Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald UK (Illustrated)

by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Charlotte[hastily]. Oh, he never had one.

  The Detective. Are you sure?

  Charlotte. Oh, yes.

  The Detective [his face falling]. Well, then, he’s not our man, because this fella’s tattoo marks are three years old. Well, that’s a disappointment. That’s a great disappointment for me. I’ve wasted some time over this man. I’d been hoping he’d — ah — do.

  Charlotte[hastily]. Oh, no, he wouldn’t do at all. I’ll have to have the right man or I won’t pay you.

  The Detective. Well, now then, I’ve been following up another clew. Did your husband ever have aphasia?

  Charlotte. Oh, no, he’s always been very healthy. He had some skin trouble about — —

  Doris. He doesn’t mean that, Charlotte. Aphasia’s where a man runs off and commits murder and falls in love with a young girl under another name.

  Charlotte. Oh, no, he’s never done anything like this ever before.

  The Detective. Suppose you tell me exactly what did happen.

  Charlotte. Well, I told you he’d been drinking something that had spirits of nitrogen in it.

  The Detective. Spirits of nitrogen!

  Charlotte. That’s what the man said. It was sympathetic gin that this man had persuaded Jerry into buying.

  The Detective. Yes.

  Charlotte. And he’d been talking all evening about all the things he could have done if I hadn’t stood in his way. He had some examination he’d just taken.

  Doris[explaining]. A psychical examination.

  The Detective [wisely]. I see.

  Charlotte. And my sister came over with the man she’s going to marry, and she came up to see me, and when she came down Jerry was asleep in his chair. Well, I didn’t go down. I wish I had now. And my sister here and her fellow went away. Then I went to bed, and it seems to me I could hear Jerry talking to himself in his sleep all night. I woke up about twelve, and he was saying something loud, and I told him to shut the door, because I could smell that awful sympathetic gin way up-stairs.

  The Detective. Yes.

  Charlotte. And that’s all. When I came down next morning at seven, he was gone.

  The Detective [rising]. Well, Mrs. Frost, if your man can be located, I’m going to locate him.

  Doris. Have you thought of combing the dives?

  The Detective. What?

  Doris. Have you combed the dives? It seems to me that I’d make the rounds of all the dives, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you’d see this man with somebody sitting on his knee.

  The Detective [to Charlotte]. Does he run to that?

  Charlotte[hurriedly]. Oh, no. Oh, no.

  Doris [to Charlotte]. How do you know?

  A brisk knock at the door. Doris opens it eagerly, admitting a small, fat, gray-haired man in a state of great indignation.

  The Detective [to Charlotte]. Is this the pursued?

  The Man [sternly]. You are speaking to Mr. Pushing. I employ or did employ the man who lives in this house.

  Charlotte[wildly]. Oh, where is he?

  Mr. Pushing. That’s what I came here to find out. He hasn’t been at work for a week. I’m going to let him go.

  Doris. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. He may be dead.

  Mr. Pushing. Dead or alive, he’s fired. I had him analyzed. He didn’t have any ambition, and my analyzer gave him nothing but a row of goose-eggs. Bah!

  Charlotte. I don’t care. He’s mine.

  Doris[correcting her]. “Was” mine.

  The Detective. Maybe you could tell me something about his habits in business hours.

  Mr. Pushing. If you’ll come along with me I’ll show you his analyzed record. We’re having it framed. [Contemptuously.] Good morning.

  He goes out. The Detective, after a nod at Charlotte and Doris, follows him.

  Doris. Well, I should think you’d be encouraged.

  Charlotte. Why?

  Doris. Well, that detective found a fella that’s something like him. The same first name, anyway. That shows they’re getting warm.

  Charlotte. Somehow it doesn’t encourage me.

  Uncertain steps on the stairs. Dada appears wearing a battered hat and carrying a book under his arm.

  Doris. Hello, Dada. Where you going?

  Dada [hearing vague words]. Hm.

  Charlotte. He’s going down to the library.

  Dada [in spirited disagreement]. No. You were wrong that time. I’m not going to the park. I’m going to the library.

  Doris[sternly]. Where do you think your son is?

  Dada. The — — ?

  Doris[louder]. Where do you think Jerry is, by this time?

  Dada [to Charlotte]. Didn’t you tell me he was away?

  Charlotte nods drearily.

  Dada [placidly]. Hasn’t come back yet?

  Doris. No. We’re having the dives combed.

  Dada. Well, don’t worry. I remember I ran away from home once. It was in 1846. I wanted to go to Philadelphia and see the Zoo. I tried to get home, but they took me and locked me up.

  Doris [to Charlotte]. Inthe monkey house, I bet.

  Dada. [He missed this, thank God!] Yes, that’s the only time I ever ran away.

  Doris. But this is a more serious thing, Dada.

  Dada. Boys will be boys… Well, it looks like a nice day.

  Charlotte[to Doris]. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t even understand what it’s all about. When the detective searched his bedroom he thought it was the plumber.

  Doris. He understands. Sure you do, don’t you, Dada? You understand what it’s all about, don’t you, Dada?

  Dada [aggravatingly]. The — — ?

  Charlotte. Oh, let him go. He makes me nervous.

  Doris. Maybe he could think out some place where Jerry’s gone. He’s supposed to think so much.

  Dada. Well, good afternoon. I think I’ll go down to the library. [Dada goes out by the front door.]

  Doris. Listen, Charlotte. I was going to tell you about Joseph — to get your mind off yourself, don’t you remember?

  Charlotte. Yes.

  Doris. I’ve gotten sort of tired of him. Honestly, I ought to get myself psychoanalyzed.

  Charlotte. Why don’t you throw him over then? You ought to know how by this time.

  Doris. Of course, having been unlucky in your own marriageable experience, you aren’t in a position to judge what I should do.

  Charlotte. Do you love him?

  Doris. Well, not — not especially.

  Charlotte. Then throw him over.

  Doris. I would — except for one thing. You see, it’d be sort of hard.

  Charlotte. No, it wouldn’t.

  Doris. Yes, it would. It wouldn’t be any cinch.

  Charlotte. Why?

  Doris. Well, you see I’ve been married to him for three days.

  Charlotte[astounded]. What!

  Doris. That isn’t very long, but you see in marriage every day counts.

  Charlotte. Well, then, you can’t throw him over.

  Doris. It’s next to impossible, I guess.

  Charlotte. Was it a secret marriage?

  Doris. Yes, there was nobody there but I and Joseph and the fella that did it. And I’m still living at home. You see, this girl that Joe was keeping waiting to see whether he was going to marry me or not, got impatient, and said she couldn’t be kept waiting any longer. It made her sort of nervous. She couldn’t eat her meals.

  Charlotte. So you got married. And now you’re tired of him.

  Doris. No, not exactly that, but it just sort of makes me uncomfortable, Charlotte, to know that you can’t throw over the man you’ve got without causing a lot of talk. Suppose he took to drink or something. You know everybody can’t get rid of their husbands as easy as you did.

  Charlotte. One husband was always enough for me.

  Doris. One may be all right for you, Charlotte, because you’re a monographist, but supposing Rodolph Valentino, or the Prince of Wales, or John D. Rockefeller was to walk in here a
nd say: “Doris, I’ve worshipped you from a distance on account of the picture that you sent to the fame and fortune contest of the movie magazine, that got left out by accident or lost or something. Will you marry me?” What would you say, Charlotte?

  Charlotte. I’d say no. I’d say, give me back Jerry.

  Doris. Would you let having a husband stand in the way of your life’s happiness? I tell you I wouldn’t. I’d say to Joe: “You run up to the store and buy a bag of peanuts and come back in about twenty years.” I would, Charlotte. If I could marry Douglas Fairbanks I’d get rid of Joseph in some peaceful way if I could — but if I couldn’t I’d give him some glass cough-drops without a minute’s hesitation.

  Charlotte[horrified]. Doris!

  Doris. And I told Joseph so, too. This marriage business is all right for narrow-minded people, but I like to be where I can throw over a fella when it gets to be necessary.

  Charlotte. If you had Jerry you wouldn’t feel that way.

  Doris. Why, can’t you see, Charlotte, that’s the way Jerry must have felt?

  Charlotte, overcome, rises to go.

  And, Charlotte, I don’t want to depress you, but if he is — if it turns out that he is in the mor — in that place — I know where you can get some simply stunning mourning for — —

  Charlotte begins to weep.

  Why, what’s the matter? I just thought it’d cheer you up to know you could get it cheap. You’ll have to watch your money, you know.

  Charlotte hurries from the room.

  Doris. I wonder what’s the matter with her.

  Joseph Fish [outside]. Oh, Doris!

  Doris goes to the window.

  Doris. How did you know I was here?

  Fish [outside]. They told me at your house. Can I come in?

  Doris. Yes, but don’t holler around so. Haven’t you got any respect for the missing?

  Fish comes in.

  Fish. Doris, I’m awfully sorry about — —

  Doris. Oh, Joseph, haven’t you got any sense? Sitting there last night everything was perfect, and just when I was feeling sentimental you began talking about embalming — in the twilight. And I was just about to take out my removable bridge… .

  Fish. I’m sorry… Have they found your sister’s husband yet?

  Doris. No.

  Fish. Has he gone away permanently? Or for good?

  Doris. We don’t know. We’re having the dives combed. Listen, has any one in your family ever had aphasia?

  Fish. What’s that?

  Doris. Where you go off and fall in love with girls and don’t know what you’re doing.

  Fish. I think my uncle had that.

  Doris. Sort of dazed?

  Fish. Well, sort of. When there was any women around he got sort of dazed.

  Doris[thoughtfully]. I wonder if you could inherit a thing from your uncle. [She removes her gum secretly.] What are you chewing, Joe?

  Fish. Oh, just an old piece of something I found in my mouth.

  Doris. It’s gum. I thought I asked you not to chew gum. It doesn’t look clean-cut for a man to be chewing gum. You haven’t got any sense of what’s nice, Joseph. See here, suppose I was at a reception and went up to Mrs. Astor or Mrs. Vanderbilt or somebody, like this: [She replaces her own gum in her mouth — she needs it for her imitation.] How do you do, Mrs. Vanderbilt? [Chew, chew] What do you think she’d say? Do you think she’d stand it? Not for a minute.

  Fish. Well, when I start going with Mrs. Vanderbilt will be plenty of time to stop.

  From outside is heard the sound of a metallic whistle, a melodious call in C major.

  What’s that?

  Doris. Don’t ask me.

  Fish. It’s pretty. It must be some kind of bird.

  The whistle is repeated. It is nearer.

  There it is again.

  Doris goes to the window.

  Doris. It’s only the postman.

  Fish. I never heard a postman with a whistle like that.

  Doris. He must be a new one on this beat. That’s too bad. The old one used to give me my mail wherever I met him, even if he was four or five blocks from my house.

  The sound again — just outside the door now.

  I’ll let him in.

  She goes to the door and opens it. The figure of the new postman is outlined in the doorway against the morning sky. It is Jerry Frost.

  But for a particular reason neither Doris nor Joseph Fish recognize him. He is utterly changed. In the gray uniform his once flabby figure appears firm, erect — even defiant. His chin is up — the office stoop has gone. When he speaks his voice is full of confidence, with perhaps a touch of scorn at the conglomerate weaknesses of humanity.

  Jerry. Good morning. Would you like some mail?

  Doris[taken somewhat aback]. Why, sure. I guess so.

  Jerry. It’s a nice morning out. You two ought to be out walking.

  Fish [blankly]. Huh?

  Jerry. Is this number 2127? If it is, I’ve got a good-looking lot of mail for you.

  Doris[with growing interest]. What do you mean, a good looking lot of mail?

  Jerry. What do I mean? Why, I mean it’s got variety, of course. [Rummaging in his bag.] I got eight letters for you.

  Doris. Say, you’re new on this beat, aren’t you?

  Jerry. Yes, I’m new but I’m good. [He produces a handful of letters.] I’m the best one they ever had.

  Fish. How do you know? Did they tell you?

  Jerry. No, I just feel it. I know my job. I can give any other mailman stamps and post-cards and beat him with bundles. I’m just naturally good. I don’t know why.

  Doris. I never heard of a mailman being good.

  Jerry. They’re mostly all good. Some professions anybody can get into them, like business or politics for instance, but you take postmen — they’re like angels, they sort of pick ‘em out. [Witheringly.] They not only pick ‘em out — they select’em.

  Fish [fascinated]. And you’re the best one.

  Jerry [modestly]. Yes, I’m the best one they ever had. [He looks over the letters.] Now here’s what I call a clever ad. Delivered a lot of these this morning. Children like ‘em, you know. They’re from the carpet company.

  Fish. Let’s see it. [He takes the ad eagerly.]

  Jerry. Isn’t that a nice little thing? And I got two bills for you here. I’ll hide those, though. Still, maybe you want to clear up all your accounts. Some people like to get bills. The old lady next door wanted to get hers. I gave her three and you’d think they were checks. Anyways, these two don’t look very big, from the outside, anyhow. But of course you can’t tell from the outside.

  Doris. Let me see them.

  Fish. Let me see them too.

  They squabble mildly over the bills.

  Jerry. The thing is for everybody in the house to write what they guess is the amount of the bill on the outside of the envelope, and then when you open the envelope the one who guessed the closest has to pay the bill.

  Fish. Or he could get a prize.

  Jerry. Something like that. [He winks at Doris.] And here’s a couple of post-cards. They’re sort of pretty ones. This one’s — the Union Station at Buffalo.

  Fish. Let me see it.

  Jerry. And this one says Xmas greetings. It’s four months late. [To Doris.] I guess these are for you.

  Doris. No, they’re for my sister.

  Jerry. Well, I haven’t read what’s written on the back. I never do. I hope it’s good news.

  Doris[inspecting the backs]. No, they’re from an aunt or something. Anything else?

  Jerry. Yes, here’s one more. I think it’s one of the neatest letters I’ve had this morning. Now, isn’t that a cute letter? I call that a cute letter. [He weighs it in his hand and smells it.] Smell it.

  Doris. It does smell good. It’s a perfume ad.

  Fish. Say, that sure does smell good.

  Jerry. Well, I’ve done pretty well by you this morning. Maybe you got a letter for me.
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