Ironweed (1984 Pulitzer Prize) - William Kennedy [15]
“Where you been hidin’?” he asked her.
“A fat lot you care where anybody is or isn’t. I could be dead in the street three times over and you wouldn’t know a thing about it.”
“How the hell could I when you walk off like a crazy woman, yellin’ and stompin’.”
“Who wouldn’t be crazy around you, spending every penny we get. You go out of your mind, Francis.”
“I got some money.”
“How much?”
“Six bucks.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“I worked all the damn day in the cemetery, fillin’ up graves. Worked hard.”
“Francis, you did?”
“I mean all day.”
“That’s wonderful. And you’re sober. And you’re eating.”
“Ain’t drinkin’ no wine either. I ain’t even smokin’.”
“Oh that’s so lovely. I’m very proud of my good boy.”
Francis scarfed up the soup, and Helen smiled and sipped the last of her coffee. More than half the men were gone from table now, Rudy still eating with a partial mind across from Francis. Pee Wee and his plangently compassionate volunteers picked up dishes and carried them to the kitchen. The preacher finished his coffee and strode over to Francis.
“Glad to see you staying straight,” the preacher said.
“Okay,” said Francis.
“And how are you, little lady?” he asked Helen.
“I’m perfectly delightful,” Helen said.
“I believe I’ve got a job for you if you want it, Francis,” the preacher said.
“I worked today up at the cemetery.”
“Splendid.”
“Shovelin’ dirt ain’t my idea of that much of a job.”
“Maybe this one is better. Old Rosskam the ragman came here today looking for a helper. I’ve sent him men from time to time and I thought of you. If you’re serious about quitting the hooch you might put a decent penny together.”
“Ragman,” Francis said. “Doin’ what, exactly?”
“Going house to house on the wagon. Rosskam himself buys the rags and bottles, old metal, junk, papers, no garbage. Carts it himself too, but he’s getting on and needs another strong back.”
“Where’s he at?”
“Green Street, below the bridge.”
“I’ll go see him and I ‘preciate it. Tell you what else I’d ‘preciate’s a pair of socks, if you can spare ‘em. Ones I got are all rotted out.”
“What size?”
“Tens. But I’ll take nines, or twelves.”
“I’ll get you some tens. And keep up the good work, Franny. Nice to see you’re doing well too, little lady.”
“I’m doing very well,” Helen said. “Very exceptionally well.” When he walked away she said: “He says it’s nice I’m doing well. I’m doing just fine, and I don’t need him to tell me I’m doing well.”
“Don’t fight him,” Francis said. “He’s givin’ me some socks.”
“We gonna get them jugs?” Rudy asked Francis. “Go somewheres and get a flop?”
“Jugs?” said Helen.
“That’s what I said this mornin’,” Francis said. “No, no jugs.”
“With six dollars we could get a room and get our suitcase back,” Helen said.
“I can’t spend all six,” Francis said. “I gotta give some to the lawyer. I figure I’ll give him a deuce. After all, he got me the job and I owe him fifty.”
“Where do you plan to sleep?” Helen asked.
“Where’d you sleep last night?”
“I found a place.”
“Finny’s car?”
“No, not Finny’s car. I won’t stay there anymore, you know that. I will absolutely not stay in that car another night.”
“Then where’d you go?”
“Where did you sleep?”
“I slept in the weeds,” Francis said.
“Well I found a bed.”
“Where, goddamn it, where?”
“Up at Jack’s.”
“I thought you didn’t like Jack anymore, or Clara either.”
“They’re not my favorite people, but they gave me a bed when I needed one.”
“Somethin’ to be said for that,” Francis said.
Pee Wee came over with a second cup of coffee and sat across from Helen. Pee Wee was bald and fat and chewed cigars all day long without lighting them. He had cut hair in his younger days, but when his wife cleaned out their bank account, poisoned Pee Wee’s dog, and ran away with the barber whom Pee Wee, by dint of hard work and superior tonsorial talent, had put of of business, Pee Wee started drinking and wound up on the bum. Yet he carried his comb and scissors everywhere to prove his talent was not just a bum’s