The Feud

by Thomas Berger

  Tony waited until she had turned from the alley into the side street, and then he said, “I guess you’d know about this, Bernice. Does a girl hold a grudge for very long?”

  “Just let me…” said Bernice, probing for the brake without success. “Hey, how do I stop this?” There was a stop sign at the approaching corner.

  “Right foot,” said Tony.

  She found it. “I thought that was the clutch.”

  “Clutch is left foot, Bernice. Gas and brake is right. You better not forget that.” When they started up again he resumed, “I wouldn’t want this to get beyond you and me, if you don’t mind, but would you marry somebody who did something stupid though he didn’t mean to?”

  She was less nervous now they were rolling freely along. “Well,” she said, “if I was to hold something stupid against any men friends of mine, I wouldn’t have any, to tell you the truth. Guys are always acting stupid. That’s normal for them. They don’t ever know how to act for very long. If you didn’t know how to take care of yourself, boy, you’d go nuts.” Then she realized she was talking to a male, even though it was her brother. “I mean older guys, not a young fellow like yourself. What’s a trouble? You still taking out Mary Catherine Lutz?” Bernice didn’t like Mary Catherine; she thought short hair was ugly, and Mary Catherine’s legs were as muscled as a boy’s. Bernice couldn’t understand what Tony saw in her, and she was relieved when he sneered now.

  “Her? Naw.” He hung his head. “The thing is … this is really hard to tell anybody. It’s so crazy.”

  They were approaching the intersection with Elm Street. A car was stopped there at the red light. Bernice skillfully pushed the brake pedal and slowed to a halt just behind the car ahead. She was warmed up now, had returned to being a master driver.

  “Heck,” she said, “you can tell me. You know I wouldn’t hold it against yuh.” Tony related his thus far mostly dismal connection with Eva Bullard.

  When he was finished, Bernice said, “Is that all?”

  “Ain’t it enough?”

  She shrugged. The blaring horn of an oncoming auto annoyed her: she wasn’t that far over.

  “Be me, I wouldn’t pay any attention to it,” she told Tony, with reference to the trouble between the families.

  He said, “It ain’t as easy as it sounds. I went over to just her neighborhood the other day, and that one they call Reverton, who is some kinda detective for the railroad, he put me under arrest. He pulled his gun on me, for God’s sake.”

  Bernice did not really understand what this meant. She believed that Tony had picked up a tendency to exaggerate in the name of puppy love. She certainly had suffered from that malady in her day. In school she had been crazy about Mr. Keeler, who taught Speech and had a headful of tightly curled brown hair and big sensitive glowing eyes. She realized now, looking back, that there had probably been something wrong with him. He had since got into some kind of trouble and left town, though the details of this matter had been hushed up. He had always been nice to her, that was certain, and had given her a passing grade after an entire year of exasperated sighs. “Honestly, Bernice! I don’t think you’re trying.”

  “You know what they say about a faint heart not getting a fair lady, Tone,” she said to her brother. “I bet Eva has a higher opinion of you since you overcame them obstacles. The way to a man’s heart might be through his stomach, but a girl likes a guy who would put his hand inna fire for her.”

  Distracted by the desire to say what she really meant, which she had not as yet come near to doing, she suddenly recognized that she was too rapidly overtaking the car ahead, and braked vigorously. Luckily Tony’s reflexes were quick, and he caught himself on the dashboard.

  “Sorry,” said she. “Gee, these brakes could sure use some adjusting. They stick…. Uh, all I can say is, you gotta take a chance to get anything worthwhile in this here life of ours. Think I woulda gone anywhere if I had stuck around town and never went to the city? Oh, it might seem darn nice to stay where your friends are and family and all, like the rest of them I went to school with, and sure, some got married and had kids who already are old enough to get chickenpox and whooping cough, and the husband will get the mortgage paid off in thirty years and by then they’ll be ready for the old folks’ home, but I can’t see myself in that picture. But, sure, you got to take some hard knocks and there are days when you feel real blue, but you can’t let ‘em see it or they’ll just give you some more kicks where you sit down.…”

  Up ahead she could see the alleyway where Harvey Yelton often parked his cruiser. The townsfolk were aware of this, but people from elsewhere, passing through, were ofttimes caught by him when they tried to run an orange light or exceed the downtown speed limit, which happened to be 5 MPH, as the tiny sign said, which they always protested they hadn’t seen. “That’s why we use such little letters,” Harvey was known to boast. This might be called a dirty trick, but the people caught were usually those who might turn into troublemakers if not stopped in their tracks: this was particularly true of coloreds and hillbillies.

  Bernice asked Tony, “Where is it you wanna be left off?”

  He seemed amazed. “I wanted to get this thing talked over,” he said slowly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  She rolled slowly past the mouth of the alley. Yessir, there was Harvey. “Well, I dunno what else I can tellya, Tony, except not to be so shy. You’re a swell guy, you got a winning personality, all you need’s some confidence.” She pulled to the curb. “I’m gonna stop here and go see the chief back there about some police business. But listen, you come to me any time you wanna talk. You can always count on me. I mean it, Tone.”

  “Gee,” he said. “Thanks a lot, Bernice. I guess you really helped, but I gotta think about it for a while.”

  “But not too much, Tone! That’s what I’m saying. You got to do something. You won’t win her by just thinking.”

  Tony left the car frowning and walked slowly up the street. Bernice went into the alleyway and up to the passenger’s window of the police car. She tapped on the glass, and when Harvey rolled it down with a scowl, she said, “Spose I could have a few words with you?”

  He peered suspiciously through the windshield, and then came back to her. He spoke in a low, coarse voice. “I’ll meetcha up at the station, see?” He started the cruiser and pulled out of the alley, turning onto Elm.

  Bernice went back to her father’s car. Harvey was out of sight by the time she got started. But Tony could still be seen, as slowly as he was walking. Not wanting to be detected by him as she sailed by, she reversed direction, using the mouth of the alley.

  The police station was situated in the rear of the town hall. Next door was the firehouse, which was mostly unmanned except when the alarm sounded and the volunteers came from all points. However, at the moment the big garage doors were opened and the red engine had been run out onto the concrete apron, where it was being washed by several of the firemen.

  “Hi there, Bernice,” said one of them as she climbed out of the car.

  “Hi there, Harry.”

  Then somebody else said, “Hey, Bernice, after we get done we’re gonna wet our whistles. You wanna drink? It’s on us.”

  “Well, that’s sure the best offer I had in the last five minutes, Ernie,” said she. But if those guys had any idea of loosening her up, they had another think coming. She was getting too old for that kind of crap.

  She went past the parked cruiser and entered the police station. Harvey had a little office up front, with a desk and a couple of chairs, and then down a short corridor there was one jail cell. This was the same kind as could be seen in the movies: the furnishings were a toilet without a lid, a small washbasin, and a bunk that hung from the wall on chains.

  Bernice did not see the chief when she entered, so she poked down the little corridor, and there was Harvey, taking a pee in the toilet of the cell. She backed up and waited in the office part till he came out, buttoning hi
s fly.

  He pointed at the chair in front of the desk as he went behind it. As he sat down, the light of the gooseneck lamp made shadows around the bags under his eyes.

  “Now what’s your business?” he asked sternly.

  She hemmed and hawed for a while, and then she said, “Well, I guess we can talk on the level with one another, Harvey—”

  He interrupted. “I don’t believe it’s right for a girl your age to call me by my first name here in this office. It just don’t seem right. There’s some respect ought to be due.”

  “Why, sure,” said Bernice. “But it’s real funny to call you ‘Chief.’”

  He scowled. “Now, you’re the daughter of my old friend Dolf, and you know I alius been on good terms with your whole family, but darn if I believe you should be disrespectful, girlie.”

  Bernice couldn’t help snickering. “Oh, come on now, Chief. I seen you with your hair down.”

  His face contorted violently, and he stood up. “You think you can march in here and say what you want, you little floozy? Just ‘cause you drop your pants once inna while?”

  Bernice felt as though she had been set down in a bathtub full of ice water. She had never been so insulted in all of her life, and she might well have struck back, had she not come here in a greater interest than petty pride.

  “I’ll just pretend you never said that,” said she, quoting a remembered speech from a movie. “I admit I might of been out uh line, seeing we’re inna police station. But I’m real worried nowadays, see, Harve—uh, Chief … For God’s sake, am I going to have to call yuh that when your child is born?”

  He had continued to glower at her. Now his lower jaw fell. “Huh?”

  She moved quickly to seize the advantage. “That’s right. I’m overdue for my monthly. I don’t have to remind you of what you ‘n’ me did the other day.” He continued to stare stupidly. “Now as a married man I know you’re in a tough spot. I wouldn’t ask you to get divorced, but I guess I could use a few bucks to go away someplace where I ain’t known, and when the time comes, maybe you could show up for a day or two so they would think the baby had a fath—”

  The chief broke in, grinning in a mean kind of way. “That was just yesterday. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Bernice, unless maybe you really are too goddam dumb to know better. You might take after your dad, who I never thought would light many bulbs in the mental department. But your mother’s got some sense. Now, what would she say if she knew you was in this kinda trouble and then tried to blame it on the chief uh police, of all the people inna world?” He shook his big head for a while, and then he took the pistol from his holster and laid it on the desk top. “You see that weapon, Bernice? That’s called a Police Special, thirty-eight caliber. Now, let me giveya a piece of free advice—’cause I can remember you since you was a little baby with a load in your diapers, and I ain’t got nothing against you—let me tellya this, you don’t want never to make any kinda threats against somebody who is legally empowered to carry one of these pistols. I’m telling you that for your own good. I don’t mean you got to be worried about me. Everybody in the world but you, I guess, would know you can’t get pregnant one day after inter-what-do-they-call-it. Now, anybody but me might get real mad about that.” He picked up the weapon and pointed it at her for a moment before returning it to the desk. “And if he was carrying a gun, he might shoot you with it.”

  Bernice was shaking. She said, “I didn’t mean no harm. I guess I’m just a dumb kid. I’m not dry yet behind the ears.” She began to sob.

  The chief rose and came around to her. He leaned over and put his hand down into her blouse, into her brassiere, and lightly pinched her right breast at the nipple. Then he went to the door and locked it. He led her into the cell, put her on the bunk, and he took her.

  Probably because he was worried that someone might knock on the door, the chief was a bit too hasty, and Bernice, who had been slower to arouse than usual, owing to her earlier fear of being shot down in cold blood, had not been satisfied. Therefore when Harvey unlocked the door and sent her on her way with a pat on the behind, she walked more slowly past the firehouse than she might otherwise have done. It was twilight. The boys had finished the washing, and the engine had been pulled back inside the garage, but the big doors were still open.

  The fellow named Ernie spotted her. “Ready for that little drink, Bernice?” He sounded as if he’d already had a few. He came outside. The other guys were grinning, and somebody whistled.

  Bernice spoke in a voice too low for anyone but him to hear. “I ain’t crazy about your friends, Ernie. They could use some lessons in good manners.”

  “Heck, Bernice, we don’t need them,” said Ernie. He was a short guy with sandy hair. She had known him for years but had never been out with him. “We could just go off someplace by ourself.”

  “I’d like that,” said Bernice. “You wouldn’t mind using my car?”

  “Not me,” said Ernie. “Mine is laid up at the moment anyway. Want me to drive?”

  “Yeah,” said she. “Might look better.”

  So Ernie climbed back of the wheel, started the engine, and backed out like he was going to a fire.

  “Hey,” Bernice said, “this is my old man’s ottamobile.”

  “I ain’t doing nothing to it that hasn’t already been done,” Ernie said. “How’d it get so beat up?”

  “You’d be too if you was blown up.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He slammed the shift into first and shot ahead. Bernice saw the other fireman grinning at them, and she felt like shaking her fist, but she didn’t do it.

  She asked, “Where we gonna have that drink?”

  “You’ll see,” said Ernie, patting his pocket and winking at her.

  “You carrying a pint? I hope it’s not some junk like sherry wine you got at the drugstore.”

  Ernie pretended to be insulted. “You certainly have a small opinion of me, Bernice. I’ll have you know it’s Rock ‘n’ Rye.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, O.K…. Well, what’ve you been doing with yourself lately, Ernie? Just catting around?”

  “I ain’t ready to settle down yet, Bernice. I still like to have fun.”

  “Pretty much the way I always felt till now. I been down the city, you know.”

  “So I heard. What you doing back here with us hicks?”

  “There’s a lot to be said for the old hometown, Ernie. I’m thinking about staying for a while. There’s just so much wild oats you can sow. There comes a time when you just have got to stop and take a look at where] you’re heading, if anyplace. Yuh know what I mean?”

  “I dunno, Bernice, sometimes I feel there oughta be more to life than pumping gas, but I don’t know what. Still, I have me some fun when I’m on my own time.”

  “Still live with your mom, Ernie?”

  “I couldn’t afford to live noplace else and have anything left over. ‘Course, I pay room and board, but it ain’t like what it’d cost me otherwise, and then she’d be all alone, and my dad didn’t leave much. She couldn’t afford to keep living there without my help. So it works out O.K.”

  Bernice glanced through the windshield. “Where are we going, the cemetery?” The lovers’ lane was not actually inside the graveyard, but on an unpaved lane just behind the wall. It was where Harvey Yelton had had her for the first time.

  Ernie shook his head. “Naw. That place’s too hot to handle right now. Yelton is there all the time, and he’s been getting real nasty, and…” He looked at her and lowered his voice, as if he might be overheard. “What he’s done more than once lately, if he catches a couple inna back seat, is give the guy a real scare, like threatening to turn him over to the G-men—he claims that’s guvment property up there right back of the graveyard—and then he runs him off. But he makes the girl stay behind, and he threatens to tell her folks unless she puts out for him! Ain’t that some-pin?” Ernie hit the steering wheel with his fist. “And there ain’t a damn thing an
ybody can do about it! The dirty old bastard!”

  “Well, you don’t have to get foulmouthed about it,” complained Bernice.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Ernie. “But that really burns me up. Man, I’d like to get that bird outside his jurisdiction. You know, he can’t do nothing to yuh if you’re over the town line. The only way he could do that would be if him and the Millville police had what you call a reciprosky agreement, whereby each force could chase somebody into the other’s territory in a actual pursuit, you know? But Harvey and the chief over there—name of Shell, I think—hate each other’s guts so much that a guy could go over the line from either side, doing a hundred, and they wouldn’t let the other cop chase him, and just for spite they wouldn’t chase him theirself.”

  Bernice rubbed her nose. So Harvey’d been getting it regularly all over the place. No wonder she drew a blank when trying to talk to him about her problem. She could forget about the police chief as a possible answer.

  “I’d just like to trick him into Millville, you know?” said Ernie. “Just over the line, one of them back streets, so he wouldn’t know just exactly where he was. And then I’d take that gun and club away from him, and beat him till he couldn’t walk.”

  “Gee,” Bernice said, “you sure got it in for him. You wouldn’t happen to be one of the guys he sent home from the cemetery, wouldja?”

  Ernie nodded bitterly, and he said, “Maybe.”

  Bernice decided to lean on him. “Say, I’m getting pretty thirsty. Maybe we just oughta go into the next tavern and have a beer.”

  “Naw,” he said. “I found a better place than the cemetery ever was.”

  “You have, huh?” She looked out to see where they were by now. It had become pretty dark, and the streetlights, where there were any, had come on. “Where are we?”

  “Millville,” Ernie said smugly. “There’s a real private place up here. It’s an otto body shop. It’s where my own car is right now. I banged it up some, and they’re gonna pound out the fender. But they all go home at five, and you can drive in around back of them garages.” He was pointing: they had already arrived. “Nobody can see you in here from the street back there.”