Maggie Now

by Betty Smith

emotionally from her father's antagonism and her

  brother's concern that she fell fast asleep in the middle

  of severing all over again the thrill when he had tucked

  her arm into his.

  ~ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT ~

  THE next morning, when Maggie-Now went to the baker's

  for the morning buns, the neighborhood seemed to be in

  a state of excitement. Since President Wilson had

  addressed Congress, wild rumors had been flying around.

  Some said war had already been declared; others, that it

  was merely a question of hours before it would be

  declared. Some body said that Hamburg Avenue was

  going to be renamed Wilson Avenue.

  She passed some men waiting for a streetcar to take

  them to work. One said his wife had kept him up half the

  night urging him to change his name from Schmidt to

  Smith. Mr. Schmidt told the others that the way he looked

  at it he was an American citizen, no matter what his name

  was, but his wife thought no one would give him a job

  with a German name like that. Another man said that as

  soon as the war started the bosses would get down on

  their knees begging men to work no matter what their

  names were.

  Maggie-Now bought a morning paper. She set it next

  her father's coffee cup and told him of the talk of war

  being declared. He merely grunted and told her that just

  the same he was going out that night; war or no war.

  Maggie-Now spent the day in an ecstasy of preparation.

  She pressed the last of her three dresses, a summery,

  flowered print made like her other two. She got out her

  last summer's white pumps and cleaned them. She bought

  a cake of geranium-scented

  [ ~99 ]

 

  soap and washed her hair with it. She rinsed her hair in

  lemon juice and water and sat out in the sun to dry it.

  Later in the day, she took a bath with the scented soap.

  She lathered and rinsed, lathered and rinsed until her skin

  was almost stiff. She dried herself and dusted all over with

  Mennen's Violet Baby Talcum Powder. She braided her

  hair, pinned it up and buffed her fingernails.

  When she had dressed, she went upstairs to see the

  tenant about keeping an eye on Denny in case her father

  carried through his threat to spend the evening with his

  mythical (as MaggieNow firmly believed) woman friend.

  There was an understanding that landlords did not make

  friends with tenants, especially when both occupied the

  same house. It was considered right that a tenant should

  not be burdened with social obligations toward the

  landlord. The tenant should be free to come and go. Also,

  friendship would weaken the landlord's right to request

  prompt payment of rent and his privilege of making it

  uncomfortable for the tenant when he defaulted in paying

  the rent.

  Maggie-Now knew that by asking a favor of the tenant

  she was giving up her right to dun Mrs. Heahly for last

  month's unpaid rent. She was willing to risk this, however,

  rather than possibly miss out on her evening with Claude.

  Maggie-Now felt uncomfortable and turned her head

  away when she saw the look of apprehension on Mrs.

  Heahly's face.

  "Come in," said Mrs. Heahly, not meaning it.

  "For a moment," said Maggie-Now.

  "Sit down?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Somebody looks very nice today," said Mrs. Heahly

  with an ingratiating smile.

  The poor thing's trying to get or my good sid e, thought

  Maggie-Now. She sighed. It's hard to be a landlord.

  "About being late with the rent," said Mrs. Heahly

  brightly. "Never fear. You'll get it. My husband's working

  steady now, but we had some extra expenses, and . . ."

  "I didn't come about that. I came up to ask you for a

  favor."

  "Any time! Any time!" said Mrs. Heahly eagerly. "If I

  can do anything for you . . ."

  ~ 200 1

 

  "I'm going out tonight and my father might step out a

  few minutes while I'm gone. If you could kind of keep an

  eye on my brother . . .t'

  "Glad to, Miss Moore. Glad to."

  "You don't have to do anything. Just in case there's a

  fire or he gets sick."

  "Sure! Sure!" The woman's relief at not being dunned for

  the rent was pathetically obvious.

  Yet, after Maggie-Now left, Mrs. Heahly justified herself.

  I don't mind her father getting it in the neck, the rip, telling

  me to go soak my head the time I told him the toilet was out

  of order. But it's a dirty trick to pull on the girl. She's halfway

  nice. Mrs. Heahly sighed. Ah, well, you can't make a deposit

  077 a new fat and pay rent on the old one at the same time.

  Then there's the cost of moving in the bargain.

  By the time she had it all thought out, she was indignant.

  She figured that the landlord owed her more than she

  owed hirn.

  Maggie-Now had supper ready ahead of time and, of

  course, Pat took this special night to be late. Maggie-Now

  was sure he was doing it on purpose because he knew she

  was going out and he wanted to make her so nervous that

  she wouldn't enjoy herself.

  When he got home, however, she saw that he had a

  reason for being late. He had been to the barber's for a

  shave and haircut. He smelled of bay rum, hair tonic and

  Danderine. Maggie-Now's heart sank.

  He wasn't f ogling then, she thought, when he said he was

  going out. She tossed her head. Well, I wasn't fooling either.

  He smelled the soap and talcum powder and the scent

  of lemon juice coming from her healthy hair. He noticed

  that she was dressed with unusual care.

  So, he thought, I can talk meself deef, dumb and blind

  and she'll trot out all the same.

  "We're getting in the war after all," he announced. He

  went into the bathroom to wash his hands.

  The bathroom was no more than a windowless closet.

  The tub was a shallow scoop of white-painted tin enclosed

  in an oblong box of zinc. Had it had a lid, it would have

  looked like a coffin for a shrimp of a man. The closed

  quarters smelled strongly of scented soap, talcum powder,

  wet hair and wet towels. The

  [ 201 ]

 

  painted walls were still wet from steam. It was hardly the

  place or setting for Sybaritic rites of the bath and the

  voluptuous longings engendered thereby. But Pat feared

  the worst.

  He thought: She must be serious about the bastid whoever

  he is. and she's out to get him. Then Vat's to become of me

  in me old days, he worried, and her married and away and

  one left to die alone in a furnished reborn?

  As they sat down to supper, he said: "Who's been taking

  a bath, now? "

  "Me," said Maggie-Now.

  He fixed her with his eye and spoke slowly with hidden

  meaning: "Don't you think you're goin
g a little too

  far taking a bath in the middle of the day?"

  She saw Denny jerk his head to stare at her, "Eat," she

  said. "The both of you, befort it gets cold."

  They were eating in complete but scented silence when

  a low voice came through the keyhole. "Are you all right

  in there?" asked the voice. Denny looked scared and Pat

  dropped his fork.

  "That's only the lady upstairs minding Denny," she

  whispered. She raised her voice. "Thank you, Mrs. Heahly,

  but we're not gone yet," she said.

  "Excuse me," breathed the voice.

  So she fixed it! She fixed it so I got to go o?lt. But where,

  Pat thought in despair, ala I going to go?

  Maggie-Now bribed I jenny to help her wash the dishes

  by giving him a nickel for a glass shooter. Pat went into

  his room to change from uniform to Sunday suit.

  Maggie-Now went into her room to primp a little. After

  the dishes were done, Denny sat in the kitchen to do his

  homework. It wasn't exactly homework there was no

  school during Holy Week. It was "review work," one

  crayon picture each night to keep the kids out of mischief.

  llaggie-Now and her father came out of their rooms

  simultaneously and went into the front room. I le sat at

  one window, she at the other.

  "We're getting in the war, now," he said.

  "You said that before, Papa."

  "Anything that important you can say twice."

  "That's right," she agreed.

  [ 202 1

 

  He read his paper and she watched for Claude. She

  started to get nervous. "Papa, if you're going out, go."

  "When I get good and ready."

  "Look, Papa. I asked the tenant the favor of keeping an

  eye on Denny. That means I threw away my chance to

  push her about the back rent. So, since it's going to cost,

  take advantage. I want you to go out. I fixed it up."

  Sure she wants me out, he thought, so's she can have him

  in here. He said: "Don't you go putting me out of me own

  home. First I want to see what kind of gink is coming for

  you."

  She had feared he had that in mind. He and Claude

  couldn't meet. They just couldn't! Her father would insult

  him and throw him out and she'd never see Claude again!

  Now it was a quarter to eight. She was so nervous she had

  to do something. She went out into the kitchen to talk to

  Denny.

  "Denny, if you feel like buying your marble now, I'll walk

  to the corner with you."

  The boy was willing. Pat was relieved when he saw them

  leave the house together. Taking the boy with her, he

  thought. I guess she can't be so serious about the man, then.

  Anyways, there won't be no spooning. Not with a wet blanket

  of a boy along.

  He relaxed. He took off his pinching shoes and his

  chafing celluloid collar and removed the brass collar

  button that had already branded his Adam's apple with a

  green circle. He unbuttoned his vest and put his feet up on

  a chair.

  ~ man, he told himself, stretching luxuriously, is a fool

  to go out sporting of a night when he's got a clean, decent

  home to sit in. Ah, yes.

  Then Dermy came back.

  "Where's your sister?" asked Pat.

  "Don' know."

  "Did she go off with a man?"

  "Don' know."

  "What do you know, hah?"

  "I know she went with me to buy my marble and then

  she said I should go home because you ain't going out and

  you would be lonesome."

  "So I ain't going out, she thinks!"

  He buttoned his vest and with many a sigh he put his

  shoes back

  ~ 2 3 ]

 

  on. The tarnishing collar button was put back into place

  and the restricting collar and tie He went for his hat.

  "I'm gonna be here alone," said Denny.

  "I'll tend to that," said Pat. He went out into the hall

  and bellowed up the stairs: ''Hey!"

  Mrs. Heahly opened her door and hollered back down:

  "Hay is for horses."

  "Don't forget to mind me kid," he said, "like me

  daughter told you."

  "Mind your own kid,' she answered.

  "Yeah? And you put that back rent in me hand first

  thing in the morning."

  "Yeah? And you go to hell," she said, and slammed her

  door.

  He walked down to the saloon feeling pleased with

  himself. That'll learn her riot ta get srlotty with "TT]e, he

  told himself smugly.

  Denny wasn't afraid to stay in the house alone. He just

  didn't like it. He went out and sat on the stoop. He told

  himself that he wasn't lonesome, yet he wished some boy

  would come along so they could talk about his new

  marble. A woman came by and asked: "What class are you

  in?"

  "One B." he said.

  "That's nice," she said and went on her way.

  Denny was not an introspective child but he couldn't

  help wondering why people always asked him what class

  he was in, and his sister and father were always asking

  him, how's school, and, did he do his homework Why did

  people think he had no other life than school?

  Gloomily, Pat watched the bartender shave the foam

  from the small beer he'd ordered. With no preamble at

  all, he started in on his troubles.

  "You raise a kid. 170rli like a dog. Do without things

  yourself to give her things. Then she gets big. And just

  when she could be a help pay back the old man what

  happens? She goes loony over the first gink what come.

  her way."

  "That's the way it goes," said the bartender, giving the

  bar a ritual wipe.

  "That all you got to say about it?" asked Pat.

  [ 704 ]

 

  "What do you want for a nickel beer?" said the

  bartender. "The Gettysburg Address?"

  "I had to earn that nickel for that beer, I'll have you

  know," said Pat.

  "Well, you better earn a dime for the same next week.

  Maybe fifteen cents. Beer's going up now that we're

  getting in the war."

  "War or no war, sooner than pay fifteen cents, I'll go

  without me beer," said Pat.

  "You'll go without it pretty soon whether you want to or

  not. This here prohibition is going through someday and

  then, goodby, Charlie. '

  The only other customer further down the bar now

  entered the conversation. "It's a Goddamned shame," he

  said. "That's all I got to say."

  "Another county heard from," sneered Pat, and he tried

  to wither him with a look. Rut the man was at the other

  end of the bar and the saloon visas dimly lighted. In lieu

  of the look, he raised hi, voice.

  "Yeah, and I suppose you went down and enlisted today,

  hey?"

  "Met" called back the stranger. "Why I'm fifty-two if I'm

  a day*!'

  "Who asked you your age?" said Pat.

  "Nobody."

  "Wh
o you calling nobody? ' asked Pat, itching for a fight.

  "Nobody. "

  'Dry up, then," said Pat.

  I feel I know him from someplace, brooded the stranger,

  staring down into his beer.

  Walking home, Pat had the same feeling. I ~nz~st-a

  seen him someplace before, he thought. But where?

  Denny saw his father turn the corner. He scuttled back

  into the house and did his crayon work all over attain so

  he wouldn't have to gfJ to bed right away.

  Claude and Maggie-Now were walking arm in arm. "I'm

  disappointed," he said. "I had hoped to meet your father."

  "I thought it wasn't the right tine...."

  "I see." He solulded offended.

  [ -US ]

 

  "I mean, he's not used to the idea that I . . . I . . ."

  "That I ~ . . you and I . . ." He didn't finish because,

  startlingly enough, she was blushing. "You haven't told me

  much about your father, excepting that he vvas born in

  lkilkenny."

  "There's not much that I know about his childhood.

  Anyhow, I talked too much last night."

  "Oh, no! No, it was wonderful every word of it. I'd like

  to hear it all over again. You see," he said simply, "I never

  had a childhood with parents and a home and relatives

  and stores to go to and penny candies and a sled in

  winter. No, I never had the things you had."

  "Please tell me how it vas," she said impulsively. "I'd

  like to know more about you."

  "There is nothing to sell nothing to know," he said

  harshly.

  "Excuse me," she said humbly.

  His face cleared and he smiled. "Oh, someday, when

  we're old Ed sitting by the fire and it's snowing outside,

  I'll tell you everything."

  "I will wait," she said shyly.

  He looked at her strangely. After a hile he said: "In

  the meantime, I'll take your c hildhood for my own and

  your Brooklyn and all your friends, too, your brother,

  your father, your Aunt I,ottie . . ." Suddenlv, he said:

  "Take me to see her."

  "She lives way over in East New York. Some night next

  week . . . I'd have to send her a card first."

  "I may not be here next week."

  Her heart fell. He dian't mean If, she thought sadly,

  about HIS getting old with each other. I must try izat to

  believe everything he . . . anybody says.

  "Maybe," she said tentatively, "you'd like to see the

  house where my grandfather lived ~ here my mother

  divas brought up?"

  Enthusiastically, he told her that was exactly what he

  wanted to do.

  It hadn't changed much since Magerie-NoNv was a little

  girl. The white swan, now grey from dust, still sat placidly

  in the showcase. Claude visualised the house as it must

  have been in the nineties. He admired the fine,

  vrought-iron grillwork of the basement door and house

  railing.

  "Yes, like New Orleans homes," he said.

  ~ ~6 1

 

  "Then you've been there, too," she murmured.

  The stable plumbing shop was more up-to-date now.

  Showcase windows hid the lines of the stable. A new auto

  truck stood in the yard. The sign over the door, Pheid e)

  Son. Plum/~ers. Day Cal Night, was now framed in

  electric bulbs.

  A young man came out of the store and walked toward

  them. "That's 'And Son,' I believe," whispered Claude.

  The young man smiled at Maggie-Now and said, "Yes?"

  inquiringly, as his father had done twelve years ago.

  Claude answered. To Maggie-Now's distress, he used his

  acadenmic voice on the young man. "May we be permitted

  to browse around? "

  Young Pheid looked at him vith distaste. "HONPS that

  again?" he asked.

  "My grandparents . . . my mother used to live here,"

  explained Maggie-No,~v.

  "No kidding!" said young Pheid, smiling at her.

  "My grandfather owned this property."

  "Kolinski, the notary?"

  "No. His name was Moriarity. Michael Moriarity."

  "Hey, Pop," the young man called back to the store. "Did