On the Road - Jack Kerouac [127]
Charity sat in her corner, knitting, watching us all with her birdy eyes. It was her job to chaperon, it was up to her to see nobody swore. Babe sat giggling on the couch. Tim Gray, Stan Shephard, and I sprawled around in chairs. Poor Tom suffered the tortures. He got up, yawned, and said, “Well, another day another dollar, good night,” and disappeared upstairs. Babe had no use whatever for him as a lover. She was in love with Tim Gray; he wriggled like an eel out of her grasp. We were sitting around like this on a sunny afternoon toward suppertime when Dean pulled up in front in his jalopy and jumped out in a tweed suit with vest and watch chain.
“Hup! hup!” I heard out on the street. He was with Roy Johnson, who’d just returned from Frisco with his wife Dorothy and was living in Denver again. So were Dunkel and Galatea Dunkel, and Tom Snark. Everybody was in Denver again. I went out on the porch. “Well, m‘boy,” said Dean, sticking out his big hand, “I see everything is all right on this end of the stick. Hello hello hello,” he said to everybody. “Oh yes, Tim Gray, Stan Shephard, howd’y‘do!” We introduced him to Charity. “Oh yass, howd’y‘do. This is m’friend Roy Johnson here, was so kind as to accompany me, harrumph! egad! kaff! kaff! Major Hoople, sir,” he said, sticking out his hand to Tom, who stared at him. “Yass, yass. Well, Sal old man, what’s the story, when do we take off for Mexico? Tomorrow afternoon? Fine, fine. Ahem! And now, Sal, I have exactly sixteen minutes to make it to Ed Dunkel’s house, where I am about to recover my old railroad watch which I can pawn on Larimer Street before closing time, meanwhile buzzing very quickly and as thoroughly as time allows to see if my old man by chance may be in Jiggs’ Buffet or some of the other bars and then I have an appointment with the barber Doll always told me to patronize and I have not myself changed over the years and continue with that policy—kaff! kaff! At six o‘clock sharp!—sharp, hear me?—I want you to be right here where I’ll come buzzing by to get you for one quick run to Roy Johnson’s house, play Gillespie and assorted bop records, an hour of relaxation prior to any kind of further evening you and Tim and Stan and Babe may have planned for tonight irrespective of my arrival which incidentally was exactly forty-five minutes ago in my old thirty-seven Ford which you see parked out there, I made it together with a long pause in Kansas City seeing my cousin, not Sam Brady but the younger one ...” And saying all these things, he was busily changing from his suitcoat to T-shirt in the living room alcove just out of sight of everyone and transferring his watch to another pair of pants that he got out of the same old battered trunk.
“And Inez?” I said. “What happened in New York?”
“Officially, Sal, this trip is to get a Mexican divorce, cheaper and quicker than any kind. I’ve Camille’s agreement at last and everything is straight, everything is fine, everything is lovely and we know that we are now not worried about a single thing, don’t we, Sal?”
Well, okay, I’m always ready to follow Dean, so we all bustled to the new set of plans and arranged a big night, and it was an unforgettable night. There was a party at Ed Dunkel’s brother’s house. Two of his other brothers are bus-drivers. They sat there in awe of everything that went on. There was a lovely spread on the table, cake and drinks. Ed Dunkel looked happy and prosperous. “Well, are you all set with Galatea now?