U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [472]
"It is regrettable," he said, "that I experience only bachelor establishments . . . but I wish you hereafter every contentment."
What hurt Charley most was that when he wrote Joe
Askew asking him to be his bestman, he wired back only one word: "No." The wedding was at the Emmanuel Baptist Church.
Charley wore a cutaway and new black shoes that pinched
-302-his toes. He kept trying to remember not to put his hand up to his tie. Nat Benton came on from New York to be bestman and was a great help. While they were waiting in the vestry Nat pul ed a flask out of his pants pocket and tried to get Charley to take a drink. "You look kinda green around the gil s, Charley." Charley shook his head and made a gesture with his thumb in the direction from which the organ music was coming.
"Are you sure you got the ring?" Nat grinned and took a drink himself. He cleared his throat. "Wel , Charley, you ought to con-gratulate me for picking a winner. . . . If I could spot the market like I can spot a likely youngster I'd be in the money right now." Charley was so nervous he stammered. "Did . . . don't worry, Nat, I'l take care of you." They both laughed and felt better. An usher was already beckoning wildly at them from the vestry door.
Gladys in so many satinwhite fril s and the lace veil and the orangeblossoms, with a little boy in white satin hold-ing up her train, looked like somebody Charley had never seen before. They both said "I wil " rather loud without looking at each other. At the reception afterwards there was no liquor in the punch on account of the Wheatleys. Charley felt halfchoked with the smel of the flowers and of women's furs and with trying to say something to al the overdressed old ladies he was introduced to, who al said the same thing about what a beautiful wedding. He'd just broken away to go upstairs to change his clothes when he saw Ol ie Taylor, very tight, trip on a Persian rug in the hal and measure his length at the feet of Mrs. Wheat-ley who'd just come out of the receptionroom looking very pale and weepy in lavender and orchids. Charley kept right on upstairs. In spite of the wedding's being dry, Nat and Farrel had certainly had something, because their eyes were shin-ing and there was a moist look round their mouths when
-303-they came into the room where Charley was changing into a brown suit for traveling.
"Lucky bastards," he said.
"Where did you get it? . . . Gosh, you might have kept Ol ie Taylor out."
"He's gone," said Nat. They added in chorus, "We at-tend to everything."
"Gosh," said Charley, "I was just thinkin' it's a good thing I sent my brother in Minneapolis and his gang in-vitations too late for 'em to get here. I can just see my old Uncle Vogel runnin' around pinchin' the dowagers in the seat and cryin' hochheit."
"It's too bad about Ol ie," said Nat. "He's one of the besthearted fel ers in the world."
"Poor old Ol ie," echoed Charley. "He's lost his grip." There was a knock on the door. It was Gladys, her little face pale and goldenhaired and wonderful ooking in the middle of an enormous chinchil a col ar. "Charley, we've got to go. You naughty boy, I don't believe you've looked at the presents yet."
She led them into an upstairs sittingroorn stacked with glassware and silver table articles and flowers and smoking-sets and toiletsets and cocktailshakers until it looked like a departmentstore. "Aren't they sweet?" she said. "Never saw anythin' like it in my life," said Charley. They saw some guests coming in at the other end and ran out into the back hal again. "How many detectives have they got?" asked Charley. "Four," said Gladys.
"Wel , now," said Charley. "We vamoose."
"Wel , it's time for us to retire," chorused Farrel and Nat suddenly doubled up laughing.
"Or may we kiss the bride?"
"Check," said Charley. "Thank al the ushers for me." Gladys fluttered her hand. "You are dears . . . go away now."
Charley tried to hug her to him but she pushed him
-304-away. "Daddy's got al the bags out the kitchen door. . . . Oh, let's