U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [172]
"Where you from?" asked Charley.
"What's that to you?"
"You're from up North; I can tel by the way you talk."
"Sure. I'm from Iowa, but I'l never go back there no more . . . It's a hel of life, bo, and don't you forget
. . . 'Women of pleasure' my foot. I used to think I was a classy dame up home and then I woke up one morning and found I was nothing but a goddam whore."
"Ever been to New York?"
She shook her head. "It ain't such a bad life if you keep away from drink and the pimps," she said thoughtful y.
"I guess I'l shove off for New York right after Mardi Gras. I can't seem to find me a master in this man's town."
" Mardi Gras ain't so much if you're broke."
"Wel , I came down here to see it and I guess I'd better see it." It was dawn when he left her. She came downstairs
with him. He kissed her and told her he'd give her the ten bucks if she got his hat and coat back for him and she said to come around to her place that evening about six, but not to go back to the " Tripoli" because that greaser was a bad egg and would be laying for him.
The streets of old stucco houses inset with lacy iron balconies were brimful of blue mist. A few mulatto women in bandanas were moving around in the courtyards. In the market old colored men were laying out fruit and
-401-green vegetables. When he got back to his flop the Panama woman was out on the gal ery outside his room holding out a banana and cal ing "Ven, Pol y . . . Ven, Pol y," in a little squeaky voice. The parrot sat on the edge of the tiled roof cocking a glassy eye at her and chuckling softly. "Me here al night," said the Panama woman with a tearful smile.
"Pol y no quiere come." Charley climbed up by the shutter and tried to grab the parrot but the parrot hitched away sideways up to the ridge of the roof and al Charley did was bring a tile down on his head. "No quiere come," said the Panama woman sadly. Charley grinned at her and went into his room, where he dropped on the bed and fel asleep. During Mardi Gras Charley walked round town til
his feet were sore. There were crowds everywhere and lights and floats and parades and bands and girls running round in fancy dress. He picked up plenty of girls but as soon as they found he was flat they dropped him. He was spending his money as slowly as he could. When he got hungry he'd drop into a bar and drink a glass of beer and eat as much free lunch as he dared.
The day after Mardi Gras the crowds began to thin
The day after Mardi Gras the crowds began to thin
out, and Charley didn't have any money for beer. He walked round feeling hungry and miserable; the smel of molasses and the absinthe smel from bars in the French Quarter in the heavy damp air made him feel sick. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't have the gumption to start off walking or hitchhiking again. He went to the Western Union and tried to wire Jim col ect, but the guy said they wouldn't take a wire asking for money col ect.
The Panama woman threw him out when he couldn't
pay for another week in advance and there he was walking down Esplanade Avenue with Grassi's accordion on one arm and his little newspaper bundle of clothes under the other. He walked down the levee and sat down in a
-402-grassy place in the sun and thought for a long time. It was either throwing himself in the river or enlisting in the army. Then he suddenly thought of the accordion. An accordion was worth a lot of money. He left his bundle of clothes under some planks and walked around to al the hockshops he could find with the accordion, but they wouldn't give him more than fifteen bucks for it any-where. By the time he'd been round to al the hockshops and musicstores it was dark and everything had closed. He stumbled along the pavement feeling sick and dopy from hunger. At the corner of Canal and Rampart he stopped. Singing