The Feud (23 page)

At last he gave it up, came out, and pulled the sweater neatly down at her waist. At this point she seemed to sigh, but so softly that he might well have only imagined it. Her legs were still apart, with the hem of the plaid skirt over her knees. Her feet were swinging, in their saddle oxfords and white anklets, and the heels bounced away from each impact with the wall. Her round face was expressionless; in this kind of darkness her eyes looked smaller than in the light. All at once it occurred to him that Eva was too young to have any personality, so that while she was so pretty and physically perfect in every way, there was nothing else about her that was interesting.

It would have been easy to panic at this point; he had after all promised to marry her and furthermore to take her to Canada, a place which he didn’t even know how to reach, let alone get a job in. In addition, it was a foreign land, and perhaps not even a very scrupulous one, if it claimed to own the Niagara Falls. They might draft him into their army and then get into a war with some nice little country like Holland. And now that he was in this pessimistic state of mind he remembered that in the movies about the Northwest Mounted Police they were always drinking toasts to the Queen, as they did in the ones about India, with which they were intermixed in his memory, whereas he was a one-hundred-percent red-blooded American who did not bow down to foreign monarchs.

Now Eva sighed loudly and complained, “Gosh, am I hungry.”

This was a beautiful excuse for him to get out of his immediate predicament. He said eagerly, “Well, we better get something to eat before we go anywhere else. I’m real hungry myself. Ain’t there anyplace open in Millville?”

Eva groaned. “It’s so
late.”
She added peevishly, “Why didn’t you come over earlier?”

He saw an opportunity here to get into a quarrel that might free him of her completely, but was too softhearted to use it. “I was busy,” he said. “But I guess you’re right. It probably wasn’t the best time, but a person can’t always control these things…. Say, maybe we
should
wait till tomorrow.”

Eva jumped nimbly down from the wall. “Are you getting cold feet or something?”

She had a way of keeping him off balance. He had heard that about women, but until now it had been merely theoretical, applying to grown men.

“Not me! I was thinking about
you.”

“Then get me something to eat,” she wailed. “I’m
starving.”
She walked away from him. She was just a selfish, small-minded little girl, obviously incapable of doing any of the things that a wife should do for a man. She didn’t even seem to know that it was the female who was supposed to take care of the food. But he also understood that he was cutting an inferior figure, losing the authority with which he had begun. Relative to her, at least, he should be a man of the world, and yet—But then, inspired by desperation, he got the first practical idea he had had all evening, perhaps the best since the beginning of this romance.

He caught up with Eva. “There’s a bakery in Millville, ain’t there?”

But now she was turning against him. “Why do you always say ‘ain’t’?” she asked. “Don’t your teachers in Hornbeck tell you it is ignorant?”

Tony stiffened. “I don’t like to talk like a girl. Somebody might think I was a pansy.”

Eva put up her chin in a snippy way. “Well, you don’t have to talk like some stupid person to be a he-man.” She proceeded to mention a movie star or two who spoke like gentlemen while also being tough as nails.

Tony realized that the situation was in danger of deteriorating beyond recovery unless he showed heroic patience at this point. “You’re talking like some
teacher,”
he complained, but not bitterly, and he went on, “They work all night in bakeries, and usually you can go there and they’ll sell you doughnuts they just made, while they’re still hot.”

Eva was transformed. “Really?” She went up on the tips of her toes. He had never seen her this excited. “I didn’t know that. I hope you’re right.” But until he was proved otherwise, he was climbing in her estimation. She was at her best when in good spirits, and for the moment anyway he was not bored. He had learned the truth that nothing in the world can provide as much simple joy as the presence of a pretty girl who is anticipating some pleasure that is within one’s power to provide.

The Millville bakery was just beyond the bank. That the bakers were at work was not in doubt: the yeasty aromas could be smelled for a block. The shop was closed, of course, and they went around back, through the alleyway, and saw that the wooden door was thrown open, with only the screen door in place. Tony opened the latter and stepped inside. The ovens made it really hot in there; no wonder the door was open. The several bakers wore T-shirts and overseas caps in white, and their hairy forearms were prominent as they manhandled lumps and hunks and ropes of dough on a long floury table.

“Hey whatcha want?” the nearest man shouted, not letting up on the dough he was shaping. He had light curly hair.

“You got fresh doughnuts?”

“More ‘n’ you can eat and den some,” the baker yelled jovially, and he went to a high rack with many shallow shelves and before choosing one asked, “Blain or bowdered or yeast or chelly or crullers regular or French?”

Through the screen door Tony asked Eva what she wanted, and when she said she didn’t know, he turned to the baker and said expansively, “Mix ‘em: a dozen all mixed.”

It was a pleasure just to stand there and watch the man deftly fill the order from tray after sliding tray, plucking up, inside one of those little squares of baker’s paper, two of each type of doughnut and depositing them, speedily but gently, inside the big white paper bag, which here and there soon showed almost transparent areas of absorbed grease.

When Tony paid for the doughnuts the baker made change from the pocket of his white canvas pants. The other men had continued to work briskly all this while, going back and forth to the big ovens at the far end of the room. The one who had waited on Tony went back to the loaf of bread he was braiding.

Tony was reluctant to leave this hot, aromatic place. He opened the screen door and handed the bag out to Eva, who immediately plunged her arm into it.

He came back and spoke to the baker. “How do you get started in this line of work?”

“Baker? Bractice. Onna chob. You wanna be baker, kid? Hard work, I can tellya. Nights ain’t choorown. You go to bed when dey’re all getting up.”

“But you like it?”

“I’m just a dumb Dutchman,” said the baker. “I don’t know no better. You wanna chob, kid? Helping out in the shop on Saddy? You want it, you get here early, else we’ll get somebody else. Kid we had got hired at the oil station. Just don’t expect to get rich quick.”

Tony stared in amazement. “This coming Sairdy? I’ll be here real early.”

“O.K., kid. What’s your name?”

“Tony.”

The baker laughed. “Whadduh yuh, some Dago?”

“Huh-uh.”

The baker laughed again. “It’s all the same to me. You come on Saddy.”

Outside, Tony caught up with Eva, who was slowly walking out to the street, chewing away. She held a fragment of doughnut too small to identify as to type.

“Hey,” Tony said, “know what?” His glasses had fogged up in the cool night air, and he got out the piece of toilet paper he carried for the purpose and cleaned them as he talked. “I just got offered a job there.”

“No kidding,” said Eva. Having swallowed the rest of the doughnut in hand, she went into the bag and brought out a French cruller. “Gee, this one’s cold. The others were not exactly hot, but they were warm anyway. Boy, what a good idea. How’d joo know about it? I never did, and I live here,” With one bite she took away almost half of the cruller.

“We always do that over in Hornbeck.”

“Huh.”

He put his glasses on and held out his hand. “Can I have one?”

“Uh.” She surrendered the bag, which had a nice warm feel to it as well as that delicious aroma.

He said, “I guess if I work there I can get a cut rate on everything, breads and cakes and all.” The prospect of a steady supply of doughnuts might serve to console her in case she had really set her heart on going to Canada.

They were under a streetlamp in front of the bake shop. She was watching him grope in the bag. “What are you looking for, jelly? There aren’t any more.”

“You already ate them
both?”

She whined, “Well, they’re my favorite kind.”

“You eat so fast, you’ll get a stomachache, for God’s sake,” said he. He assumed he had had a jelly doughnut coming, since it was all his idea and he had paid for the bag.

“Well…”

What a baby she was! What was he doing here? He found a plain doughnut, his own least favorite. It tasted of nothing but grease. She took the bag back.

“Listen, Eva,” he said. “Maybe we oughta wait a while before running away. I mean, you’re pretty young, you know.”

“O.K.” She now was eating the other French cruller. Apparently she had no concept of fairness. You might have thought she was an only child. He pitied her poor brother if she acted like this at home.

“You don’t mind?”

Her mouth full, she answered after a delay. “Naw. I always did think it was just something you were saying.”

That was pretty insulting, but it was probably better than if she were kicking and screaming about his broken promise.

“Oh,” said he, “I was plenty serious, but I got to thinking about your age, and my dad’s in the hospital, and all.”

“So’s my father!” Eva said competitively. “Are you just saying that because of my father?”

This kid stuff burned him up. “No,” he said in a mocking tone, his mouth screwed up, “I didn’t say that because of your father. I didn’t even know about your father, for God’s sake.”

“I’ll thank you not to curse at me,” she said. “That might make you a big shot in Hornbeck, but it doesn’t go over in this town, and that’s where you are right now, and don’t forget it. Also, I distinctly remember telling you all about my father being sick in the hospital because of what your family did to him.” Her face twisted up, and she began to cry.

As soon as he saw the tears Tony felt like scum, and he said, “I’m sorry, Eva. Don’t cry. Have the regular crullers. Or listen, I’ll go back and get some jelly doughnuts or anything you want…. Come on, I didn’t mean it. Honestly. And my family didn’t do anything to your dad. It’s probably all some kinda”—a sudden inspiration supplied him with a high-toned phrase he had heard somewhere, no doubt from Jack—”it’s probably a comedy of errors.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s anything to laugh about!” She continued to cry. “I think you’re the meanest person I ever met, and no wonder, considering what an awful family you come from.”

“Now wait a minute! That ain’t right—”

“There you go saying ‘ain’t’ again. You are the most ignorant person I ever did—”

“Aw, go to hell.” Tony astonished himself: this was not premeditated. He was sicker of her than he had realized.

Eva stared at him for a moment, but she had stopped crying. She finally said, “Boy oh boy,” shook her head, brought a powdered doughnut out of the bag, and, eating, walked away in the direction of her home.

He let her go. He had an instinctive feeling that an apology would not be well received at this point. Besides, he was getting some satisfaction from his new-found freedom.

The house was dark when Tony got home. He went near the garage and took a quiet pee so that he wouldn’t have to use the bathroom, then entered through the kitchen door. He climbed the stairs quietly and reached his room in the dark, without bumping into anything. He had lived in this house all his life. Without putting on a light he got into his pajamas and climbed into bed. He would have gone to sleep right away had not Jack spoken up from the other bed.

“I thought you took off.”

“I thought about it,” Tony replied, in a low voice: the doors to all of the rooms were usually kept open, unless someone was sick. “Mom say anything?”

“Huh-uh,” Jack said. “I told her you went to bed early, in case you didn’t want it known.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have, so thanks…. Listen, I’ll give you your money back in the morning.”

“No hurry,” said Jack. “Hey, Tone, it’s like the old days, huh?”

Tony said, “I decided to get a job around here….” He remembered that Jack was just a kid. “Listen, it’s getting pretty late. You better go to sleep.”

Reverton was awakened by the sound of the telephone, coming from out front. He climbed off the bunk, left the cell, and limped up the short hallway barefoot and in his union suit, but before he got there the bell stopped ringing and he heard Ray Dooley pick up the instrument and talk. Rev was near the lavatory at this point. He went in, and having lowered the trapdoor in his underwear, sat down on the throne and began to grunt.

Daylight was coming through the etched-glass window above him. He proved to be constipated, and before long he rose and returned to the cell. He felt the effects of the punishment he had taken the night before: he was sore all over and half-lame. He was getting into his clothes when Ray came to the doorway.

“Oh, you’re up. Clive just give me a call. He says he’s got quite a shiner from that there door he walked into yesterday, and he don’t think it looks good for the chief of police to be seen like ‘at, and he wants me to stay on duty. Ordinarily I’d be going to work right now onna first shift down the mill.”

Before going to sleep the night before, Rev had put his teeth into a tin cup full of water, on the floor beneath the bunk. There wasn’t any chair or table in the cell; the cup had hung from the wooden peg that now held his coat and hat. He put on those items and returned the teeth to his mouth.

After a yawn Ray continued, “I been up all day ‘n’ night. I need to get me some sleep, before I pass out. I’d be obliged if you could stay around for a while and answer the phone if it rings. Just gimme a holler if somepin serious might happen, but not if just somebody’s goddam mutt just run off, get it?”

Bad as he felt, Rev did not forget his pride. “Wellssir,” he said, “I might ssee my way clear to doing you a favor. I mysself ain’t due on duty up the railroad yard till ssafter-noon.”