Studs Lonigan (118 page)

“Maybe there's a lot to what you say.”

“No maybe about it. What does Father Moylan say? He tells what the bankers are doing. Loaning American money to Europe. If they had kept American money in America where it belongs, there wouldn't be any depression.”

“Say, there's something in that.”

“Then Hoover comes along and what does he do? This moratorium business. Telling Europe, no, they don't have to pay us. If Europe paid us and we kept undesirable aliens out of our country, so that there could be jobs and money for Americans, we wouldn't be having these hard times,” Lonigan proclaimed with growing indignation, and Studs nodded agreement. “America was a fine country. And all these foreigners came here to take jobs away from Americans who have a right to them. And now we got too many men for the jobs we got. Well, I know what we ought to do. Put all the foreigners we got taking jobs away from Americans, pack them in boats, and say to them, ‘Now, see here, America belongs to Americans. You go back where you belong.' And if we did that, we wouldn't have these Reds here agitating to overthrow the government. Say, you know what those dirty Reds are doing now? They're exciting the niggers down in the Black Belt, telling them they're as good as white men and they can have white women. I tell you, Bill, some day the American people have got to wake up and take things into their own hands.”

“It's only right. America is America, and it should be for Americans,” Studs said.

“You're damn right it should be. And you know who's going to wake Americans up? It's men like Father Moylan who speaks on the radio every Sunday. He tells 'em, and he talks straight. Men like him have got to wake the country up.”

“And he's a Catholic, too,” Studs said proudly.

“He's one of the finest and smartest men in America, and he tells the people what's what. He lays into the bankers, too, and by God, they've got it coming to them.”

“I got to listen to him more often.”

“Yes, Bill, you should. He's a brainy man and you learn what's going on from him,” Lonigan said, and he chuckled. “Say, the way he gives hell to Hoover, it's a treat.”

“If it wasn't for bigots, Al Smith would have been elected,” Studs said regretfully, “I know. They played Al dirt,” yawning and arising. “I guess I better be getting cleaned up and shaved.”

Lonigan picked up his newspaper and resumed reading.

Catherine kissed him lackadaisically. There were no sounds around them, only the pleasing darkness, and they sat locked in each other's arms, their breathing tired, their clothing mussed and askew. Catherine looked away from him. He glanced upward at the overhanging tent of tall and leafy trees, idly watching stray rays of sudden moonlight that silvered the top layers of leaves. Away off somewhere, like a strange sound, he heard the noise of an automobile.

Freeing himself from her arms, he sat erect, and thought, Jesus, if somebody should come by now. Embarrassed and ashamed, he stood up with his back to her, buttoned himself, pressed down his hair, fingered his tie. Shyly, she turned, pulled down and smoothed her wrinkled dress, hooked up her stockings, pushed back her disarranged hair.

He slouched down beside her on the bench and looked at the black wall of bushes opposite, a narrow and uneven stream of moonlight unexpectedly flowing through them while a slight wind scratched the leaves. He shifted his glance, and partially closed his eyes to get a different sight of the bushes. He made an effort of lighting a cigarette.

Catherine sniffled.

“Bill,” she sobbed.

Studs turned toward her, frightened, and took her hand.

“Bill, dear, I can't stand this. I can't go on sneaking the way we got to, as if this was something awful between us, afraid of being caught or seen by somebody, having to be ashamed of doing this when we love each other, and have to be sneaking about it in the park and in my hallway. And even that awful time in the taxicab. I can't stand even the idea of it, and if we were caught by someone, some stranger, I'm afraid I'd even kill myself.”

“Kid . . .” he said, looking down at her while she sobbed with her head against his shoulder. He had no other words to utter. Puzzled, he shook his head slowly from side to side.

“Bill, we got to get married!”

“When?”

“Right away.”

“But won't it seem a little queer to everybody? And it will take a little time for us to get ready, won't it? We'll have to have the banns published and fix things up.”

“Tomorrow morning we can go to mass together, and right after mass we'll go to see Father Geoghan, and make arrangements then.”

“Well . . . but . . .”

“Bill, darling, I can't stand this sneaking and skulking. And it's not right. It's a sin this way, and it can't be really wrong and sinful, because I love you. I love you so much!”

He was embarrassed and gratified by the way she flung her arms around him and kissed him, and still, he didn't know what to say.

“Kid,” he said hoarsely.

“You love me?”

“Yes,” he said, the reply coming as if it had been propelled out of his mouth by force.

“You mean it?”

He looked at her, nodded, leaned over, kissed her, held and patted her hand. He looked moodily away.

“Because I've been afraid to tell you, and now I've got to,” she said.

He turned back to her, his face pallid in the darkness and moonlight, its expression trapped in worry and surprise. He glanced away again, then back at her, just as her round face was cross-cut by an exposure of moonlight.

“Something has happened to me,” she said, looking aside.

“What?” he snapped out quickly in a choking voice, while at the same time, as if in a split part of himself, he was beginning to see his predicament as a drama filled with seriousness and importance.

“You know, Bill,” she said, seeming to him like a soft, frightened, utterly helpless thing in his arms, “you know, I'm afraid that I'm going to have a baby.”

Her head lowered, as in shame and modesty. She took and held the fingers in his right hand.

Jesus Christ! he thought to himself, even though he had guessed what she had to say from the way she'd led up to it.

“Can't we do something about it?” he asked.

“What?”

“See a doctor. Or maybe I can get some medicine to take care of it.”

Looking up at him, she dabbed her eyes quickly, and he could see that she was fighting not to cry.

“Bill, darling, that's awful. We can't do that.”

“But why?” he asked, his voice shaky, puzzled.

He tried to substitute a persuasive glance for the convincing words which he could not bring forth. He drew her gently against his shoulder, feeling the quivering of her warm and nervous body. Her fear made him feel strong and brave, and he began to feel a sense of power as if it were a pulse within him. He was the strong one, the one to be depended upon in a time of trouble, and it was up to him to be the captain steering a course out of it.

“Bill, it would be awful to do such a thing. I know! If you say that, you make me feel that you don't really care for me. You know you got what you wanted, everything I had to give you, and now you seem to be acting as if you only wanted to get out of trouble the easiest way.”

“Kid, please,” he said, still at a loss for words, wishing he could carry things off and lie better.

And he was just so goddamn mixed up and jumbled himself. He didn't want such a thing to happen. She'd be disgraced and ruined, and everybody would know that they had had to get married. And Christ, right off the reel they would have the kid. What would he do about a kid of his own? Studs Lonigan, a father already! He didn't want to do that, and he didn't know what to do about it. And how could they afford it? There he would be in the future with cords about him, hand and foot.

Join the Navy now, brother, he told himself sardonically.

He remembered how he used to hear fellows around the poolroom kidding about it, and how he'd razzed fellows like Wils Gillen when they were worried about girls they'd knocked up. Goddamn it, it wasn't anything to laugh over, Jesus Christ, it wasn't.

And there she was beside him, sniffling, and he had to say or do something about it. He heard a distant automobile, and it made him think of how, right now, there were people driving around, free from having all the troubles and worries he had. He just felt helpless, hopeless, with a sword swinging right above his neck.

“Bill, tell me, do you love me?” she asked with a ring of insistence and desperation in her voice, and he grew rigid from the sudden thought that maybe in this mood she might just go and jump in the lake or do something as bad.

“You know it, Kid,” he said, still choked up.

“Well, you take a poor way of showing it. You don't even hold me tight and kiss me when I tell you these things.”

He kissed her, aware of warm tears trickling down her cheeks, and they gripped each other in a mood of desperation. Released, they sat side by side, surrounded by trees, alone in a quiet where they could clearly hear each other's breathing.

“Bill, we got to do something. I'm afraid to go to a doctor or take medicine,” Catherine said after a period of silence.

“It won't hurt you.”

“But I can't, I can't do such a thing.”

“Well, it'll mean plenty of trouble for us.”

“But if you love me.”

“Yes, but, Kid, can't you see, right off the bat you'll be tied down with a baby?”

“I don't care for myself. But maybe it's you. You're afraid and you don't want to be tied down.”

He knew that she craved some positive word from him, and all he could do was pat her hand gently and hope that his gesture would give her confidence and substitute for all the words he could not speak.

“Both of us have money saved up,” she said.

“I never told you, you know,” he said awkwardly.

“What?” she said with fresh anxiety.

“Well, after we became engaged, I felt that we ought to be able to start out with more money than it looked like we were gonna have. So I bought some shares in a new issue of Imbray Stock. I paid twenty-five a shot for it, and it's down to six dollars a share now, so my two thousand dollars is now worth, let's see . . . oh, about two hundred and forty dollars. It's hardly worth selling it, so the money's all tied up until we get better times and the stock market goes up.”

Christ, now he was only beginning to fully realize what a chump he'd been. Oh, how sweet it would be to take Ike Dugan out and pound him full of lumps!

“But Bill!” she exclaimed, stunned with surprise.

“I thought it would turn out all right,” he said dejectedly.

“But Bill, how could you do that and never say a word to me?” she said, breaking freely into tears.

He halted his impulse to say that it was his money, wasn't it, and he felt as helpless as she, sobbing beside him.

“And now we have no money,” she said forlornly.

“I thought that things would get better and it would be a good investment. I took a chance,” he said, shrugging his shoulders in an ineffectual gesture.

“But Bill, how could you?” she asked, and he saw that she was more frightened than angry.

“There's still a chance. Imbray, you know, is a smart man. And the stock is based on things that everybody needs, and they should be good investments in the long run. A man like Imbray can't fail when he's got stock backed by almost all the public utilities of the Middle West. I still think that I'm going to get more money out of my investments than I put into them.”

“That doesn't matter, Bill darling. We're going to get along, all right. I know it. I can just feel it.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” he asked nervously.

“Honey, you and me, we've just got to get married. And I'm not afraid of having a baby of yours, and I don't care what people say.”

“Well, you know we'll be tied down.”

“I don't care,” she said, snapping her head, a note of defiance coming into her voice.

“It's going to be tough sledding. You know, I'm not working a lot with my dad, because there's nothing much doing.”

“I don't care! I don't care! I don't care!” she said rapidly, clasping his hand tightly, digging her nails into his palm.

She slumped against him, sobbed, and in persisting confusion and helplessness he put his arm around her shoulders.

“Brace up, Kid!” he said, lacking conviction and looking vacantly at the bushes.

She ceased crying, and he seemed to drift into vague dreaming, forgetting everything, not wanting to move, liking the feel and pressure of her against him. Suddenly she sat up, and to him her action was like being curtly awakened from sleep.

“The dew is falling, and I don't like you sitting in the dampness. You might catch cold, and summer colds are worse than winter ones.”

“I'm all right.”

In the dark, she tried to arrange her hair. They walked slowly, Studs hearing the crunch of their shoes on the gravel. He remembered how he had so often seen fellows and girls walking in Washington Park on nights like this, just as they two were now. He didn't envy such guys now like he used to. Walking just as he and Catherine were doing, as if they were happy with each other, and had no worries in the world, nothing to fear, happy in love with each other, as if there was nothing else that counted. A sardonic smile came on his face, and over and over again the line from a popular song hummed through his mind.