The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (40 page)

“W,” he said, plucking one finger, “H,” he said plucking another. “Y Cue-wesh-tion mark.”

“I’ll help you undress,” she said.

“You can look,” Duddy said in a falsetto voice, “but don’t touch.” And in a moment he was snoring.

He was surly at breakfast and Virgil, embarrassed, did not say much either.

“What are your plans for today?” Yvette asked.

“I’m just going to hang around my house for a bit,” he said, “if you and Virgil don’t mind.”

“We’re going out for a walk,” Yvette said quickly.

After they’d gone Duddy began to chain-smoke. It’s their fault, he thought, they wouldn’t help me, they’re forcing me into it. Pushing me, he thought, and he went into Virgil’s room. The checkbook wasn’t even hidden. Jeez, he thought. It was on top of the dresser with the passbook. Duddy took a quick look at Virgil’s bank balance, whistled, noted his account number and ripped out two checks. He forged the signature by holding the check and a letter Virgil had signed up to the window and tracing slowly. This is a breeze, he thought. But the signed check frightened him. He concealed it in his back pocket. I’ll wait an hour, he thought, well, three quarters anyway, and if they show up before then I’ll tear up the check. If not – Well, they shouldn’t leave me alone for that long. Not in my desperate condition.

Duddy waited an hour and a half before he attempted to make the phone call. Even then he hung up three times (See, he thought) before he lit another cigarette off his butt and actually put the call through. Disguising his voice, he told the bank manager, “This is Mr. Roseboro speaking.” He gave the address. “I’m sending Mr. Kravitz down to have a check certified for me, please.”

Duddy hung up and waited. Just as he expected, the bank manager called back to check. “Yes,” Duddy said, “Mr. Kravitz just left. Thanks a lot, sir.”

Duddy’s heart began to bang as soon as he entered the bank, but nobody questioned the signature on the check, and so he rushed down to his own bank with it and deposited it there. Zowie, he thought. Rushing into the house, he announced, “I’ve got the money.”

“Really,” Yvette said.

“Duddy can do anything,” Virgil said.

“You said a mouthful, kid.”

But when the phone rang Duddy started. “I’ll take it,” he said swiftly. It wasn’t the bank. “All right,” Duddy said, “we’re all going out to dinner. Uncle Duddy pays.”

He got them out of the house as quickly as he could. Each time Yvette asked him where he had got the money Duddy winked and said, “I found it under my pillow.”

“He can do anything he puts his mind to,” Virgil said. “Duddy’s going to be a tycoon.”

Early the next morning Yvette left for Ste. Agathe to see the notary. Duddy met her at the station when she returned the same evening. He took her to a bar nearby. “Everything go O.K.?” he asked.

“The land’s all yours now,” she said.

“At last,” he said. “Jeez.”

“Are you happy?”

“Boy, would I ever like to see Dingleman’s face now. The Boy Wonder? They’ll soon be calling him the One-Day Wonder. You wait.” Duddy had some papers with him. He tried to produce them casually. “Oh, you’d better sign these,” he said.

Yvette looked puzzled.

“It’s about the land. You sign over all the deeds to my father. Just a formality, you know.”

She hesitated.

“What’sa matter? Your feelings hurt?”

“Give me a pen,” she said sharply.

“Listen, it’s just a legal formality. My lawyer insisted. In case you were in an accident like. Aw, you know.”

“What if your father’s in an accident?”

“Will you just sign, please?” Yvette signed.

“Well,” Duddy said. “Cheers.”

But she didn’t lift her glass.

“Listen, if my father’s in an accident the land automatically goes to me. But if you were –”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Oh, boy. This is going to be a night. A real night.”

“I’d like you to take me home, please.”

All the lights were on downstairs.

“Virgil,” Yvette called.

There was no answer.

“Maybe he went out dancing,” Duddy said.

Yvette walked ahead into the living room. “Oh,” she said, holding a hand to her cheek. “Oh, no.”

Virgil lay twisted on the floor beside his overturned wheelchair. His face was thin and white and drying blood dribbled down his chin.

“He’s had a fit. Duddy. Oh, Duddy.”

Above him the telephone receiver dangled loosely.

“Get me some hot water, Duddy. Quick!”

But Duddy had gone. Yvette reached the window just in time to see him pass outside.

Duddy ran, he ran, he ran.

T
HEY TOOK THE TAXI TO GO OUT TO SEE THE LAND
, Duddy drove, his grandfather sat in front with him, and Max and Lennie sat in the back. “Like customers,” Max said.

“Will we tip him, Daddy?”

“Into the lake. That’s where we’ll tip him.”

“Wait till you see that lake,
Zeyda
. Even where the water is twenty feet deep it’s so clean and clear that you can see the bottom.”

“What about mermaids?” Max said. “Have you got any of those?”

“You’ve got to see the sun set. You’ve just got to see the sun set over my land.”

“Did you buy the sun too?” Lennie asked.

“And
Zeyda,
” Duddy said, “you just take your time and look around and pick a farm, any farm, and that’s where I’ll put up your private house.”

But Simcha seemed preoccupied. He merely nodded.

“Wait till you see the trees I’ve got there.”

“You’re beginning to sound like a real dumb farmer,” Max said. “What’s so special about trees?”

“Aw, you’ll love it, Daddy. It’s so restful by the lake.”

“Oh, sure. I know all about the country. Ants and mosquitos and skunks and – if you’ve got the appetite – bull-pies all over. You can have it, buster.”

“I’ll tell you something,” Lennie said, “I wouldn’t want a lake here if they gave it to me on a silver platter. Why develop things for them? Now Israel, that’s something else. There –”

“All right, Ben-Gurion. Keep the commercials to yourself.”

“Oh, it’s easy to laugh,” Lennie said. “I’ll bet in Germany in 1930 they laughed too.”

“Lennie’s got a point,” Max said.

Jeez.

“I’m only joking. He said that in Germany in 1930 they laughed too. I said he’s got a point.
A point
. Get it? Lennie’s got a point.”

Duddy groaned.

“Nobody in this family’s got a sense of humor.”

“You’ve got enough for all of us,” Duddy said.

“Life should be approached with a smile. If you can’t get laughs out-”

“That’s enough,” Simcha said.

“We’re almost there.” Duddy turned off on a dirt road. “A couple of more miles and then we start walking.”

“Alaska, here we come,” Max said.

They got out of the car and began to walk.

“Over there. Over the next hill. It’s all mine. Everything.”

Duddy was always ahead of them, running, walking backwards, jumping, hurrying them, leaping to reach for a tree branch.

“That field,” he said, “it’s mine,” and he watched to see their expressions. Simcha, he noticed, remained grim.

“All you can see to the right, Lennie. Everything to the left. All mine.”

Lennie smiled encouragingly. But Max seemed let down. “Just a bunch of crappy, godforsaken fields. What do you want them for?”

“Now close your eyes,” Duddy said. “Close them until you reach the top of the hill … Keep them closed,” he said, taking Simcha’s hand. “Don’t cheat … O.K. Look!”

Autumn leaves floated on the still surface of the lake.

“Injun territory,” Max said.

“Christ almighty!”

“A wilderness,” Max said.

“Sure,” Duddy said, jumping up and down, “a goddam wilderness, and remember it, goddam it, take a good look, goddam everything to hell and heaven and kingdom come, because a whole town is going up here. A camp and a hotel and cottages and stores and a synagogue – yes,
Zeyda
, a real
shul –
and a movie and … well everything you can think of.”

“Dream,” Max sang, “when you’re feeling blue. Dream, let the smoke rings rise in the air – Hey, look over there!”

Mounting slowly and cumbersome, puffing and pausing to wipe his forehead, came a man on crutches, with a young girl.

“It’s the Boy Wonder,” Max said. “Hey, here. Over here, Jerry.”

Duddy lit a cigarette and waited. “Well,” he said as Dingleman approached, “aren’t you in jail yet?”

“Jesus,” Max said, smacking the side of his face.

“Hello, Linda,” Duddy said.

Max pulled Lennie over. “This is my boy Lennie,” he told Dingleman. “He’s going to be a doctor. A specialist.”

“That’s grand,” Dingleman said. “Hullo, Duddy.” He extended his hand, but Duddy didn’t take it. “I came to congratulate you,” he said.

“Shake with him,” Max said.

Duddy shook hands with him.

“There. Isn’t that how sports should behave? Jerry’s a good loser,” Max said.

“This is a fine property your son’s got here, Max.”

“Well, you know. He’s a shrewd cookie. A chip off the old block.”

“Yeah,” Duddy said, “and I’ll tell you something funny about this land, Dingleman. No trespassing.”

“It’s a joke,” Max said quickly. “Duddy’s a kidder. Natural born.”

“The sign goes up tomorrow. It reads, ‘Trespassers will be prosecuted.’ ”

“Ah ha ha,” Max said, poking Duddy.

“You’re a big boy now,” Linda said, “aren’t you?”

“I’m not a waiter any more, if that’s what you mean?”

“It’s going to cost you a fortune to develop this land,” Jerry said.

“So?”

“Who’s the old man?” Jerry asked suddenly.

“He’s not an old man, he’s my grandfather. This is my property, sonny. Watch how you talk.”

“You’re going to need lots of money, Duddy. A fortune.”

“A million,” Duddy began, “maybe more. Because there’s going to be a children’s camp and a hotel and – What’s the matter,
Zeyda
, where are you going?”

“Back to the car.”

“Have you picked your farm yet?”

“I don’t feel well. I’m going to sit in the car.”

“But you haven’t chosen your farm yet.
Zeyda
, wait.”

Dingleman stopped Duddy. “Let him go,” he said.

Duddy watched the old man retire slowly down the slope. “All his life he told me a man should have land. He said he wanted a farm. I don’t …”

Dingleman laughed. “Maybe he never expected you to get him one?”

“Wha’?”

“Have you ever read any Yiddish poetry?”

“Zeyda
, come back.
Zeyda!”

But the old man continued towards the car.

“Certainly not,” Dingleman continued. “But if you had you’d know about those old men. Sitting in their dark cramped ghetto corners, they wrote the most mawkish, schoolgirlish stuff about green fields and sky. Terrible poetry, but touching when you consider the circumstances under which it was written. Your grandfather doesn’t want any land. He wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

“Will you shettup, please?”

“Duddy, don’t talk like that. He’s excited, Jerry. He –”

“He said a man without land was nobody.”

“He never thought you’d make it,” Dingleman said. “Now you’ve frightened him. They want to die in the same suffocating way they lived, bent over a last or a cutting table or a freezing junk yard shack.”

“He can have any lot he chooses. Any one.”

“Duddy, listen to me.”

“He’s listening, Jerry.
Listen
, Duddy.”

“I’m interested in this land. I’m interested in you too. I can raise the money for development. You can’t.”

“Last time I saw you,” Duddy said, “you couldn’t even raise forty-five hundred. Remember, sonny?”

“We could be partners.”

Duddy watched his grandfather getting smaller and smaller. He disappeared behind a clump of trees.

“Alone, you’ll never raise the money you need. With my help we could turn this into a model resort town in five years.”

Duddy began to laugh. “You heard him, Daddy. You heard the man.”

“Imagine,” Max said, “my boy and Dingleman. Partners.” Duddy laughed some more. “Listen, Dingleman,” he shouted, “get off my land. Beat it.”

“Duddy,” Max began, “what’s got into you?”

“Take off, sonny.”

Max began to shake Duddy.

“You’ll never do it alone,” Dingleman said.

Duddy broke free. “I’m giving you five minutes to get the hell off my land. I’m the king of the castle here, sonny.”

“He’s gone crazy,” Max said to Lennie.

“Duddy,” Lennie said. “Why don’t you listen to Mr. Dingleman? He makes sense.”

Duddy picked up a stone. “I’m giving you exactly five minutes to take Linda and get the hell out of here.”

Linda made as if to slap Duddy’s face, but he caught her hand and held it. “I remember you,” he said. “You slap me and I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t sit down for a week.”

Linda spit.

“It’s good for my grass,” Duddy said.

Dingleman turned and began the long, difficult descent. Max pursued him. “Listen, he’s only a kid. You talk to me, Jerry.”

“You two-bit, dope-smuggling cripple!”

“Stop it,” Lennie said, alarmed.

But Duddy cupped his hands and hollered. “On my land,” he shouted, “no trespassers and no cripples. Except on Schnorrer’s Day.”

“Duddy, please.”

Duddy jumped up and down, he laughed, he grabbed Lennie round the waist and forced him to dance round and round. “Don’t you understand?” he asked. “Don’t you realize that you’re standing smack in the middle of Kravitz Town? This is a goldmine, don’t you realize – He came all this way to beg me for an in.
Faster, you bastard. Run, Dingleman. Let’s see you run on those sticks.”

“Take it easy, Duddy. Please try to calm down.”

Duddy whirled around and heaved the stone he still held into the lake.

“Boy,” Lennie said, “are you ever the manic-depressive type.”

“Come on. Let’s go see what’s ailing the
zeyda.”

Max caught up with his boys halfway down the hill. “You’re my son, Duddy, but I’m going to be frank. You’re in the wrong.”