From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [215]
“Sure. The works.”
“You can have the drink anyway. You dont have to fuck to get it. Are you sure you want to go?”
“Sure I’m sure. The works. The whole works,” he said.
“Because I wont be much good,” Maureen said. “Some muffdiver got my gun a whal ago and I aint worth a damn now. Thats why I been takin a break.”
“To hell with it. I want the works.”
What had been difficult with Lorene was easy this time, with Maureen. Theres irony for you, Prewitt. Make a note on that. They even had time for another drink before Petunia knocked. Make a note on that too.
“Okay!” Maureen bawled. “Comin out! Come on, Babyface, we got to shove.”
Prew got out three more dollars and threw them on the bed. “There. Theres the fucking money. Let’s go again.”
Maureen stared at him half drunkenly. “Go again? You dont want to go again.”
“Sure I want to go again. And after that, go again. Aint my money as good as the next guy’s? As long as I pay, whats it to you who you lay?”
Maureen picked up the bills. “Its nothing to me.”
“All right then.”
She leaned down and got the hidden bottle out. “Lets have a drink first.”
“Okay.”
She watched him drink. “Listen, Babyface. Goin again aint gunna do you any good. Not with what you got. You just be wasting money.” She put the money in his hand and closed his fingers over it. “You take this money and go to the nearest bar and you get yourself drunkern hell. That’s all’l do you any good.”
“Gettin drunk wont do me any good.”
“Yes it will. When I get what you got, that how I always fix it. But goin again wont do you any good. I know.”
“Who the hell’re you? Dorothy Dix? I aint asking you for no advice.”
“No. But I’m givin it to you, goddam you, and shut up. I’m doin the talking. You can knock yourself out if you want, but you aint going to kill me too. Fuckin wont help what you got. I’ve tried that way myself, in my time.”
“How do you know what I’ve got? You cant even guess at what I’ve got.”
“I know what you got. You got the same thing I get myself, only I get it about two or three times every week fifty-two weeks a year year in year out. Dont try to snow me, Babyface. This is Maureen.”
“Okay, you’re so smart. You tell me.”
“I am telling you. All you got is a feeling you’re locked up in a box thats two sizes too small for you and theres no air in it and you’re suffocatin, and all the time outside the box you hear the whole world walking around laughin and having a big, big time. Thats all you got.” She looked at him.
“Okay,” Prew said meekly. “You talk.”
“Okay then. Hell, I get what you got all the time, and the ony thing’ll fix it is to get drunkern hell. I’ve experimented, see? What you got to do now is to remember that it aint nobody’s fault. Its the system. Nobody’s to blame.”
“Thats a pretty hard thing to remember.”
“Sure. Too hard. Thats why you got to get good and drunk. Because if you dont you’ll never remember it, see?”
“Okay. You win.” He began to dress.
“Now you’re talkin sense.”
Petunia knocked again. “Miz Kipfer say you git a move on in ere, Mo-reen. You overdue, heah?”
“Take off, you bag of pus,” Maureen bawled. “You just watch yourself. This is a seconds.”
“You better keep this three then,” Prew said.
“You keep it, Babyface. You need it worse than me. At least right now, anyway. You can give it back some other time. All I want you to do is get out and go get drunk and quit givin me the blues.”
“Okay. I’m going to get drunk,” he said. “But on my way out I’m going to say hello to Mrs Kipfer. I’m going to tell her what I think of respectable whores’ madams. The mealy-mouthed old bitch.”
“No you aint. You just leave Mrs Kipfer alone, see? She’ll have the goddamn MPs on you quickern you can bat your eye. You want to spend a month in the Shafter stockade? You just go get drunk.”
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. But listen, what the hell can you do? Aint there nothing you can ever do?”
“No,” Maureen said. “Not ever. Because nobody’s to blame. Its the system. Thats what you got to remember, that nobody’s to blame.”