Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [91]
“Yeah!” said Danny, curious.
“She likes gang-shags,” said Davey.
“Yeah!” said Danny, more curious.
“Sure,” said Davey.
“How they doin’ it?” asked Davey.
“They shot craps for turns, and each guy takes his turn.”
“In front of everybody?”
“By yourself!”
“Gee, you think I could go there some time?”
Davey scorned the punk.
“You’re too young. You ain’t got the stuff of a man.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Well, I do.”
“Were you there?” asked Danny.
“Oh, yeh,” said Davey casually.
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“I didn’t want to. I don’t like bitches,” said Davey.
“Who stayed?”
“Oh, Studs, Weary, Tommy, Paulie, Red, Hennessey, a lot of guys.”
“Yeh?”
Davey sniped a butt, and stuck it in the corner of his mouth.
They talked of fighting, and Davey told of all the scraps the Fifty-eighth Street gang had, and what a great bunch it was. Danny asked if Davey could lick Studs, and Davey said he wasn’t afraid of anybody ... but then the guys from Fifty-eighth Street stuck together and fought other guys.
After he left Danny, Davey sniped another butt. He thought of Elaine and Ellen. He became proud that he was a Jew. He recalled Chedar, not the beatings, the ugly smells and the dirty rabbi, but the beautiful sing-songed Hebrew, the beautiful-sad history of the Jews. He was proud. The Irish, goddamn them, didn’t have anything like that. He hated the Irish. He vowed he’d blow the place, and go on the bum, see the world, make his own way, come back somebody, and leave them all lump it. He thought of Iris. He remembered how white she had been. The dirty . . .
He went home to supper, and the old man started chewing the rag.
After supper, he slunk in a corner and read The Lady of the Lake. He read and reread the line:
And Snowdoun’s Knight is Scotland’s King
It set his imagination ablaze, and Davey Cohen, huddled in a corner of a dirty room in back of the disordered tailor-shop, became Snowdoun’s Knight and Scotland’s King.
II
After being at Iris’, the guys hung around the corner. They started getting hungry, so they split up and went home for supper. Studs, Weary and Paulie walked together.
“Jesus, it woulda been funny if the old lady’d found us,” said Studs.
“It would have been a big joke, all right,” said Weary.
“It would have been funny, all right,” Studs said. “And our old men and old ladies would have found out. It would have been a big joke, all right.”
“Well, my old man and old lady can’t do nothin’ to me. I left home on ’em once, and they’re scared I’ll do it again. But my old lady would sure get one on. Whew! She’d pray, and sprinkle holy water all over the house, and I’d get drenched with it, and she’d pray and have masses said for my soul, and she might even try to have me exorcised,” Weary said.
“Well, there’d have been a stink that I wouldn’t have wanted to get mixed in,” Studs said.
“But, hell, what’s a guy gonna do? If he doesn’t get a girl now and then, well, he’s liable to put himself in the nut house,” said Paulie.
“Yes, I guess a guy does. I guess it’s a sin, but . . .” said Studs, shrugging his shoulders.
“But, gee, I don’t see why it’s a sin if a fellow has to do it. I think the priests and sisters tell us this because they think we’re a little too young. Maybe they don’t mean it is a sin if you’re a little older,” said Paulie.
“Maybe,” said Studs, who was having a time with his conscience.
“Well, anyway, they don’t make machines any better than Iris,” said Paulie.
Lucy Scanlan passed them. She smiled sweetly, and they tipped their hats.
“You know, Lucy’s nice-looking and she’s got pretty good legs,” said Weary.
“You know, guys like us are too rotten to go around with girls like her, or your sister, Studs, or Frank’s sister, Fran,” said Paulie.
“They’re goddamn different from Iris, the dirty . . .” said Weary.
They talked about the thing that made some girls, generally