The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [398]
“Bill, darling, I love you so.”
Studs, because of his heart attack, had the feeling of being divorced from life and from the things that other people did. He was unsure of himself, and in his weakness asked himself would he be alive tomorrow, next week? He looked at people on the sidewalk, thinking that he didn’t know how long he would still be a part of all this. He saw himself as if Studs Lonigan was already limping with one foot over the grave. But no, he knew that he wouldn’t die. He knew that. He knew that he would pull through everything. Still, he could not shake away the feeling that he was cut off from life as if he was only half alive himself. He could not get it out of his head that soon he might die, and then all these strangers on Seventy-first Street would still be able to go out walking on sunny Sunday afternoons. He stopped, concerned about how he really felt. There was just a little weakness. These thoughts were only like a bad dream. He took Catherine’s arm firmly, as if he were masterful and confident in himself.
“I’m all right now.”
“Honest?”
“Uh huh!”
“We were having such a nice time at the beach, and I was so happy. And I still am. I know you’re going to take care of yourself, and I believe in you.”
A gray Stutz whirled toward them.
“Say, there’s a beaut of a car. Some day maybe we’ll be able to get one like it,” he said.
She smiled consolingly at him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I
Where would he go to look for a job? And what would he say? And on such a lousy day.
Studs glanced out the window of the moving Illinois Central suburban train and saw the rain beating down on Seventy-first Street. He turned over the pages of the newspaper, and his eyes hit on the column of advice to the lovelorn. Should the girl, who signed herself Terribly Puzzled, go out with a young man to whom she had never been properly introduced? Jesus, she had a tough problem on her mind, he thought ironically. If the gal asked him, he’d just tell her to find out how much dough the lad had.
In just two weeks now, he would be married. And who ever would have thought that Studs Lonigan would be up the creek the way he was when he was getting married? He had to get a job, too, because even if the old man could let him work every day, there were the doctor’s orders. With his heart, he couldn’t be climbing ladders, and he had to get different work. And where would he get it? All the dough he had was four hundred and sixty dollars out of the two thousand he’d sunken. The brain of Solomon Imbray had guaranteed the stock. Wait till he saw that rat, Ike Dugan. Wait! Lucky he’d been able to get six bucks a share, and if he had waited until Tuesday, instead of selling on Monday, he’d only have gotten five a share. But now where was he going to get a job?
With determination he looked to the classified advertisements.
HAT SALESMAN—STEADY & SAT. XTRA.
Expd. only. gd. refs. Abraham and Solomon.
Experienced. That let him out. Might, though, try bulling them. Experienced store workers. Nothing there. Commission salesmen. On that he and Catherine could eat air.
Executives and Managers
Could he find something here?
SHOE BUYER and manager for women’s, men’s and children’s shoes of quality. This position has great possibilities and we want the best man available. State age, nationality and full business history. For large west side department store. Address Box Xk 49.
Nothing doing again.
Professions And Trades
Engineer. No soap. Engineer Mechanic. No soap again. Fur designer.
MAINTENANCE MAN—MUST BE EXPERIENCED on starch mogul machine. American. Protestant. South Side candy factory.
That guy must be an A. P. A. Protestant only. He’d like to run a business and fix ‘em. Put in ads Catholic only. Dirty A. P. A.’s. Masseur. Nope. Physician. No.
POLICE DUTY
TEN MEN FOR NEARBY TOWN. ONLY THOSE WITH CITY POLICE EXPERIENCE OR LEGIONAIRES NEED APPLY. MUST FURNISH REFERENCE. MEMBERS OF UN-IONS NOT WANTED. APPLY RM. 216...
He couldn’t do police duty. Had