The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [258]
“And my aunt, Tommy Doyle’s mother, she seems to feel just the same way, Studs. All she does, these days, is to sit at home and brood. She keeps saying, every time I see her, how there were such good people around Fifty-eighth Street, and she will hardly even leave the house, except to go to church. She just mopes around all day. And my brother Joe, who collects rent on her buildings on South Park, he can’t hardly get a red cent out of the niggers living in it. Half of the time he doesn’t even try because what’s the use?”
“Damn it, you know, I can’t get over seeing poor Shrimp, Lord have mercy on his soul. I can’t get over the snaky feeling I got looking at his corpse,” Stan Simonsky interrupted.
“When I die, I want to go out like a light,” Studs said, trying, by speaking of death, to rid himself of the clinging fear of it.
“Me, too, Studs, only I want to have the priest first.”
“All the boys from our gang who were Catholic had the priest. They were lucky at least in that,” Les said.
“Me, now, all I wish is that this damn train ride was over,” McCarthy said.
Studs, again not listening closely, had a sudden vision of a screeching collision, the cars smashing, turning over and dumping off the tracks and down the siding, the passengers, himself included, being pinned under the steel, moaning, crying and begging for help, gritting their teeth to be brave and bear their injuries, or crying forth in misery and cowardice, many of them dying before they could be rescued, or before, anyway, those who were Catholic had a priest. He saw himself dying without the last rites, his insides smashed and hanging out, his skull fractured. He went pale, and looked aside so they wouldn’t notice him. He heard Muggsy still complaining that he wanted the train ride over, and he wished that he could be as lighthearted now as Muggsy seemed to be. He wanted to act and talk and be like the old Studs Lonigan.
“What’s the matter, Monk, don’t travel agree with you, or are you getting hot for your old lady?” Stan asked.
“Tickle Joe, Les,” Muggsy said, pointing at Thomas, whose head had dropped forward in sleep.
“Let the poor guy sleep. With losing his job, and that rheumatism that has been bothering him these last couple of years, he’s had one hell of a time,” Kelly said.
“Say, Red, remember the time we tried to enlist?” Studs said with a forced smile, still the prey to disturbing thoughts.
“How could I ever forget it?” Red said, and the others laughed.
“And the time we went to Burnham, and tried to make goofy Curley lose his manhood,” McCarthy said.
“And when the joint was raided, I jumped out of a second story window and escaped, even if I did sprain my ankle,” Studs said nonchalantly, hoping that they would remember and speak of some of his past exploits.
“Those were the days,” said Les.
“And just think, we’re almost all of the old gang that’s left,” Muggsy said mournfully.
“Hey, Muggsy, you’re a married man with a kid. Does your wife know about your past?” Studs grinned, and they laughed.
“That’s all right. It never pays to tell a woman too much,” Muggsy replied.
“Don’t you wish you were single, Muggsy?” Studs said, wanting to keep up the kidding, because it made him forget many things.
“And I ain’t sorry none, and I’m glad that I got my kid. She’s beginning to talk now, and she says daddy just like she meant it.”
Studs saw Stan’s lips twitch, and his face cloud while Red gave Muggsy the razzberry. He wished that the subject hadn’t been brought up. Stan was a good guy, and the poor bastard had gotten it plenty tough, no work, and a crippled baby.
“How about yourself, Kelly, when are you going to begin populating the world with little Red Kellys?” Stan asked, forcing himself back into the laughing fellowship.
“Sure, Red, don’t tell us you ain’t doing your duty,” McCarthy kidded.
“I ain’t saying nothing, boys, and I’m just letting nature take its course,” Red grinned.
“If Les, there,