He’ll be out of town by nightfall.’

‘He’d better be,’ Tinker said threateningly.

‘All right now.’ Jordache opened the door. ‘I’ve had enough of the both of you. Get out.’

‘I think we ought to go now, John,’ the priest said. ‘I’m certain Mr Jordache will do the proper thing.’

Tinker had to get in the last word. ‘You’re being let off easy,’ he said. ‘All of you.’ He marched out of the store.

‘God forgive you, my son,’ the priest said, and followed his brother.

Jordache locked the door and faced Thomas. ‘You’ve hung a sword over your head, you little shit,’ he said. ‘You’ve got something coming to you.’ He limped towards Thomas and swung his fist. It landed high on Thomas’s head. Thomas staggered and then, instinctively, hit back, going off the floor and catching his father flush on the temple with the hardest right hand he had ever thrown. Jordache didn’t Jail, but swayed a little, his hands out in front of him. He stared dis-believingly at his son, at the blue eyes icy with hatred. Then he saw Thomas smile and drop his hands to his side.

‘Go ahead and get it over with,’ Thomas said contemptuously. ‘Sonny boy won’t hit his brave daddy any more.’

Jordache swung once more. The left side of Thomas’s face began to swell immediately and became an angry wine red, but he merely stood there, smiling.

Jordache dropped his hands. The one blow had been a symbol, nothing more. Meaningless, he thought dazedly. Sons.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That’s over. Your brother’s going to take you on the bus to Grafton. From there you’ll take the first train to Albany. In Albany you’ll change for Ohio. Alone. My brother’ll have to take care of you. I’ll call him today and he’ll be expecting you. Don’t bother packing. I don’t want anybody to see you leaving town with a valise.’ He unlocked the bakery door. Thomas went out, blinking in the Sunday afternoon sunlight.

‘You wait here,’ Jordache said. ‘I’ll send your brother down. I don’t fancy any farewell scenes with your mother.’ He locked the bakery door and limped into the house.

Only after his father was gone did Thomas touch the tender, swollen side of his jaw.

Ten minutes later, Jordache and Rudolph came down. Thomas was leaning against the bakery window, staring calmly across the street. Rudolph was carrying the jacket of Thomas’s one suit, striped and greenish. It had been bought two years before and was too small for him. He couldn’t move his shoulders freely when he put it on and his hands dangled far out of the tight sleeves.

Rudolph looked dazed and his eyes widened when he saw the welt on Thomas’s cheek. Jordache had the appearance of a sick man. Under the naturally dark tint of his skin, there was a wash of pallid green and his eyes were puffy. One punch, Thomas thought, and look what happens to him.

‘Rudolph knows what he has to do,’ Jordache said. ‘I gave him some money. He’ll buy you your ticket to Cleveland. Here’s your uncle’s address.’ He handed Thomas a slip of paper.

I’m moving up in class. Thomas thought, I have uncles for emergencies, too. Call me Tinker.

‘Now get moving,’ Jordache said. ‘And keep your trap shut.’

The boys started down the street. Jordache watched, feeling the vein throb in his temple where Thomas had hit him and not seeing anything very clearly. His sons moved off in a blur down the sunny empty slum street, the one tallish and slender and well dressed in the grey-flannel slacks and a blue blazer, the other almost as tall but wider and looking childish in the

jacket that was too small for him. When the boys had disappeared around a corner, Jordache turned and walked in the opposite direction, towards the river. This was one afternoon he had to be alone. He would call his brother later. His brother and his wife were just slobs enough to take in the son of a man who had kicked them out of his house and hadn’t even said thank you for the yearly Christmas card that was the only evidence that two men who had been born long ago in the same house in Cologne and who were living in different parts of America were, in fact, brothers. He could just hear his brother saying to his fat wife, in that ineradicable German accent, ‘After all, vat can ve do? Blut is thicker than vater.’

‘What in hell happened?’ Rudolph asked as soon as they were out of their father’s sight.

‘Nothing,’ Thomas said.

‘He hit you,’ Rudolph said. ‘Your jaw’s a sight.’

‘It was a terrible blow,” Thomas said mockingly. ‘He’s next in line for a shot at the title.’

‘He came upstairs looking sick,’ Rudolph said.

‘I clipped him one.’ Thomas grinned, remembering.

‘You hit him?*

‘Why not?’ Thomas said. ‘What’s a father for?’

‘Christ! And you’re still alive?’

‘I’m alive,’ said Thomas.

‘No wonder he’s getting rid of you.’ Rudolph shook his head. He couldn’t help being angry with Thomas. Because of Thomas he was missing his date with Julie. He would have liked to pass her house, it was only a few blocks out of the way to the bus station, but his father had said he wanted Thomas out of town immediately and with nobody knowing about it. ‘What the hell is the matter with you, anyway?’

‘I’m a high-spirited, red-blooded, normal American boy,’ Thomas said.

‘It must be real trouble,’ Rudolph said. ‘He gave me fifty bucks for the train fare. Any time he shells out fifty bucks, it must be something enormous.’

‘I was discovered spying for the Japs.’ Thomas said placidly.

‘Oh, boy, you’re smart,’ Rudolph said, and they walked the rest of the way to the bus station in silence.

They got off the bus at Grafton near the railroad station and Thomas sat under a tree in a little park across the square from the station while Rudolph went in to see about Thomas’s ticket. The next train to Albany was in fifteen minutes and Rudolph bought the ticket from the wizened man with a green

eyeshade behind the wicket. He didn’t buy the ticket for the connection to Cleveland. His father had told him he didn’t want anybody to know Thomas’s final destination, so Thomas was going to have to buy the ticket himself at the station in Albany.

As he took the change, Rudolph had an impulse to buy another ticket for himself. In the opposite direction. To New York. Why should Thomas be the first one to escape? But of course, he didn’t buy any ticket to New York. He went out of the station and past the dozing drivers waiting in their 1939 taxis for the arrival of the next train. Thomas was sitting on a bench under a tree, his legs sprawled out in a V, his heels dug into the scrubby lawn. He looked unhurried and peaceful, as though nothing was happening to him.

Rudolph glanced around to make sure nobody was watching them. ‘Here’s your ticket,’ he said, handing it to Thomas, who looked at it lazily. ‘Put it away, put it away,’ Rudolph said. ‘And here’s the change for the fifty dollars. Forty-two fifty. For your ticket from Albany. You’ll have a lot left over, the way I figure it.’

Thomas pocketed the money without counting it. The old man must have shit blood,’ Thomas said, ‘when he took it out from wherever he hides his dough. Did you see where he keeps it?’

‘No.’

Too bad. I could come back some dark night and lift it Although I don’t suppose you’d tell me, even if you knew. Not my brother Rudolph.’

They watched a roadster drive up with a girl at the wheel and a lieutenant in the Air Force beside her. They got out of the car and went into the shade of the tiled overhang of the depot. Then they stopped and kissed. The girl was wearing a pale-blue dress and the summery wind twirled it around her legs. The lieutenant was tall and very tanned as though he had been in the desert. He had medals and wings on his green Eisenhower jacket and he was carrying a stuffed flight bag. Rudolph heard the roar of a thousand engines in foreign skies as he watched the couple. Again, he felt the pang because he had been born too late and missed the war.

‘Kiss me, darling,’ Thomas said, ‘I bombed Tokyo.’

‘What the hell are you proving?’ Rudolph said.

‘You ever get laid?’ Thomas asked.

The echo of his father’s question the day Jordache hit Miss Lenaut disturbed Rudolph. ‘What’s it to you?’

Thomas shrugged, watching the two people go through the open door of the station. ‘Nothing. I just thought I’m going to be away a long time, maybe we ought to have a heart-to-heart talk.’

‘Well, if you must know, I haven’t,’ Rudolph said stiffly.

‘I was sure of it,’ Thomas said. There’s a place called Alice’s’ in town on McKinley, you can get a good piece of tail for five bucks. Tell them your brother sent you.’

‘I’ll take care of myself my own way,’ Rudolph said. Although he was a year older than Thomas, Thomas was making him feel like a kid.

‘Our loving sister is getting hers regularly,’ Thomas said. ‘Did you know that?’

That’s her business.’ But Rudolph was shocked. Gretchen was so clean and neat and politely spoken. He couldn’t imagine her in the sweaty tangle of sex.

‘Do you want to know who with?’

‘No.’

Theodore Boylan,’ Thomas said. ‘How do you like that for class?’

‘How do you know?’ Rudolph was sure that Thomas was lying.

‘I went up and watched through the window,’ Thomas said. ‘He came down into the livingroom bare-assed, with his thing hanging down to his knees, he’s a regular horse, and made two whiskies and called up the stairs, “Gretchen, do you want your drink up there or do you want to come down for it?”’ Thomas simpered as he imitated Boylan.

‘Did she come down?’ Rudolph didn’t want to hear the rest of the story.

‘No. I guess she was having too good a time where she was.’

‘So you didn’t see whoever it was.’ Rudolph fell back on logic to preserve his sister. ‘It might have been anybody up there.’

‘How many Gretchens you know in Port Philip?’ Thomas said. ‘Anyway, Claude Tinker saw them drive up the hill together in Boylan’s car. She meets him in front of Bernstein’s when she’s supposed to be at the hospital. Maybe Boylan got wounded in a war, too. The Spanish-American War.’

‘Jesus,’ Rudolph said. ‘With an ugly man like Boylan.’ If it had been with someone like the young lieutenant who had just gone into the station, she would still have remained his sister.

‘She must be getting something out of it,’ Thomas said

carelessly. ‘Ask her.’

‘You ever tell her you knew?’

‘Nah. Let her screw in peace. It’s not my cock. I just went up there for laughs,’ Thomas said. ‘She don’t mean anything to me. La-di-da, la-di-da, where do babies come from, Mummy?’

Rudolph wondered how his brother could have perfected his hatred so young.

‘If we were Italians or something,’ Thomas said, ‘or Southern gentlemen, we’d go up that hill and avenge the honour of the family. Cut off his balls or shoot him or something. I’m busy this year, but if you want to do it, I give you permission.’

‘Maybe you’ll be surprised,’ Rudolph said. ‘Maybe. I will do something.’

‘I bet,’ Thomas said. ‘Anyway, just for your information, I’ve already done something.’

‘What?’

Thomas looked consideringly at Rudolph. ‘Ask your father,’ he said, ‘he knows.’ He stood up. Well, I better be getting along. The train’s due.’

They went out on to the platform. The lieutenant and the girl were kissing again. He might never come back, this might be the last kiss, Rudolph thought; after all, they were still fighting out in the Pacific, there were still the Japanese. The girl was weeping as she kissed the lieutenant and he was patting her back with one hand to comfort her. Rudolph wondered if there would ever be a girl who would cry on a station platform because he had to leave her.

The train came in with a whoosh of country dust. Thomas swung up on to the steps.

‘Look,’ Rudolph said, ‘if there’s anything you want from the house, write me. I’ll get it to you somehow.’

There’s nothing I want from that house,’ Thomas said. His rebellion was pure and complete. The undeveloped, childish face seemed merry, as if he were going to a circus.

‘Well,’ Rudolph said lamely. ‘Good luck.’ After all, he was his brother and God knew when they would ever see each other again.

‘Congratulations,’ Thomas said. ‘Now you got the whole bed to yourself. You don’t have to worry about my smelling like a wild animal. Don’t forget to wear your pyjamas.’

Giving nothing, right up to the last moment, he went into the vestibule and into the car without looking back. The train started and Rudolph could see the lieutenant standing at an open window waving to the girl, who was running along the platform.

The train gathered speed and the girl stopped running. She became conscious of Rudolph looking at her and, her face closed down, erasing public sorrow, public love. She wheeled and hurried off, the wind whipping her dress about her body. Warrior’s woman.