The 42nd Parallel (48 page)

One raw March evening he took Emiscah to see “The Birth of a Nation.” The battles and the music and the bugles made them all jelly inside. They both had tears in their eyes when the two boys met on the battlefield and died in each other’s arms on the battlefield. When the Ku Klux Klan charged across the screen Charley had his leg against Emiscah’s leg and she dug her fingers into his knee so hard it hurt. When they came out Charley said by heck he thought he wanted to go up to Canada and enlist and go over and see the Great War. Emiscah said not to be silly and then looked at him kinda funny and asked him if he was pro-British. He said he didn’t care and that the only fellows that would gain would be the bankers, whoever won. She said, “Isn’t it terrible? Let’s not talk about it any more.”

When they got back to the Svensons’, Mr. Svenson was sitting in the parlor in his shirtsleeves reading the paper. He got up and went to meet Charley with a worried frown on his face and was just about to say something when Emiscah shook her head. He shrugged his shoulders and went out. Charley asked Emiscah what was eating the old man. She grabbed hold of him and put her head on his shoulder and burst out crying. “What’s the matter, kitten; what’s the matter, kitten?” he kept asking. She just cried and cried until he could feel her tears on his cheek and neck and said, “For crissake, snap out of it, kitten; you’re wilting my collar.”

She let herself drop on the sofa and he could see that she was working hard to pull herself together. He sat down beside her and kept patting her hand. Suddenly she got up and stood in the middle of the floor. He tried to put his arms around her to pet her but she pushed him off. “Charley,” she said in a hard strained voice, “lemme tellye somethin’. . . I think I’m goin’ to have a baby.”

“But you’re crazy. We haven’t ever . . .”

“Maybe it’s somebody else . . . Oh, God, I’m going to kill myself.” Charley took her by the arms and made her sit down on the sofa. “Now pull yourself together, and tell me what the trouble is.”

“I wish you’d beat me up,” Emiscah said, laughing crazily. “Go ahead; hit me with your fist.”

Charley went weak all over.

“Tell me what the trouble is,” he said. “By Jez, it couldn’t be Ed.”

She looked up at him with scared eyes, her face drawn like an old woman’s. “No, no . . . Here’s how it is. I’m a month past my time, see, and I don’t know enough about things like that, so I asks Anna about it and she says I’m goin’ to have a baby sure and that we’ve got to get married right away and she told dad, the dirty little sneak, and I couldn’t tell ’em it wasn’t you . . . They think it’s you, see, and dad says it’s all right, young folks bein’ like that nowadays an’ everythin’ an’ says we’ll have to get married and I thought I wouldn’t let on an’ you’d never know, but, kid, I had to tell you.”

“Oh, Jez,” said Charley. He looked at the flowered pink shade with a fringe over the lamp on the table beside him and the tablecover with a fringe and at his shoes and the roses on the carpet. “Who was it?”

“It was when you were in the hospital, Charley. We had a lot of beer to drink an’ he took me to a hotel. I guess I’m just bad, that’s all. He was throwin’ money around an’ we went in a taxicab and I guess I was crazy. No, I’m a bad woman through and through, Charley. I went out with him every night when you were in the hospital.”

“By God, it was Ed.”

She nodded and then hid her face and started to cry again.

“The lousy little bastard,” Charley kept saying. She crumpled up on the sofa with her face in her hands.

“He’s gone to Chicago . . . He’s a bad egg allright,” said Charley.

He felt he had to get out in the air. He picked up his coat and hat and started to put them on. Then she got to her feet and threw herself against him. She held him close and her arms were tight round his neck. “Honestly, Charley, I loved you all the time . . . I pretended to myself it was you.” She kissed him on the mouth. He pushed her away, but he felt weak and tired and thought of the icy streets walking home and his cold hallbedroom and thought, what the hell did it matter anyway? and took off his hat and coat again. She kissed him and loved him up and locked the parlor door and they loved each other up on the sofa and she let him do everything he wanted. Then after a while she turned on the light and straightened her clothes and went over to the mirror to fix her hair and he tied his necktie again and she smoothed down his hair as best she could with her fingers and they unlocked the parlor door very carefully and she went out in the hall to call dad. Her face was flushed and she looked very pretty again. Mr. Svenson and Anna and all the girls were out in the kitchen and Emiscah said, “Dad, Charley and I are going to get married next month,” and everybody said, “Congratulations,” and all the girls kissed Charley and Mr. Svenson broke out a bottle of whisky and they had a drink all round and Charley went home feeling like a whipped dog.

There was a fellow named Hendriks at the shop seemed a pretty wise guy; Charley asked him next noon whether he didn’t know of anything a girl could take and he said he had a prescription for some pills and next day he brought it and told Charley not to tell the druggist what he wanted them for. It was payday and Hendriks came round to Charley’s room after he’d gotten cleaned up that night and asked him if he’d gotten the pills allright. Charley had the package right in his pocket and was going to cut nightschool that night and take it to Emiscah. First he and Hendriks went to have a drink at the corner. He didn’t like whisky straight and Hendriks said to take it with ginger ale. It tasted great and Charley felt sore and miserable inside and didn’t want to see Emiscah anyway. They had some more drinks and then went and bowled for a while. Charley beat him four out of five and Hendriks said the party was on him from now on.

Hendriks was a squareshouldered redheaded guy with a freckled face and a twisted nose and he began telling stories about funny things that had happened with the ribs and how that was his long suit anyway. He’d been all over and had had high yallers and sealskin browns down New Orleans and Chink girls in Seattle, Wash., and a fullblooded Indian squaw in Butte, Montana, and French girls and German Jewish girls in Colon and a Caribee woman more than ninety years old in Port of Spain. He said that the Twin Cities was the bunk and what a guy ought to do was to go down an’ get a job in the oilfields at Tampico or in Oklahoma where you could make decent money and live like a white man. Charley said he’d pull out of St. Paul in a minute if it wasn’t that he wanted to finish his course in nightschool and Hendriks told him he was a damn fool, that book learnin’ never got nobody nowhere and what he wanted was to have a good time when he had his strength and after that to hell wid ’em. Charley said he felt like saying to hell wid ’em anyway.

They went to several bars, and Charley who wasn’t used to drinking anything much except beer began to reel a little, but it was swell barging round with Hendriks from bar to bar. Hendriks sang
My Mother Was a Lady
in one place and
The Bastard King of England
in another where an old redfaced guy with a cigar set them up to some drinks. Then they tried to get into a dancehall but the guy at the door said they were too drunk and threw them out on their ear and that seemed funny as hell and they went to a back room of a place Hendriks knew and there were two girls there Hendriks knew and Hendriks fixed it up for ten dollars each for all night, then they had one more drink before going to the girls’ place and Hendriks sang:

Two drummers sat at dinner in a grand hotel one day

While dining they were chatting in a jolly sort of way

And when a pretty waitress brought them a tray of food

They spoke to her familiarly in a manner rather rude

“He’s a hot sketch,” said one of the girls to the other. But the other was a little soused and began to get a crying jag when Hendriks and Charley put their heads together and sang:

My mother was a lady like yours you will allow

And you may have a sister who needs protection now

I’ve come to this great city to find a brother dear

And you wouldn’t dare insult me, sir, if Jack were only here.

They cried and the other one kept shoving her and saying, “Dry your eyes, deary, you’re maudlin,” and it was funny as hell.

The next few weeks Charley was uneasy and miserable. The pills made Emiscah feel awful sick but they finally brought her around. Charley didn’t go there much, though they still talked about “When we’re married,” and the Svensons treated Charley as a soninlaw. Emiscah nagged a little about Charley’s drinking and running round with this fellow Hendriks. Charley had dropped out of nightschool and was looking for a chance to get a job that would take him away somewhere, he didn’t much care where. Then one day he busted a lathe and the foreman fired him. When he told Emiscah about it she got sore and said she thought it was about time he gave up boozing and running round and he paid little attention to her and he said it was about time for him to butt out, and picked up his hat and coat and left. Afterwards when he was walking down the street he wished he’d remembered to ask her to give him back his seal ring, but he didn’t go back to ask for it.

That Sunday he went to eat at old man Vogel’s, but he didn’t tell them he’d lost his job. It was a sudden hot spring day. He’d been walking round all morning, with a headache from getting tanked up with Hendriks the night before, looking at the crocuses and hyacinths in the parks and the swelling buds in the dooryards. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He was a week overdue on his rent and he wasn’t getting any schooling and he hadn’t any girl and he felt like saying to hell with everything and joining up in the militia to go down to the Mexican border. His head ached and he was tired of dragging his feet over the pavements in the early heat. Welldressed men and women went by in limousines and sedans. A boy flashed by on a red motorbike. He wished he had the jack to buy a motorbike himself and go on a trip somewhere. Last night he’d tried to argue Hendriks into going South with him, but Hendriks said he’d picked up with a skirt that was a warm baby and he was getting his nookie every night and going to stay right with it. To hell with all that, thought Charley; I want to see some country.

He looked so down in the mouth that Jim said, “What’s the trouble, Charley?” when he walked into the garage. “Aw, nothing,” said Charley, and started to help clean the parts of the carburetor of a Mack truck Jim was tinkering with. The truckdriver was a young feller with closecropped black hair and a tanned face. Charley liked his looks. He said he was going to take a load of storefittings down to Milwaukee next day and was looking for a guy to go with him. “Would you take me?” said Charley. The truckdriver looked puzzled. “He’s my kid brother, Fred; he’ll be allright . . . But what about your job?”

Charley colored up. “Aw, I resigned.” “Well, come round with me to see the boss,” said the truckdriver. “And if it’s allright by him it’s allright by me.”

They left next morning before day. Charley felt bad about sneaking out on his landlady, but he left a note on the table saying he’d send her what he owed her as soon as he got a job. It was fine leaving the city and the mills and grainelevators behind in the gray chilly early morning light. The road followed the river and the bluffs and the truck roared along sloshing through puddles and muddy ruts. It was chilly although the sun was warm when it wasn’t behind the clouds. He and Fred had to yell at each other to make their voices heard but they told stories and chewed the fat about one thing and another. They spent the night in LaCrosse.

They just got into the hashjoint in time to order hamburger steaks before it closed, and Charley felt he was making a hit with the waitress who was from Omaha and whose name was Helen. She was about thirty and had a tired look under the eyes that made him think maybe she was kind of easy. He hung round until she closed up and took her out walking and they walked along the river and the wind was warm and smelt winey of sawmills and there was a little moon behind fleecy clouds and they sat down in the new grass where it was dark behind stacks of freshcut lumber laid out to season. She let her head drop on his shoulder and called him “baby boy.”

Fred was asleep in the truck rolled up in a blanket on top of the sacking when he got back. Charley curled up in his overcoat on the other side of the truck. It was cold and the packingcases were uncomfortable to lie on but he was tired and his face felt windburned, and he soon fell asleep.

They were off before day.

The first thing Fred said was, “Well, did you make her, kid?” Charley laughed and nodded. He felt good and thought to himself he was damn lucky to get away from the Twin Cities and Emiscah and that sonofabitchin’ foreman. The whole world was laid out in front of him like a map, and the Mack truck roaring down the middle of it and towns were waiting for him everywhere where he could pick up jobs and make good money and find goodlooking girls waiting to call him their baby boy.

He didn’t stay long in Milwaukee. They didn’t need any help in any of the garages so he got a job pearldiving in a lunchroom. It was a miserable greasy job with long hours. To save money he didn’t get a room but flopped in a truck in a garage where a friend of Jim’s was working. He was planning to go over on the boat as soon as he got his first week’s pay. One of the stiffs working in the lunchroom was a wobbly named Monte Davis. He got everybody to walk out on account of a freespeech fight the wobblies were running in town, so Charley worked a whole week and had not a cent to show for it and hadn’t eaten for a day and a half when Fred came back with another load on his Mack truck and set him up to a feed. They drank some beer afterwards and had a big argument about strikes. Fred said all this wobbly agitation was damn foolishness and he thought the cops would be doing right if they jailed every last one of them. Charley said that working stiffs ought to stick together for decent living conditions and the time was coming when there’d be a big revolution like the American revolution only bigger and after that there wouldn’t be any bosses and the workers would run industry. Fred said he talked like a damn foreigner and ought to be ashamed of himself and that a white man ought to believe in individual liberty and if he got a raw deal on one job he was goddam well able to find another. They parted sore, but Fred was a goodhearted guy and lent Charley five bucks to go over to Chi with.