Damnation of Adam Blessing

by Packer, Vin

  “Eloise Siden … I think I remember.”

  “Dot’s roomie.”

  Then he did remember. The girl from Texas who booked New York to Caracas and smelled of garlic. “Oh, how are you?” said Adam.

  “I’m fine, bub, but I can’t say the same for Dot, thanks to you! Who in blue blazes do you think you are, bub! I suppose it’s your idea of fun to stand someone up! First you get her to do your dirty work and show up at the confounded funeral service and then you hightail it off someplace else and don’t even — ”

  God! Adam held the telephone arm away from his ear. He had completely forgotten the service for Mrs. Auerbach last night; forgotten his date for dinner afterward with Dorothy Schackleford!

  “Listen!” he tried to interrupt Eloise Siden’s bombardment, but he was glad that he could not, for he did not know what he would have said anyway. He was lower than a rat, said Eloise Siden, too low for worms to crawl under him. Eloise and Shirley Spriggs and Rose Marie Scoppettone and Norman had been up until all hours trying to quiet Dorothy down.

  “Dotty said you must have been in an accident,” Eloise Siden continued, “and she kept making us phone your place, but I knew the straight poop, bub! You never fooled me for a minute! Norman either! He’d like to plant one on your kisser good!”

  Again, Adam held the telephone arm away. Shirley Spriggs, the girl in the Japanese kimona who had vowed not to dance for two years; and Rose Marie, whose last name meant “big gun” in Italian; who answered ”Mais oui.” Norman, fat bald slob Norman…. Adam could picture the whole affair…. Tomorrow he would call Dorothy Schackleford at her office. He would think of some explanation. He would take her to dinner at Ficklin’s, the fancy restaurant without menus; he might even get theater tickets. It would be easy enough to straighten out the whole business where Dorothy Shackleford was concerned, but what about Geismar? Lately Geismar was sarcastic and suspicious, as though he were sitting in judgment. Adam knew Geismar had attended Mrs. Auerbach’s service; Geismar was a goody-goody if Adam had ever seen one. Adam would have to invent an air-tight excuse for that one! He brought the phone back to his ear. Eloise Siden was calling him a two-faced turd. Adam hung up on her.

  • • •

  He finished the letter to Billy, addressed it and sealed the envelope. Tomorrow he would sell Goethe’s son’s Stammbuch. With part of the money he would replace what he had spent from the sale of “The Lucy Baker album.” That would satisfy Geismar that Adam was doing nothing crooked. The Stammbuch was Adam’s, after all; he did not have to wait for the will to be probated to sell something that was already his. With the rest of the money, Adam would go to Europe with Charity. He would still have enough left over to live on for years! … When he returned from Europe, he would re-open The Mart. He would remodel it, hire several helpers, and expand the business. He would marry Charity and invite Billy to be best man. He would name his first son after Billy. Oh, he would show Billy some tricks! Adam’s spirits began to soar! His headache went and he began to feel marvellous. He would ask Billy to be his son’s godfather. Adam laughed aloud. He even felt a certain affection for Billy at that moment. Life would become a game he would play with Billy. It was a fascinating idea. Perhaps Adam would one day write a novel about it — call it The Eternal Contest. It would be a best seller and Adam would dedicate it to Billy. Adam was so pleased with his reflections that he walked to the kitchen and made himself a Bloody Mary. Since he did not know Charity’s telephone number, and it was not listed, the only choice Adam had was to call on her. He would do just that after his drink. He would shower and shave and dress in his new chalk-striped black wool worsted suit. If the florist was open on Sunday, he would buy a bouquet for Charity’s mother. He drank the Bloody Mary, hoping that both Mr. and Mrs. Cadwallader would be at home. After all, he smiled to himself, he had to meet his future in-laws sometime, didn’t he?

  11

  … and that in any event, Charity is leaving for Europe very soon. It behooves you to bear in mind that up until now, we have tolerated you in a manner which is completely out of proportion to the embarrassment and general harassment to which you have subjected us.

  This past week has been one importunity after another. Your sober apologetics have been every bit as vulgar and distasteful as your inebriated demonstrations, and your primitive persistence is alarming. As I have pointed out to you more than once, Mr. Cadwallader is a cardiac. Not for that reason alone am I warning you now that any attempt at future contact with this family, will result in Police action.

  None of us wants to see you or hear from you nor receive anything in the way of gifts, notes, letters or the like. I hope I make myself very clear, for there is no exception to the rule. One move on your part will mean my reporting you instantly!

  Sincerely,

  VERA CAMERON CADWALLADER

  It was Mrs. Cadwallader’s letter that drove Adam to the Gracie Branch Post Office that Monday morning in June. He knew now that she really meant it. As he filled out the regulation change-of-address slip, he felt sad and sorry that he was forced to do something so under-handed. He wrote down Charity’s name and address in the proper space, and then in the “changed to” space, he wrote Charity’s name again, and “c/o William Bollin,” with Billy’s address following. In about two days, Adam would find Charity’s mail in his box. Carefully, he signed Charity’s name as she wrote it, the tightly-knotted a’s and all. The a’s meant that Charity was extremely secretive. That was another reason Adam had to go to such lengths.

  • • •

  Even though Adam had presented Charity with Billy’s letter about her, Charity did not seem to realize that Billy was really against her! Once during Adam’s calls on the Cadwalladers last week, Charity had even shouted that she loved Billy. Adam had been even more disheartened when Mrs. Cadwallader put in that Billy was a fine person, far more decent than Adam was. Either both of them were gullible beyond belief, or there was something Adam did not know. Adam had mulled it over in his mind throughout the long week end. Perhaps his own behavior had not been exactly exemplary; nonetheless it should be perfectly plain to the Cadwalladers that Adam thought more highly of Charity than did Billy. Adam had even tried to reason with Charity’s mother, explaining to her that he would certainly never write in a letter that Charity was neurotic! In addition, Adam had pointed out that the Cadwalladers knew nothing at all about his character, and the fact that they were so against him from the start meant that Billy had been busy sabotaging Adam in some way.

  Something was wrong somewhere; Adam knew it! An entire family simply did not turn on a young man without reason. He could appreciate the fact that they disapproved of Adam’s appearances when he was not wholly sober — they were not drinking people; but Adam had never made “demonstrations” as Mrs. Cadwallader said he had. He had simply tried to reason with them. Only once had he leaned against the doorbell of their apartment after they had asked him to leave; and that time he had simply wanted to reassure Mr. Cadwallader that he was not interested in Charity because of her money. He had just wanted to say that, then leave, but they had made such an issue of it, even threatening to buzz the elevator and get help from the elevator man. It was shabby treatment all around. Maybe he was not Billy Bollin, he told them, but he was a human being with feelings just the same.

  It surprised Adam that Mrs. Cadwallader had written the letter. She had seemed so nice in the beginning, trying to be polite, telling Adam he was a nice young man, but Charity simply was not interested in him. Adam explained that Charity had not even given him a chance, and a chance was all he wanted. Mrs. Cadwallader had acted as though she was sympathetic to him, but she told Adam there was nothing she could do. She could persuade Charity to see him, Adam pointed out. This she refused to do, and Adam was sure Billy was behind it….

  Charity herself Adam would never figure out. She told Adam that he had embarrassed her at Luchow’s, but when Adam asked her how, she said there was no point in going into it. Adam tried to
exact the evening’s events from her, but she would not even show him the courtesy of sitting down with him and discussing it. What angered Adam most of all, and hurt him most deeply, was that Charity would not even make an appearance the last few times. Mr. Cadwallader said she was afraid of Adam, and Adam actually wept at that, right in front of Charity’s parents. Billy again — he knew it! Anyone who knew Adam knew he would never lift a hand to a girl, never! Nor to any person! What did they think he was! He wept, and Mrs. Cadwallader added insult to injury by saying that Adam needed “help.” Adam knew the kind of help she meant!

  Of course he had apologized in a long letter. He had sent roses twice. When he attempted to send Mrs. Cadwallader a plant, toward the week’s end, the florist told him in a thoroughly unpleasant manner, that the Cadwalladers were not accepting any more flowers from Adam.

  Adam handed the change-of-address slip to the postal clerk.

  “My sister asked me to drop this off,” he said. “My sister’s getting married to Mr. Bollin.”

  “Good for her!” said the clerk with a broad smile. Adam smiled back. The clerk was a nice fellow. There were some nice people left in the world after all.

  On the way out of the post office, Adam rumpled the hair of a small boy in a playful gesture. He hoped the postal clerk noticed him doing it. There would be no reason for the clerk to be suspicious of him, but Adam liked to put in little touches. The clerk would think: pleasant young fellow, happy over his sister’s marriage … He would file the change-of-address slip automatically.

  When Adam did begin receiving Charity’s mail, he was sure there would be a letter from Billy among the others, confirming Adam’s suspicions that Billy was writing lies about Adam. Adam only wanted one scrap of evidence. When he got it, he would simply file another postal slip, re-routing Charity’s mail back. If he was confronted with the same clerk, he would simply say that his sister was not marrying Mr. Bollin after all. He might even embellish the story a bit and say his sister had run off with a chap named Adam Blessing on the eve of her wedding…. Adam smiled and walked out into a cool spring’s end day.

  • • •

  The Mart had been closed all last week. Geismar was furious with Adam, but Adam no longer cared what Geismar thought. Ever since their fight over his not having shown up for Mrs. Auerbach’s service, Adam had made it clear that Geismar worked for him, and that he was not Adam’s priest. Geismar called Adam “cold-blooded” and expressed some doubt at Adam’s intentions to operate The Mart as Mrs. Auerbach had hoped he would. Adam told him that was none of his business.

  Geismar would see what Adam would do with The Mart! Meanwhile, Adam had to concentrate on the present. He still had not located a buyer for the Stammbuch. He had filed for a passport, and he was already making inquiries with the steamship lines and airlines in an attempt to learn if Charity was booked yet. A surprise party, he explained, and while they were perfectly willing to try and help him, so far he had no information as to when she would go, or how.

  Again, a letter to Charity from Billy might disclose details. Adam was only sorry he would never be able to tell Charity how he had found out any of the information that would be revealed, once he got his hands on a letter Billy wrote her. Charity would always believe that one of Billy’s letters had been lost en route. Perhaps by the time she did discover it, she would not care a bit. In between then and now, Adam would convince her somehow that Billy was a very shallow person; that she had been totally wrong about Adam as well. He would follow her to the Orient, if necessary; in a thousand ways he would demonstrate to Charity Cadwallader that he, Adam, was the person she deserved. At some point afterwards, years away — the three of them might all be fast friends. Maybe then Adam would tell both of them about this very day and the trick at the post office. Adam imagined Billy’s face, registering amazement at first, incredulity, then the break-through of laughter, the laughter of bygones-be-bygones. He could almost see Billy’s head tossed back as he laughed, the shock of red hair bobbing, laughing and telling him he never would have guessed, and Charity laughing with them, the three like a happy family.

  • • •

  On Tuesday Adam had another fight with Geismar. Geismar said he rather imagined the State of New York would get everything Mrs. Auerbach had, if Adam did not knuckle down to business. They were going to need character witnesses and affidavits proving Adam’s devotion to both Mrs. Auerbach and the business, said Geismar, and already too many merchants on the block with The Mart were aware it was not open lately. Adam explained that his helper would report at the week’s end; meanwhile Adam made arrangements to go to Washington, D.C. A dealer had expressed interest in the Stammbuch. Adam felt he could get the price he wanted for it, upwards of $30,000.

  • • •

  At four-forty-five Wednesday, Adam returned from his trip. After he got out of the cab and paid the driver, while he waited for his change, he saw King School letting out. He spotted Timothy Schneider immediately. The child was walking by himself, carrying a large briefcase, which he half-dragged along the sidewalk. A red sweater was tied about his waist, and he was dawdling as he walked, touching car fenders and walking with one leg in the gutter, one out. The sun made his glasses look like huge reflectors. On an impulse as he passed the boy, Adam said, “Regardz Timmy Schneider.” He smiled at the boy when he said it, but the boy just stared after him, with his finger in his mouth, frowning. As Adam turned in, he looked back and saw the boy still staring, hanging to a parking-sign pole, the briefcase twirling in his hand. Adam had one second’s thought about whether or not the boy should be loose like that, but he abandoned it when he opened his mailbox with his key. The letter from Billy was there. Mr. William Bollin to Miss Charity Cadwallader. Charity’s address was inked out and Billy’s New York address written to the side.

  • • •

  Adam dropped the rest of his mail into his coat pocket. He noticed a Special Delivery among some bills, and he hoped it was from the man in Washington making the sale definite. He recognized Geismar’s handwriting on one envelope, and he saw a bill from the florist on the corner. There was also a bill from Saks, addressed to Charity and forwarded. Adam let himself in the apartment. He felt no compulsion to drop everything and rip open Billy’s letter; quite the contrary. He wanted to enjoy it fully, savor it comfortably, out in the garden in the cool air. After he made himself a double Scotch on the rocks, he took the letter with him there. He took a swallow of the Scotch and began it:

  My dearest Chary,

  Father was buried and there was a very simple ceremony. I’m sorry I have not had much chance to write since our talk on the phone. Believe me, I was not angry (as you thought) because you called. It was what you told me about Addie, and you going to call on him. I know you were very guilty because of it, and in your usual depression. I know you thought it would hurt me or make me jealous (laughable in view of the fact it was Addie), and I know you realize now that you were wrong … That Chary, you were just involved in another of your neurotic schemes which never have brought you any happiness.

  I was angry on two counts. I was angry because I love you in my way, and I hate to see you hurt yourself. Also, I was angry that you ever brought Addie into the matter. It was my own fault for introducing you to him in the first place. Naturally you thought he was my friend, particularly when I let him stay in my place. The truth, of course, is that Addie is someone I pity. That night we joined him and that girl I thought it might make Addie feel important. I hadn’t seen him in years, and I didn’t want to simply say hello and goodbye. Father’s illness made it imperative for me to have someone to stay in my place immediately. Addie seemed logical enough. He’s harmless and all that…. Normally, though, I doubt that I’d even invite Addie for a drink at my place. Not that’s he an unbearable person … just that he’s always been rather silly. He was a terrible pest in his younger years, with one of these asinine “crushes” on my father. Poor father used to be so embarrassed by him, he would retreat at
the sound of his voice, stay locked in his study until Addie had finally gone. I haven’t kept track of Addie, but I suspect he’s something of a phony, pretends to be more than he is and all that. For example, he told me he was part-owner of that business. Later when he drank with me, the eve of my departure, he told me he had hired some lawyer the YMCA recommended to help probate his partner’s will. It just doesn’t add up that a partner would not have a lawyer of his own, if for no other reason than to legalize the partnership. Also, consulting the YMCA for a lawyer isn’t done by anyone very familiar with business and its ensuing responsibilities. It sounds fishy to me. I don’t care, because who the hell is Addie to me! I just want to set you straight.

  You say he’s wearing my cuff links and my ties, also helping himself to my liquor. Let him. (Except for the cuff links. I know you hate them, but father gave them to me. I’ve already written him asking to have them returned. DON’T WORRY — I DIDN’T MENTION. ANYTHING ABOUT OUR CONVERSATION, OR EVEN THAT I KNEW YOU’D BEEN TO SEE HIM.) Nothing in my place is of great value that he could wear or drink. He’s the petty-thief type, not a real threat to anyone or anything — so I’m not worried about that.

  Enough about Addie. Just steer clear of him is my advice. He won’t bother you; he’s too much of a vegetable. About your plans to arrive here on Sunday the 17th. Chary, I can’t promise you anything, much less that I’ll even be here. This is to say that I don’t want you to come. It will do neither of us any good. Believe me, Chary, it’s better to leave things as they are. You know our problems. You know how miserable we make one another. I can’t face it any more, and I know now nothing will ever improve between us. Chary, I hate to rub things in, but your conduct with Addie — that whole thing, is just more of the same, and for me, the last straw. Addie, of all people, too! Rather a goat! It’s your own business if you want to visit Europe, but count me out. If we happen to be in the same place at the same time, I suppose we’re able to contain ourselves long enough to enjoy a drink together, but beyond that, Chary — no! With father’s death I have increased responsibility and a great deal of business to attend to over here. Of all times, this is not the time for another lesson in how impossible it is for us to be with one another.