Serenade - James M. Cain [30]
We sat there some more, and I wondered why I didn't feel like a heel. She had called it on me all right, and I had certainly busted up her run of luck with plenty to spare. But I didn't feel like a heel. I was in a spot, but my face wasn't red. Then it hit me between the eyes: I wasn't going to run out on her.
"Juana."
"Yes?"
"Listen to me now. I've got some things to say."
"Please, say nothing."
"In the first place, you were right when you said I was going away, and I did lie to you. While I was out, pretending to look the town over, I arranged passage to the Estados Unidos del Norte, on a boat. I was to leave at twelve o'clock."
"I know you lie, when you go out. Yes."
"All right, I lied. You want to hear the rest?"
She didn't answer for a long time. But you could always tell when something was going on inside of her, because her breath would stop for a two beat, and then go on. She turned her head to me once, and then looked away. "Yes."
"When I went up to the hotel, I intended to take you out to dinner, sit around a while, then drift out to the caballeros, and not come back. Then you started off with him, and I knew I wasn't going to let you go, and it wasn't only that I didn't like him. I wanted you myself, and I wasn't going to let him have you, or anybody have you."
"But why?"
"I'll get to that. I'm not done yet. Now I'm going away. I told you I used to be a singer. I used to be a very good singer, one of the best in the world, and I made a lot of money, and I will again. But I can't do anything in Mexico. I'm going back to my own country, the Estados Unidos del Norte. Now, here's what I'm getting at. Do you want to come with me?"
"Is that very big country?"
"Much bigger than Mexico."
"How you go?"
"We have the car, and you still have a little money. In a little while, after things quiet down, we'll slip through the town and go as far as we can before daylight. Then tomorrow night, we'll start out again, and with luck we'll make Mexico City. We'll lay low another day, and the next night we'll be in Monterey. One more night and we're at Laredo, and I'll figure a way to get you across. Once we're in my country, we're all right."
"That is impossible."
"Why?"
"They know the auto. They catch us, sure."
I knew that was right, even before she said it. In the United States, once you're across a state line, you could go quite a while without being caught. But down there, the state line doesn't mean much. Those guys with rifles, they're federal troops, and with just a car now and then up that road, there wasn't a chance they would miss us, night time, day time, or any other time. "...In bus, perhaps."
"What was that, Juana?"
"Ride little way, hide auto. Then in morning, take bus. Maybe they no catch."
"All right, we'll do that."
"But why? Why you no go alone?"
"All right, now we come to the big why. You like me?"
"Yes, much."
"I like you."
I sat looking at her, wondering why I couldn't go the whole hog, tell her I loved her and be done with it. Then I remembered how many times I had sung those words, in three or four different languages, how phoney they sounded, and how much trouble I had in putting them across. Then it came to me that I hated them, not for what they said, but for what they didn't say. They told it all except what you felt in your bones, your belly, and all those other places. They said you might die for a woman, but missed how hungry you could get for her, just to be near her, just to know she was around. "...I could make it stronger than that, Juana. Maybe I don't have to."
"They catch us, sure. They kill us."
"You willing to take a chance?"
It was a long time before she said anything, and before she did she took my hand and pressed it. Then she looked up, and I knew that whatever it was going to be, there was no fooling around about it. It was the works..."Yes."
A little tingle went over me, but what I said was dumb enough. "Yes, what?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you think it's about time for us to pick out something for you to call me? I can't very well keep on