The Stubborn Season

by Lauren B. Davis

  “Go to sleep, Kitten,” she said. “Go to sleep.” Just like any mother to her child. Just like any mother at all.

  Irene tucked her hand beneath her cheek and closed her eyes and was asleep before she could think one more puzzled thought.

  For some time Margaret sat and watched the sweep of bodies all around her. She listened to the swell and release of breath from so many sets of lungs, not unlike the whisper of ocean waves. Why did it seem so easy to be here, when it ought to be so hard? She lay her palm flat on the grass beside her, ruffled it as if it were hair. It felt brittle and sharp after so long a dry spell. A waft of tobacco smoke floated past her nose and she glanced to see where it came from. A man about her age sat not far away, his legs bent and his arms resting on his knees. A handmade cigarette dangled from between his fingers and his head was bowed low. He looked thoroughly beaten, thought Margaret. The seam of his shirt was torn at the shoulder. He was in need of a haircut and a shave. Poor man. He needs someone to take care of him.

  I am in a crowd of people. I am floating in a sea of people. The words kept surfacing from the pool of her consciousness like her own reflected face. I am outside, outside, outside … Why had she stayed inside for so long? It made no sense to her now. These people were not a threat to her. But couldn’t they be? Couldn’t they turn and begin to slather and snap at you at any moment? Aren’t they just waiting for you to let down your guard? Margaret closed her eyes and rubbed her ears. Go away. I am trying to be better. I am smart and can learn.

  She looked at Irene. Had she said that aloud? The girl didn’t move, slept on with her mouth open slightly and a frown on her forehead. She always seemed to have that small crouched frown, thought Margaret.

  Look at me. Look at me. Here I am under a starry sky.

  Margaret didn’t want to sleep. She was filled with a delicious sensation of belonging. A woman, just a woman sitting with her back up against a tree. With other people.

  It wasn’t so complicated. As long as we are together, as long as Irene is at my side, I will be all right, thought Margaret as she drifted off. I will be all right.

  29

  “Listen to what I’m telling you,” said Mike. “Nazi planes raid the Basque town of Guernica. It’s an appalling massacre. The Ciudad de Barcelona, on its way from Marseille to Barcelona, is torpedoed by an Italian submarine. The ship’s carrying volunteers to fight in Spain, among them, I might add, a number of Canadians. You have to consider that an act of war.”

  “I’m just saying that I think there’s a place for diplomacy,” said Ebbie. “For heaven’s sake, you men are always so ready to go off and shoot at something.”

  “An ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the good of his country,” said Mike. “Henry Wooton, 1604.”

  “Walk softly and carry a big stick. Teddy Roosevelt,” said David. “Some time more recent.”

  Ebbie, Mike, David and Irene sat in a booth at Murray’s Restaurant, finishing up the last of their coffee and apple pie. The heat wave had evaporated into a sweet, warm summer, and when Ebbie and Mike had come by the shop at closing time and invited her to join them for a walk, she hadn’t been able to resist. Her mother had been better, Irene thought, since the night they had slept out in the park, but still, Margaret was none too pleased when she’d called. “Fine, then, do as you please. You always do.” Her mother would not go back to the park, no matter how much Irene pleaded, although she did say Irene could go without her. Irene had stayed with her mother, though, as they both knew she would. But still, there had been improvements. Her mother had accompanied her to the market once, and once she had walked with her to the end of the street and back. She sometimes even sat out alone in the garden, or on the porch.

  And David had come too. He was going to see a boxing match later, between Sammy Luftspring and Frankie Genovese, and had some time to kill.

  “Fascist bastards,” he now said, “sinking a volunteer ship. They were sitting ducks.”

  “I read they were in the water for hours, drowning. They sang that song, what is it, the Communist song?” said Irene.

  “The Internationale,” said David. “And our prime minister, dear old Mackenzie King, goes to meet with Hitler and says he was ‘charmed.’ Charmed! Can you believe that? Both him and Chamberlain—Jew haters.”

  “Bad time for Jews in Germany,” said Mike. “And getting worse in the rest of Europe, too.”

  “So, you think this is new? This isn’t new. Let me tell you. The Cossacks with their boots to the head, the door bashed in, the raped women. The Russians. The Poles. The Germans. Can’t buy land, can’t live in this town, can’t live in that. My great-uncle was shot to death in front of his wife, and her two babies bayoneted right after him. My uncle, my father’s own brother, just a baby, was tossed down a well and drowned!”

  “We’re all lucky to live in Canada, no matter how hard it is at the moment,” said Mike into silence after David’s speech.

  “You think it’s so different here? Can’t work behind a counter at Eaton’s. Can’t buy a cottage in the Muskokas.” David slapped the table with each new can’t. “Can’t be a doctor in a hospital. Can’t study law at the University of Toronto. You’ve seen the signs on the park benches, at the Sunnybrook Pool—’No Jews or Dogs’? Yeah. It’s bad for Jews, all right. Worse if you’re Negro. And if you’re an Indian? Forget about it!”

  People turned to look.

  “What’re you looking at? Jews not allowed in here either?”

  A woman tut-tutted.

  “People are only looking at you because you’re shouting,” said Irene, although she wasn’t sure, now that she said it, whether this was true or not.

  “So maybe I have good reason to shout.”

  “Yes, maybe you do. But why are you shouting at us?”

  “Because I’m pissed off, is why!”

  “Sorry, David. Didn’t mean to say anything to offend you,” said Mike, looking downcast.

  “Usually it’s me who says the wrong thing,” said Ebbie.

  “It’s early yet,” said Mike, and she punched him.

  David said, “No, it’s me. You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m sorry. Maybe I’m not used to being with all you heathens.” He laughed softly. “It’s hard to sit by and do nothing when I know what’s going on over there. Could be my relatives, see? And I know it’s going to get worse. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to stay out of it.”

  Things would get worse. David was right. And maybe he would leave. And then what would Irene do? It hadn’t been long, but she’d come to depend on him. She wasn’t sure she liked that. When people took care of you, they wanted a great deal in return, and then it was hard to tell just who was taking care of whom. She didn’t want any more of that.

  But was it so simple? There were moments, watching him as he joked with the customers, or the way he tugged his ear when he was nervous, that her feelings for David were confusing. Sometimes it was his face that formed in her dreams, and his laughter, and his hands, and she woke, as she did now from her reverie, to the sound of his voice.

  “Listen, folks, why don’t you come to the fight with me?” said David. Maybe being the minority in a crowd would do them some good. The place was bound to be filled with Jews and Italians.

  “I’ve got to get back,” said Irene.

  “I think I might like to see the match,” said Mike. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked at Ebbie. “What do you think, honey?”

  “Sounds exciting. I’m game.” Ebbie grinned and clapped her hands. “Oh, Irene, it’ll be fun. Come on.”

  She blushed and said nothing. She hated that her cheeks went red.

  David watched her. “I know your mum was upset when you called earlier, but if she’s mad already … Besides, she’s a bit better these days, right? This is a great fight, two great fighters. And Sammy, he’s a kinda hero. Him and Baby Yak could’ve gone to the Olympics in Berlin, but they didn’t go on account of Hitle
r. They wrote a letter to the papers and said so. I got a copy of it. Sammy would’ve won a gold medal, but he wouldn’t go to a country that was, like he said, ‘treating his brothers and sisters worse than dogs.’ You have to see this guy. He’s going to flatten Genovese. Come on. Think of it as an educational experience.”

  “I’d like to.” It was a little dangerous, and felt exciting. She’d never done anything like this.

  Ebbie put a hand on hers. “Your mother will be all right, Irene. She has to get used to being on her own. I mean, you can’t be with her forever, now, can you? She might surprise you by being tougher than you think.”

  “I don’t know … Yes, all right! I’ll come.”

  “There you go!” said Ebbie.

  “Good for you!” said Mike.

  “So, let’s go. We got to get tickets,” said David.

  As they approached Maple Leaf Gardens they could see the crowd milling about. Thousands of people, mostly Jewish and Italian, yelling good-natured taunts at each other and making side bets.

  “Geez,” said David, scanning the crowd. “I knew it was going to be big.”

  “It’s sooo exciting!” squealed Ebbie.

  The arena was crowded and noisy with men yelling and talking and smoking cigarettes and big cigars. The smoke was already thick in the air, even though the match wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes. As they walked in, David greeted a man here, a man there, shaking hands and slapping guys on the back.

  “Irene, Mike, Ebbie, I want you to meet my pals. This is Lenny, Ben and Simon.”

  “Nice ta meet ya,” said Lenny, with a toothpick in his mouth.

  “How you doing?” said Simon.

  “Some crowd, eh?” said Ben.

  “He’s gonna kill him,” said Lenny.

  “Genovese doesn’t stand a chance,” said David.

  “Genovese’s a bum,” said Ben.

  “Hey, you watch who you call a bum!” said a man standing behind them. “Frankie’s the Italian Bomber. He gonna cream you guy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, words, words,” said Lenny and he spit on the floor without removing his toothpick.

  David checked the tickets and led them to their seats. Irene thought that if the ceiling had been any lower they would have choked to death from the smoke. Below them was the brightly lit boxing ring. Men milled around it, talking to each other and taking notes. A table ran along one side, where four men sat, one with a round bell in front of him.

  Irene looked around. The men had their hats off or tilted back on their heads, their faces shiny in the warm air. Coats were off, ties were undone. A few women punctuated the mostly male crowd, and they were either one of two types: beautiful, satin-clad girls on the arms of well-dressed, important-looking men or tough-looking women, older mostly, wearing ill-fitting dresses.

  “Get a load of her,” said Ebbie and pointed. A woman in the next row down had her hair in a complicated bun and wore a man’s suit.

  “Well, I never,” said Irene.

  “I’ll bet she has,” said Ebbie.

  As for the men, there were all types. Young and old, well-heeled and well-mended. Elegant men in evening dress and men in overalls. Irene felt breathless.

  “So, you okay?” David asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “Looks like all the market and Little Italy’s here, too,” said David. “Ain’t it grand!”

  In a few minutes a man climbed into the ring amidst a roar of applause and hooting. He held his hand up and a microphone was lowered from the ceiling.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight’s fight is a single bout, welterweight division, fifteen-rounder. And … in this corner … Frankie Genovese, weighing in at 145 pounds.” Into the ring stepped a young man in red trunks. He danced about the ring, punching the air in front of him. “And in this corner … Sammy Luftspring, weighing in at 142 pounds.” This one wore a Star of David on his boxing shorts. David jumped up and cheered, his face lit with a big grin. Irene, Ebbie and Mike stood up too.

  The two men met in the middle of the ring, where the referee, wearing a striped shirt, gave them their instructions.

  David leaned over to Irene. “Okay, so this is what you need to know. Sammy’s a counter-puncher. This means he only hits when the other guy hits, takes advantage of his mistakes, doesn’t tire himself out trying to flail away. But Genovese’s no bum, don’t listen to what those guys said. He’s about the most experienced boxer in all Toronto. This is going to be some fight.”

  Sammy Luftspring surprised everyone by changing tactics for the fight. From the opening bell he came out throwing punches. He tagged Frankie Genovese a couple of good hard whacks. And the crowd went wild. In the fifth round Genovese dropped to one knee, but didn’t go down. In the sixth, he went through the ropes.

  In the seventh, David yelled, “What the hell’s Sammy doing?”

  Luftspring seemed to lose energy. He became careful, cautious. Throwing fewer punches.

  “Has something changed?” said Mike.

  “You got eyes? Come on, Sammy, take the bum out! Don’t quit now!” he yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. “He’s never gone more than six rounds before, he always knocks the guy out early. Maybe he’s going to run out of gas.”

  Genovese waded into his opponent, landing uppercuts that looked like they were taking the other man’s head off. Luftspring lay against the ropes and took body blows.

  “Ah, shit,” said David. The Italians in the crowd went nuts. After what seemed forever, the bell rang and each man went back to his corner.

  “That’s Doc Cooke talking to Sammy. He’s a great trainer. He’ll snap him out of it, if anybody can.”

  “It doesn’t look good, does it?” said Ebbie.

  “Not if you’re rooting for Jews,” said David.

  The bell rang for the eighth round, and Sammy Luftspring came back into the centre of the ring with renewed energy. He pummelled Genovese.

  Irene and Ebbie hid their faces, peeking now and then. It was bloody and it was terrible, but it was thrilling at the same time.

  Genovese couldn’t come out for the tenth round, so Sammy Luftspring won by a technical knockout.

  “Sammy’s the king!” shouted David, along with thousands of other fans. Even some of the Italians were cheering. It had been a hell of a fight. “Sammy’s a god!”

  The man next to David hugged him. “Mazeltov!” he said, and David hugged him back and said, “Mazeltov!” Then he turned to Irene and hugged her too.

  As they followed the flow of people outside the arena, David’s friends approached them.

  “What did I tell ya?” said Lenny. “Hell of a fight!”

  “We should live so long to see another like that,” said Ben. “You gonna come down to the Grill? We said we’d meet up with Jimmy-the-Book down there.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sure,” said David. “So, I’m going to see Irene home and then I’ll join you guys.”

  “Don’t take too long or we’ll drink up all your winnings, pal.”

  Irene and David said good night to Ebbie and Mike, who wanted to know when the next match would be and would he promise to take them.

  “Crazed fans I turned you into,” he said, laughing, and they waved good night.

  David and Irene walked slowly. It wasn’t even a five-minute walk back to Irene’s and she didn’t want to rush. She felt as though she’d fought the fight herself, her hands shaking with excitement and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She’d never, never, sleep tonight.

  “So, you liked it?”

  “Yes! And no. I mean, it’s so violent. Savage.”

  “So, you liked it,” he repeated, grinning.

  “Yes. I liked it. I don’t know if I’d want to go again. But I liked it very much. It was exciting. And I liked your friends.”

  “They’re good guys.”

  “How do you know them?”

  “Here and there.”

  “You’re so mysterious all the time, David. You’re go
ing to make me think you’re a criminal or something.”

  “No, nothing like that, not really. Although I can’t say the same about some of the boys. Lenny, for example, he did a stretch up at Kingston.”

  “Really? What for?” She found this didn’t frighten her, as she supposed it should.

  “He and his family got really down on their luck. Back in ‘32 when things were even worse than now. Lost his job, couldn’t find another. He had a couple of kids to feed. He robbed a gas station up on the Danforth. Somebody saw him crawling through a window and called the cops. He didn’t get three blocks. Did two years.”

  “That’s awful. I mean, to have to steal because your kids are hungry.”

  “Are you kidding me? The jails are filled with guys down on their luck, Irene. This Depression’s been good for the prison business.”

  “What happened to his wife and kids?”

  “I’ll tell you what happened. While he was in stir his wife got sick. Real sick, and she couldn’t work. She’d been a maid for some rich lady in Forest Hill who fired her when she started coughing so bad. She probably had TB. She had to trudge through snow to stand in line for hours at the hospital’s ‘relief’ entrance, then the doctors gave her a prescription for a medicine she couldn’t afford. She died in a room on Augusta, and the kids were in the room with a dead body for two days before anyone came in to check. The boy, he was two, he died not long after, and the little girl, who was three, she was taken away by the social workers. When Lenny got out they wouldn’t tell him where, because of his record. He never got over it.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. That’s just terrible.”

  “Yeah, ain’t it, though.”

  They walked a little ways in silence.

  “So, how do you know him? Have you been in jail?”

  “No, I haven’t been in jail. Well, just for vagrancy, right? But that’s nothing. A week here or there in the city lockup, maybe. But that’s a question you shouldn’t ask some of the guys. You sure want to know an awful lot of stuff all of a sudden.” He shook his head and grinned at her. “All right, all right. I know them from some organizations I belong to. Clubs, like.”