David Goodis - The Moon in the Gutter

He shook his head. Her eyes were blank, puzzled.

She was lighting a cigarette. “You sure you don’t want one?”

He breathed hard. “Only thing I want from you is a definite understanding. From here on in you’re gonna leave me alone. You’ll hafta get it through your head I’m a married man.”

“By the way,” she murmured casually, “where is she?”

He blinked a few times.

She took a slow easy drag at the cigarette. “Well?” She watched the smoke drifting away from her lips. “Come on, tell me. Where’s the bride?”

His mouth was opened loosely. He went on blinking.

“I’ll tell you where she is,” Bella said. “She’s sound asleep in a nice clean bed. In a nice clean house. In a nice respectable neighborhood.”

He swallowed hard. He couldn’t say anything.

Bella said, “It stands to reason she wouldn’t stay here. She’d be a damn fool to spend the night in this dump.”

“All right,” he muttered. “That’s enough.”

Bella looked at the cigarette held loosely in her fingers. She spoke to the cigarette. “Sure, the bride took a run-out. And who can blame her? The groom brings her to a house with the plaster chipping off the walls and the furniture coming apart and empty beer bottles all over the floor. It’s a wonder she let herself sit on the sofa. This afternoon she’ll be taking her dress to the cleaners, you can bet on that and your money’s safe. Another thing she’ll do, she’ll go to the beauty parlor and have her hair washed, an extra soaping just to make sure. After all, in these Vernon rat traps you never know, you can pick up anything. What she really oughta do is spray herself with DDT.”

“Shut up,” he said. “You better shut up.”

Bella shrugged. “Well, anyway, she’s breathing easier now. That cleaner, fresher air uptown.”

He stood motionless. The quiet in the room was unbearable, and he knew he had to say something. His mouth was tight as he said, “You don’t get the point. All she did was walk out of the house. She didn’t walk out on me.”

“That ain’t what I’m saying.” Bella spoke very quietly. But now the cigarette trembled in her fingers. “Cantcha see what I’m trying to tell ya? No matter how much she wants you, she can’t get away from uptown. And sure as hell you can’t get away from here.”

“Can’t I?” His eyes aimed past Bella, seeing past the walls, past Vernon rooftops and sky. “All it takes is streetcar fare. Just a matter of fifteen cents.”

The cigarette split in half. The lighted end hit the floor and scorched the carpet. Bella stepped on the burning stub. She looked at the scattered ashes. She was sobbing without sound as she said, “Don’t throw your money away. It’s a dime and a nickel wasted. All you’ll be doing is taking yourself for a ride.”

“It’s gonna be more than that,” he said. “I’ll be going somewhere.” And then, as though Bella weren’t in the room, he said softly to himself, “She’s there, she’s waiting for me.”

“You fool,” Bella whispered. “You poor fool.”

He looked at her. There was a practical tone in his voice as he said, “I’m leaving tonight. As soon as I get home from work. Tell Lola not to cook for me. I’m gonna be in a hurry.”

Bella nodded very slowly. She gazed vacantly at the door behind him. Her lips moved automatically. “All right, I’ll tell her not to cook for you.”

He turned away from her. He opened the door and walked out of the room.

Then in his own room he was putting on his work clothes. He was thinking, Tomorrow morning it’ll be a different room, a different house, a different street. From now on everything’s gonna be different, gonna be better. His brain could taste the pleasant flavor of saying good-by to all Vernon dwellings, all Vernon faces.

There was a sound from the bed where Frank was sleeping fitfully. Turning over on his side, Frank grunted and let out a dry cough. Frank’s face was toward the window, and as the morning light hit him, he opened his eyes. He saw Kerrigan sitting in a chair near the window. Kerrigan had just finished tying a shoelace and he was sitting up straight.

Frank’s eyes were shiny. His mouth began to twitch. He lifted his head from the pillow, bracing himself on his elbows. He said, “Quit watching me.”

Kerrigan made a gesture of weary annoyance. “Go back to sleep.”

“Why d’ya keep watching me?”

“For God’s sake, come off that routine.”

“I can’t come off,” Frank said. “You keep me on it. You won’t leave me alone.”

Kerrigan shrugged. It was no use going on with it.

“I’m warning you,” Frank said. “You better stop watching me.”

He told himself to go easy. He said softly, “All right, let’s skip it. I got other things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

He smiled amiably at his brother. “Well, I finally went and did it. I got hitched.”

Frank blinked a few times. “For real?”

He nodded. “License and ring and the whole works. Last night at the Greek’s.”

Frank lowered his legs off the side of the bed. He leaned forward stiffly, his skinny torso slanted like something activated by a lever. His voice was dull and metallic as he said, “Who is she?”

“You don’t know her.”

“Maybe I do,” Frank said. “What’s her name?”

“Loretta.”

“The blonde?”

Kerrigan flinched. He had an odd feeling, as though he were bolted to the chair.

“The blonde with green eyes?” Frank asked. “The tasty dish from uptown?”

He sat there and stared at Frank.

“Sure,” Frank said. “I know her.”

“What do you mean, you know her?”

Frank parted his lips, his mouth curled up at the corners, revealing his yellow teeth. He didn’t say anything.

Kerrigan tried to get up from the chair. He couldn’t move. He said very slowly, “Whatever’s on your mind, don’t hold it back. Let’s have it.”

The toothy grimace stayed on Frank’s face. He was looking past Kerrigan and saying, “I’ve seen her in Dugan’s Den. Seen her there a lotta times. One night she bought me a drink. We talked. We stood there at the bar and she bought me more drinks and we talked.”

“What about?”

“I don’t remember,” Frank said. The grimace widened. “All I remember is looking at her and thinking she reminded me of someone.”

“Who?” It was blurted, almost a shout.

But Frank didn’t seem to hear. “It wasn’t the face or the body. It wasn’t the eyes, either. More like the feeling you get when you’re in a room that looks different but somehow you know you’ve been there before. Can’t put your finger on what it is, but you know it just the same. That’s what I remember mostly, that feeling. It was sorta weird, it gimme the chills. But that don’t matter. I like to get the chills. It feels nice when I start to shiver. So there we stood at the bar and I was shivering and it felt real nice. And then, when she walked out, I waited just long enough to say the alphabet from A to Q. Then I followed her.”

“You did what?”

“Followed her,” Frank said, speaking to the wall.

“Was she alone?”

Frank’s head moved jerkily up and down. “She’d come to Dugan’s to pick up her brother, the lush. But he wouldn’t leave. He told her to go home alone. On the street I saw her walking toward that little car she drives. The little gray job with the wire wheels. It was parked on the other side of Vernon, halfway down the block. All the other spaces were taken up by trucks. So she hadda do some walking to get to the car. That gave me plenty of time to follow her. I was shivering real good then, nice and cold. She looked so slim and trim and neat, so clean and shining, like something you see in a dream. That’s it. In a dream. And I’d been there before. The same moon. The same street. Everything the same except for one thing. Her name. It wasn’t Loretta.”