by Betty Smith
and it would be like having my own babies. And 1'.l have
the brother I love with me. And Tessie! I co7lid teach her
how to sew.... And Annie would c0777e over often,, and . .
. Oh, it Ivould be just too wonderf7l1.
She said: "No, Denny! I'm not going to let you do it."
"What? "
"Don't Ibe such a damned fool!" It was the first time
he'd ever heard his sister use a curse word. "Now look
here! Annie can take care of herself. She's got Albie for
the time being. And I'm around if Annie has trouble."
"But what about you. "
"I'll manage. I've always managed. The rooms will be
rented again. I'll find something to do. Maybe I'll rent out
the whole house or close it up and go to Atlantic City or
somewhere to find work. I've never been outside of
Brooklyn except twice
1 43'1
when I went to Boston with lilama and when I wetlt tic
Manhattan with a boy many years ago. Maybe I'd like to
see other places."
"You mean you don't want us?" he said, aghast.
"Yes, I do want you and your family. But it's not good
for me to want that. And it's not good for you to give it."
"But Jessie wants . . .'
"Tessie's a wonderful girl. And she's a smart girl, too.
She has one beautiful fault, though. The fault of being
very young. Don't ask her what she wants, tell her what
you want. Tell her how wonderful she i`; how lucky you
are to have her. Tell her you couldn't live without her,
and then tell her that you are all going to move out to tile
new place because it is the best thin;, for all of you. Hind
move out there right away."
Denny got up, put his hands in his pockets, grinned and
started to swagger around the room. Then he went to
Maggie-Now and gave her a big hug.
"If Tessie makes a fuss, tell her I'm tired of looking
after people. I want to live m,N own life for a while. And
tell her if she gets out of her mothers way, maybe Mr.
Van Clees might have a chance with Annie."
After Denny had left, 1~] aggie-Now sat in the kitchen
and wept. What am I going to do? she asked herself. What
am I going to do alone here?
She sat by the front wmdow. Maybe I can make believe,
she thought, that he left the way he always did in the spring.
And that he'll come back in the fall like always. How I cried,
those first years when he left! I'd pra v f or the time when
he'd never go away again; when he'd be with me always. But
would it have been the same? The man 1 loved was a mall
who left me each spring to come back in the winter to make
me feel like a bride again. That was the man I loved. If he
had stayed with me always, would he have been the same
man?
She thought over again the things Claude had told her
about his wanderings and his search. What was it he had
said about the rightness of being a father once he knew?
And when he had come home this last time, he had
known! He had known!
14~7 1
A small ecstasy started to grow. But it faded when she
remembered how he had said: "If we were younger . . ."
And yet . . . And yet! The small ecstasy wouldn't die.
She prayed:
Holy Mary, Mother IF God, I beseech thee to let me hope
. . . let me hope a little while . . .
The clock in the kitchen sounded seven times. The bird
in the cage ran a trill. The little Siamese cat jumped off
the lounge and made no noise when he landed on the
floor. He walked out to the kitchen on silent, velvet feet.
Maggie-Now knew he would jump up on the kitchen table
and sit there and lash his tail and fix his sleepy, baleful
eyes on the caged canary. She smiled.
Seven o'clock, she thought, and there's still some light in
the sky. The days are getting longer and soon spring grill
come again.
~ CHAPTER SIXTY-FT VE A
PAT and Mick Mack had just finished the ample breakfast
served to them by the neat and taut widow
"Man dear," she said lo Pat, "it's a wonderful day for
beating the carpets Just wonderful!" She handed Pat two
rattan carpet beaters. "And I'm sure Mr. Mack will be
delighted to help you."
Mick Mack carried the carpet out into the yard. Pat
followed, carrying the carpet bearers. "Get the damn dusty
thing up on the washline," instructed Pat. Mick black
started to struggle with the carpet. There was a soft wind
blowing.
"Hey, IIick Mack!"
"And what is it, Pathrick?"
"You feel that wind? A kin-nooky . . . what did the
bastid call it? Oh, yeah! Chinook!"
"So long," said Mick lack.
"Where you going?"
"I just said that means 'so long' in Eskimo. Did you not,
yourself, tell me so?"
L 434
"To hell -with the carpet. This is the day. Come on."
They went back into the house. "Listen, O'Crawley," said
Par to his wife, "we can't beat your carpet today."
"And why not, man, dear?"
"Because I got to bury me son-in-law."
"But he's been dead three weeks now."
"It's time he was buried then." He grinned in delight
when he saw his wife's shocked expression.
"Perhaps Mr. Mack will do the carpet while you're gone?"
"He's got to go with me. I got to have a witness."
Pat carried the urn holding the ashes in a paper bag,.
They beat their way by trolley and subway over to
Manhattan.
"Where you going to bury him?" asked Mick Mack.
"Off-a some high place where there is wind and birds."
"Off-a the Woolworth Building?"
"You damn fool!" said Pat coldly.
They got on the little boat that would take them to
Bedloe's Island. Pat was astonished that they had to pay
for the boat ride. "You pay," he instructed Mick Mack. "I
left me money in me other suit."
Mick Mack knew that Pat didn't have another suit, but
he paid all the same.
"You going to bury him f tom of T-a the boat? " asked
Mick Mack.
"No. From the top of tide Stature of Liberty. We're
going to go up in the torch and do it."
"But I'm afraid of heighths," said Mick Mack.
"A fine time to wait and tell me."
"But you didn't tell me we was going here."
"Why do you always have to argue?" asked Pat.
The elevator took them as far as the pedestal, then they
had to climb the winding stairway. Mick Mack started to
lag behind. Pat looked back. The little man was pale and
his hand was pressed to his heart. He seemed to have
trouble getting his breath.
Pat felt a stab of pity. I never saw before how old he's
getting, thought Pat. And he don't look so strong, either. He
went back to Mick Mack.
"Me old friend," he said, " 'tis shamed I am, making you
climb up here and you with no stren'th a-tall. Do you let
~ 4] ~ J
To Pat's surprise, he saw that Mick Mack was crying. "Is
it a bad pain you have, me friend?" he asked tenderly.
"No. It's because of the soft way you spoke to me; the
kindness of your words. It puts a strangeness on you. I
don't know you no more, you black-hearted stranger."
Pat lost his temper. "That's what a man gets trying to
be decent to the likes of you. Here! Carry this, you
damned fool!" He thrust the urn into Mick Mack's hands.
"Making me do all the work, Come on, now! And let me
hear no more complaining out of you."
The little man looked up at Pat and beamed.
In those days, people were allowed to go up into the
torch. Pat and Hick Mack slowly made their tortuous way
up through the arm. The torch could hold twelve people
but Pat and Mick Mack were the only persons there at the
time.
The wind was terrific. They had to hold on to their hats
and the wind tore the paper bag off the urn.
"Give me that," yelled Pat angrily against the wind,
"before you drop it." Mick Mack gave him the urn.
Hundreds of gulls flew around the head of Miss Liberty,
and wheeled and banked and swooped and screamed.
"Look at all them pigeons!" said Mick Mack.
"They ain't pigeons," hollered Pat.
"What are they then? " screamed back the little fellow.
"Whatever they are, they ain't pigeons! Take your hat off!"
"What? "
"Take your hat off! And hold mine." The wind made the
hair stand up on their bared heads.
Pat lowered his head ;md spoke silently to the urn.
Mick Mack thought he was saying a private prayer for the
dead. Mick Mack lowered his eyes and said his own
prayer. Pat wasn't praying, he was telling his daughter's
husband good-by.
You wanted to be buried off a high place, Claude, and this
is the highest I can get. And you wanted to go out over the
sea. Well, here's the whole ocean. And there is birds
here the kind you like. And may God rest your soul.
He removed the cover from the urn. Before he could
scatter the ashes, the wind scooped most of them out of
the urn. Pat had an instant of terror. The gulls, the
screams, the wind and the
~ 436 ~
infinity of sky and sea, and he was such a tiny dot.
There is things I don't ,'~no~v, he thought, and God
forgive me all me sins.
Mick Mack vvas screaming. "Say something! " he
screamed. "For the love of God say something! Don't let
him go without a word! Say something!''
"What? " hollered Pat.
"Good-by! Good-by! " shouted llick Slack. He w aved
the hand that held Pat's hat. The wind caught Pat's hat
and blew it out to sea.
It was more than Pat could stand. He took the urn,
which still held some ol the ashes, anal with all his
strength he hurled it into the wind. He shook his fist at
the slay and the sea and the wind and the gulls.
"I'll bury youse all!" sh ~utcd Patrick Dennis Moore.
t4''1
