U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [430]
-204-"Yes, he was a poor old sil y. . . . You must think I'm a horrid mercenary little bitch. I don't see why you'd want to marry me if you thought I was like that. Honestly, Charley, what I'd love more than anything in the world would be to get out and make my own living. I hate this plushhorse existence." He grabbed her to him. She pushed him away. "It's my dress, darling, yes, that costs money, not me. . . . Now you go home and go to bed like a good boy. You look al tired out."
When he got down to the street, he found the snow
had drifted in over the seat of the car. The motor would barely turn over. No way of getting her to start. He cal ed his garage to send somebody to start the car. Since he was in the phonebooth he might as wel cal up Mrs. Darling.
"What a dreadful night, dearie. Wel , since it's Mr. Char-ley, maybe we can fix something up but it's dreadful y short notice and the end of the week too. Wel . . . in about an hour." Charley walked up and down in the snow in front of the apartmenthouse waiting for them to come round from the garage. The black angry bile was stil rising in him. When they final y came and got her started he let the mechanic take her back to the garage. Then he walked around to a speak he knew.
The streets were empty. Dry snow swished in his face as he went down the steps to the basement door. The bar was ful of men and girls halftight and bel owing and tit-tering. Charley felt like wringing their goddam necks. He drank off four whiskies one after another and went around to Mrs. Darling's. Going up in the elevator he began to feel tight. He gave the elevatorboy a dol ar and caught out of the corner of his eye the black boy's happy surprised grin when he shoved the' bil into his pocket. Once inside he let out a whoop. "Now, Mr. Charley," said the colored girl in starched cap and apron who had opened the door,
-205-"you know the missis don't like no noise . . . and you're such a civilspoken young gentleman."
"Hel o, dearie." He hardly looked at the girl. "Put out the light," he said. "Remember your name's Doris. Go in the bathroom and take your clothes off and don't forget to put on lipstick, plenty lipstick." He switched off the light and tore off his clothes. In the dark it was hard to get the studs out of his boiled shirt. He grabbed the boiled shirt with both hands and ripped out the buttonholes.
"Now come in here, goddam you. I love you, you bitch Doris." The girl was trembling. When he grabbed her to him she burst out crying.
He had to get some liquor for the girl to cheer her up and that started him off again. Next day he woke up late feeling too lousy to go out to the plant, he didn't want to go out, al he wanted to do was drink so he hung around al day drinking gin and bitters in Mrs. Darling's drapery-choked parlor. In the afternoon Mrs. Darling came in and played Russian bank with him and told him about how an operasinger had ruined her life, and wanted to get him to taper off on beer. That evening he got her to cal up the same girl again. When she came he tried to explain to her that he wasn't crazy. He woke up alone in the bed feeling sober and disgusted.
The Askews were at breakfast when he got home Sun-day morning. The little girls were lying on the floor read-ing the funny papers. There were Sunday papers on al the chairs. Joe was sitting in his bathrobe smoking a cigar over his last cup of coffee. "Just in time for a nice cup of fresh coffee," he said. "That must have been quite a din-nerparty," said Grace, giggling. "I got in on a little poker-game," growled Charley. When he sat down his overcoat opened and they saw his torn shirtfront. "I'd say it was quite a pokergame," said Joe. "Everything was lousy," said Charley. "I'l go and wash my face." When he came back in his bathrobe and slippers he
-206-began to feel better. Grace got him some country sausage and hot cornbread.
"Wel , I've heard about these Park Avenue parties before but never one that lasted two days."
"Oh, lay off, Grace."
"Say, Charley, did you read that article