‘That there’s your potty! If you have to, use it!’
Darleen scarcely touched her supper—she told the ladies she was too tired to eat. She thought she would go to the movies and then go home to bed.
‘You mustn’t take it so hard, girl, just because them little devils got in a picklement!’ Mrs. Feeley cautioned kindly. ‘All kids is cruel to one another—an’ I don’t believe he’ll ever do a thing like that ’long as he lives!’
Darleen agreed, and went away, saying she would see the ladies in the morning.
‘Gawd,’ Mrs. Feeley breathed when she had left, ‘she sure don’t aim for them two whelps to make none o’ the mistakes she’s made! Sure beginnin’ young!’
‘If such strength of character can only be developed in her own behalf,’ Miss Tinkham said, ‘she will soon become a pillar of virtue!’
‘Yeah. But I wish to hell that Johnny’d get back! Even if ’twas only for a coupla days—just long enough to keep her in the buggy!’ Mrs. Rasmussen was too practical to expect to see figs grow on thistles. Seeing that her house-mates were occupied with their beer and Hobby Lobby on the radio, she sneaked out the back door with some cookies in her pocket.
The next morning Darleen was late. When she did appear, she was downcast and extremely quiet, even for her.
‘Her eyes looks like two holes burned in a saddle-blanket,’ Mrs. Rasmussen whispered when Darleen took the children out to the yard.
‘Gawd, she sure looks bed-raggled,’ Mrs. Feeley agreed.
‘Of course, Johnny has been gone a great many months,’ Miss Tinkham explained, ‘and you just can’t rationalize that! Sublimation is all very well, but after all—’ Miss Tinkham raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
Mrs. Feeley and Mrs. Rasmussen looked at her with new respect: for an old maid, she certainly knew what the score was.
‘You can call it all them fancy words you’ve a mind to,’ Mrs. Feeley announced. ‘But I can tell you what it is: it’s them damn picture shows she goes to; them Clark Gables! Sits through ’em twice, she does! Mr. Feeley always said, “What the eye don’t see, the heart don’t long for!”’
Miss Tinkham and Mrs. Rasmussen nodded sagely.
‘I think the Organ Recitals at Peaceful Rest Park would be better for her,’ Miss Tinkham said.
Mrs. Feeley giggled and said she didn’t think much of that either.
If Darleen was in the clutches of the blue-devils, Pierpont and Myrna certainly did not suffer for it. She stripped the sideboards off an old packing box and filled it with sand from a pile in the corner. The children played happily in the sand box building army camps all morning. Again they had their lunch in the trailer. When they were bedded down for their nap, Darleen went to the Ark for her lunch.
‘Here she comes,’ Mrs. Rasmussen whispered. ‘Now remember: we ain’t noticed a thing!’
Mrs. Rasmussen set small Mexican earthenware pots at each place. They were covered with flaky crumbling golden-brown crust. Mrs. Rasmussen had had these pies in mind yesterday when she bought the six veal kidneys and the piece of beef chuck. The beef and kidney pies oozed rich brown gravy.
For Darleen’s benefit, Mrs. Rasmussen had prepared her own super-brand of iced coffee. It was rich and dark, tasted of whole cloves, stick cinnamon, and vanilla. For a flourish, the chef sneaked down to the comer and bought a Dixie cup of vanilla ice-cream to float on top of the tall glass of coffee. She figured there was no use kicking a fellow when he was down.
The Noah’s Arkies drank ice-cold beer with their meat pies. Darleen drank her heavenly coffee while waiting for her pie to cool off. After all, she did not yet have the zinc bottom and copper lining of Mrs. Feeley and her house-mates.
After the violence of the onslaught had diminished a little and the ladies were sipping lazily, Darleen said:
‘Mrs. Feeley, if it’s all the same to you ladies, I been thinking—’
‘Y’aint gonna quit an’ give up now, are you?’ Mrs. Feeley interrupted.
Darleen shook her head.
‘I was gonna ask you if it was all right for me to move into the trailer—I could pay you rent for it instead of my room.’
‘Gawdlemighty! Ain’t we the jug-heads? Why couldn’t we ’a’ thought o’ that?’ Mrs. Feeley yelled. ‘An’ you’ll not pay no rent neither!’
Darleen smiled wanly.
‘Seems like it would help to keep me from feeling lonesome nights. And then you ladies wouldn’t be tied down so bad, in case you wanted to go out of an evening!’
‘Discretion is the better part of valor!’ Miss Tinkham said.
‘I didn’t take no steps till I talked it over with you ladies. If you’ll mind Pierpont and Myrna, I’ll run over and pack. I’m giving up my telephone, too!’ Darleen said solemnly. The air was full of the smoke of burning bridges.
‘How’ll Johnny find you when he does get in?’ Mrs. Feeley asked.
‘I left word at the Café, and I’ll leave word with Mabel—she’s good about addresses and stuff.’
Mrs. Feeley could well imagine how she might be, but thoughtfully refrained from saying so.
‘Sure! Go ahead! You need Ol’ Timer an’ the truck?’
‘I’ll just take a taxi—there won’t be so much. The kids will probably sleep till I get back.’
Darleen fixed her face and left. She was no sooner out the door than the ladies joined hands and did a solemn mazourka in the middle of the floor.
‘Now, if we’d ’a’ suggested it,’ Mrs. Feeley said, ‘she’d ’a’ felt ill-used an’ like we was spyin’ on her!’
‘Worth ten times as much, comin’ from her thataway!’ Mrs. Rasmussen agreed.
‘True it is she had one failing!’
‘Had a woman ever less?’ Miss Tinkham recited, thinking of her darling Robbie Burns. She thought it was too bad he had not had the grace to fight and run away; he might have lived to fight another day—and the world would have been the richer for his running.
Chapter 9
MRS. FEELEY AND MRS. RASMUSSEN had just entered the Ark after a Saturday morning inspection tour of Darleen’s new home in the trailer. The scanty belongings of the Garfunkles were neatly stowed away, and a few of Darleen’s lamps and knick-knacks scattered about gave the place a homelike air. Old Timer had not intended to gyp the city—he had run an electric light line directly from the street to the trailer on the grounds that it would not be patriotic to ask for a new meter when they were so scarce.
‘Now I’m gonna learn her how to make some crash covers for them bunks,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said. ‘She’s already got it in mind to make her some drapes for them windows! It’ll sure be cozy!’
‘Yeup!’ Mrs. Feeley agreed. ‘An’ no damn telephone!’ She did not believe in subjecting Darleen’s sales resistance to any unnecessary pressure.
Miss Tinkham came in to say that Darleen’s record-player worked just beautifully. She also announced that Darleen would join them as soon as she got the children started building an airport out of the old hollow tile.
A taxi-door slammed in front of the Ark and the ladies rushed out to see who it was. An enormous sailor in a too-tight suit of whites was coming up the walk in great strides. He wore the rating marks of a second-class boatswain’s mate.
‘What you want, Boats?’ Mrs. Feeley demanded, remembering that he who hits first hits twice.
‘I wanna see my kids!’ Boats roared, grinning hugely and rubbing his hamlike hands in glee.
Mrs. Feeley’s jaw dropped.
‘Gawd! Then the Japs didn’t assinate you, after all!’
‘Whatcha mean, din’ assinate me? They tried all they knowed how, but we was too rugged for ’em!’ he boomed.
‘Where’s your wife?’ Mrs. Feeley demanded before unlatching the screen door.
‘She’s quittin’!’ The sailor grabbed the handle of the screen door and began trying to shake it down. ‘Quit bumpin’ your gums, Grandma! Lemme see my little boys!’ he demanded.
‘Gawd!�
� Mrs. Feeley cried, unlatching the door, ‘it ain’t Garfunkle! It’s the father o’ the twins! How the hell did you get here?’
Mrs. Rasmussen ran to wheel out the baby-buggy and Miss Tinkham drew up a chair for the returned warrior.
‘What a delightful surprise for dear Lily!’ she cried.
The boatswain’s mate stood regarding his sleeping progeny with awe. He took off his white hat and stood twisting it nervously in his great paws.
‘Chee!’ he breathed, awe-stricken. ‘Chee! Ain’t them pretty-ful?’
‘You said that right, Boats!’ Mrs. Feeley agreed.
In honor of such a momentous occasion, Mrs. Rasmussen graciously consented to awaken Franklin and Winston. The boys woke good-naturedly and soon sat enthroned, each on a monumental knee. Boats handled them as if they might break and tried vainly to subdue his overwhelming pride in them.
‘Chee!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ain’t them woit’ fightin’ alla flies, an’ mosquitoes, an’ Japs for? T’ink they knows their Old Man?’ he inquired hopefully.
Franklin and Winston were swarming over him with their usual open-hearted abandon. They were clutching at the array of medal ribbons that adorned their father’s gorilla-like chest. One of them was chewing the ends of his father’s black silk neckerchief in a state of great bliss.
‘Why, sure they know you!’ Mrs. Feeley assured him. ‘You don’t think they’d allow no common stranger to dandle ’em like that, do you?’ she challenged.
‘Tell us how you managed to get back,’ Miss Tinkham urged, ‘and I do hope you are going to have a nice long furlough!’
‘Furlough, hell!’ the sailor roared, almost knocking his sons off his lap in the effort to get his huge fist into the tiny pocket of his jumper. ‘I got orders!’
He was about to get hold of the illusive papers when he remembered that it was not permitted to show military orders to civilians.
‘Chee! I forgot: I ain’t allowed to show ’em to you! But I got ’em!’ He smiled widely and happily. ‘Shore dooty! Up to Vallejo! Lily’s quittin’ right now, an’ we’re gonna be a reg’lar fambly: us an’ the babies! Maybe a year I’ll be there! Maybe more!’
The ladies sank into the first chairs that came handy.
Mrs. Feeley was the first to recover: ‘You ain’t aimin’ to take the twins away from us?’ she asked, in a small voice.
‘Chee! We got to! Don’t y’unnerstan’? Lily an’ me’s gonna live in a house in Vallejo—like reg’lar people! I’m comin’ home three nights outa four—jus’ like a civilian! Ain’t that somepin’?’
The ladies understood all too well—bang went another dream! That was the way of the Navy—never knew where they’d be from one minute to the next. But the poor dope had earned his shore duty, no doubt.
‘Just don’t seem like I can get used to the idea o’ not havin’ ’em to do for!’ Mrs. Rasmussen moaned. ‘I’ve took care o’ kids all my life, but I ain’t never loved none, before!’
‘Nor me neither,’ Mrs. Feeley said, not to be outdone. ‘They sure wormed their fat way into our hearts! For Gawd’s sake give us all a beer to cry in!’ she sniffed.
Boats was moved, too, for he fished out a handkerchief and trumpeted into it sonorously.
‘Chee,’ he said sadly, ‘I sure hate to take ’em away from youse, but ya see how it is! Don’t think I’m forgettin’ the way they was took care of neither! ’Tain’t just no money can pay for nothin’ like that. Nothin’ they ain’t had! Not even a belly-ache! Lily done tol’ me!’
‘We seen our dooty an’ we done it,’ Mrs. Rasmussen said quietly.
‘In the beginnin’!’ Mrs. Feeley amended. ‘But after that, we begun to love ’em somethin’ fierce!’
Mrs. Rasmussen had relieved Boats of his offspring and was feeding them. He turned his attention to his beer, swilling it down with great gusty sighs of enjoyment.
‘When you gonna take ’em away?’ Mrs. Rasmussen asked.
‘Lily, she’s comin’ in the car soon’s she gets her pay that’s comin’ to her! Then we gotta pack an’ scram to Vallejo! I gotta find a place for us to live at!’ Boats shouldered his responsibilities cheerfully.
‘Gawd!’ Mrs. Feeley cried, ‘they’ll be took off, an’ we ain’t had no chance to get ’em no little present nor nothin’! We ain’t even had their pitchers took!’
‘Chee,’ Boats sputtered uncomfortably. Then the light broke. ‘I tell you what! We’ll have ’em took an’ send it down to youse! You know, one o’ them nice ones: lyin’ on their belly on a nice goatskin? I seen ’em swell like that! An’ when that guy comes by wit’ that Shetland pony, we’ll have one took o’ them sittin’ on the pony, special for youse, on account o’ you folks used ’em so good!’
That softened the blow of the parting; the ladies felt that Boats was a man of his word and the sight of Franklin and Winston on a Shetland pony would indeed be a consolation.
Darleen took a peek at Boats from the back door, sized up the situation at a glance, and decided that Pierpont and Myrna did not need to make his acquaintance. Someone might mention the hot-foot and Pierpont had already been punished sufficiently.
Mrs. Rasmussen was rounding up the various bags and basket that held the accouterment of the twins. From time to time she wiped her nose and took a swig of beer. Mrs. Feeley was watching for Lily and Miss Tinkham was entertaining Boats.
Soon Lily arrived with the car, still clad in her slacks from the plant. She came up the walk with traces of tears on her face.
‘Seems like you’d be laughin’ instead o’ cryin’!’ Mrs. Feeley said, holding open the door. ‘Your man home safe, an’ you gonna live like reg’lar people again!’
‘I know it!’ Lily sniffed, ‘but I didn’t know I had so many friends down to the plant! They sure hated to see me leave!’
‘Yeup! That’s how it is: cryin’ because you’re so glad to see ’em back, cryin’ because you can’t bear to see ’em go, an’ cryin’ because you gotta leave! Well, we’re all happy for you, Lily! You worked like ten men an’ took care o’ them babies nights an’ week-ends! An’ you’ve always took ’em away an’ brung ’em on time, too!’ Mrs. Feeley would be sobbing in another minute.
‘Yeah. An’ you always paid right on the dot, too!’ Mrs. Rasmussen added. ‘Lemme tell you, Mister: was all the war-widows like Lily here, the United States would come outa the war in good shape!’
Lily and her husband were vastly touched by the eulogy.
Miss Tinkham nodded and sniffed in the background.
Mrs. Feeley could stand the emotional strain no longer: ‘It’s heart-rendering, that’s what it is! Lily, ’long’s you gotta take ’em, take ’em an’ go! We don’t want the Ark floatin’ away in no flood, but it’s sure as hell goin’ to if you don’t take ’em away quick! Our damn bladders is hung right behind our eyes these days!’
Lily saw the tremendous effort the ladies were making not to dissolve into tears, so she wheeled her youngsters out while their father gathered up their traps.
At the door Boats turned and mumbled: ‘An’ don’t think we’re gonna forget youse neither!’
The three friends stood in the doorway watching the little family go.
As they drove off, Mrs. Feeley remarked: ‘Guess all the fightin’ an’ bloodshed won’t be in vain, after all! They’ll be thousands o’ them guys like him comin’ home to appreciate their wives an’ kids that thought they was just pests before. That was real nice what he said about them bein’ worth fightin’ for! Somebody pour me a beer!’
After lunch the council of war met once more. Miss Tinkham broke out the book and consulted the table of accomplishment. Darleen scrubbed and brushed the Garfunkles almost out of recognition and took them to the matinee to see Hopalong Cassidy.
‘Now it’s quiet an’ nice, we can figger out what we’re gonna do to replace the twins,’ Mrs. Feeley said.
‘It seems to me,’ Miss Tinkham said, ‘that we could count Darleen as a bit of service. After all, John
ny is serving his country and his mind would be much more at ease if he knew the sort of work she was doing now—not to mention the improvement in her living conditions!’
Her friends nodded.
‘An’ the wife an’ kids o’ that murdered flier had oughta count too!’ Mrs. Rasmussen added.
‘Damned if they didn’t look almost human when they went out that door,’ Mrs. Feeley mused. ‘’Course they ain’t no tellin’ how long they’ll stay that way!’
‘Well, one thing sure: we ain’t takin’ no babies in the place o’ that there Franklin an’ Winston!’ Mrs. Rasmussen said stubbornly. ‘Couldn’t nobody never be like them!’
‘I agree with you!’ Miss Tinkham said, looking up from the chart. ‘We want nothing to spoil their beautiful memory! It is indeed fortunate that Darleen’s maternal instinct manifested itself just at the time we became involved with the Garfunkle children!’ Where children were concerned, Miss Tinkham could take them or leave them alone.
‘Yeup! I’d kinda like to get into somethin’ with a little fight in it, myself!’ Mrs. Feeley said.
‘Try an’ get it!’ Mrs. Rasmussen remarked dourly. ‘You ain’t forgot what they done to us at the airy-plane factory?’
‘Well, they ain’t the only biscuit in the slop!’ Mrs. Feeley argued. ‘Does a body want work, they can find it!’
‘We’d oughta find us a man to relieve!’ Mrs. Rasmussen grinned.
‘We sure as hell ain’t gonna find one sittin’ on the curbstone countin’ the stars! Let’s get out where things is happenin’ an’ see if we can’t find us one!’ Mrs. Feeley suggested.
The ladies looked at each other for a few moments before it dawned on them that there was nothing to hold them back. It was not yet three o’clock and there was something cozy about the bars on a Saturday afternoon. The bars were still nice and clean then—the air was not yet full of stale smoke and liquor fumes. The service men would be out and around. After five the defense workers would show up. And the slackers and idlers were always underfoot—not that anybody would have anything to do with them! Maybe they would not miss the twins so sorely if they went out and lapped up a few. Darleen could get her own supper along with the children’s.
High Time Page 9
