David Goodis: The Moon in the Gutter

Then suddenly he heard it, but it wasn’t a voice. It was the door. He turned slowly and saw Frank coming into the room.

They looked at each other. Frank’s mouth was twitching. The eyes were very shiny, the arms hanging stiffly and the hands slanted out at an odd angle with the fingers stretched rigid. Then Frank was staring at the wall behind Kerrigan’s head and saying quietly, “What goes on here?”

Kerrigan didn’t reply.

“I’m asking you something,” Frank said. “Whatcha doing in this room?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a liar,” Frank said.

“All right, I’m a liar.” He made a move toward the door. Frank wouldn’t get out of the way.

“I want to know what you’re up to,” Frank said. He blinked a few times. “We might as well get it straight here and now.”

“Get what straight?” Kerrigan’s eyes were drilling the face in front of him and trying to see what was going on in Frank’s mind.

Frank began to breathe very fast. Again he was staring at the wall. He said, “You’re not fooling me. You got a long way to go before you can fool me.”

Kerrigan made a weary gesture. “For God’s sake,” he said. “Why don’t you knock it off? Quit looking for trouble.”

Frank blinked again, and then for a moment his eyes were tightly shut as though he were trying to erase something from his mind. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t go away, and the weight of it seemed to push down on him, causing his skinny shoulders to sag. His head was bent low, and light from the ceiling bulb put a soft glow on his white hair. There was something gloomy in the way the light fell on him. It was like an eye looking down at him, feeling sorry for him.

It occurred to Kerrigan that he ought to show kindness toward Frank. He sensed that Frank was headed toward a breakdown, the total result of too many bad habits, especially alcohol. He thought, Poor devil looks all washed out, just about ready to drop.

He smiled softly and reached out and put his hand on Frank’s shoulder. Frank hopped backward as though he’d been jabbed with a hot needle. And then he went on moving backward, crouching and breathing fast with his mouth opened so that his teeth showed. His trembling lips released the choked whisper, “Keep your hands off me.”

“I’m only trying—”

“You’re trying to ruin me,” Frank gasped. “You won’t be satisfied until I’m all smashed up, done for, finished. But I won’t let you do it. I won’t let you.” His voice went up to a thin wail that twisted and snapped and then he was staring at floor and walls and ceiling, like a trapped creature frantically seeking escape.

“Want a cigarette?” Kerrigan said.

Frank didn’t seem to hear. His lips were moving without sound and it appeared he was talking to himself.

Kerrigan lit a cigarette for himself and stood there watching as Frank sat down on the edge of the bed and lowered his head into his arms. Kerrigan thought, It ain’t that he’s afraid of me, it’s got nothing to do with me, he’s afraid of the world, he’s finally got to the point where he can’t face the world.

He heard Frank saying dully, “I want you to leave me alone.”

“I’m not bothering you, Frank. Seems to me it’s the other way around.”

“Just lay off. That’s all I ask.”

“Sure, Frank.” His voice was as soft and gentle as he could make it. “That’s what I’ve been doing all along. I’ve never stood in your way. Whatever you do is your own affair.”

Frank stood up. He was calmer now, he seemed to have control of himself. But as he moved toward the door, he wasn’t looking at Kerrigan. It was as though Kerrigan weren’t there.

When Frank had gone, Kerrigan took a long drag from the cigarette. He went on dragging at it until it was down to a stub that scorched his fingers. He hurled the stub to the floor and stepped on it.

Suddenly he felt smothered in here. And somehow it had nothing to do with the tobacco smoke that filled the room. He made a lunge for the doorknob, telling himself that he needed air.

He hurried through the hall and across the parlor. He opened the front door, came out on the doorstep, and saw the other female member of the household. Her name was Bella and she was Lola’s daughter. She was sitting on the top step, and as she sensed his presence, her head turned very slowly, and her eyes drilled him with a mixture of icy scorn and fiery need.

“Hello,” Kerrigan said.

“You go to hell.”

“Still mad at me?”

“Do me a favor. Drink some poison.”

Bella was in her middle twenties. She’d been married three times, once by a judge and twice by common law. Somewhat tall and on the plump side, she was a slightly smaller edition of her mother. Her hair was the same jet black, her eyes dark and flashing, her complexion a Cherokee russet. She had the same generously rounded build as Lola, and emphasized it with tightly fitting blouses and skirts.

She had a loud and very bushy mouth, an evil temper, and she wasn’t afraid of a living soul with the exception of her mother. Some weeks ago, during an argument in the parlor, she’d kicked Kerrigan and really hurt him, and Lola grabbed her and tore her up so badly with an ironing cord that she couldn’t leave the house for two days.

Kerrigan smiled at her. “What’s the gripe this time?”

“Take a walk,” Bella snapped. “I told you a week ago you’re off my list.”

He sat down beside her on the doorstep. “I still don’t know what you’re sore about.”

Bella stared straight ahead. “You got a short memory, mister.”

Somehow tonight he found her presence invigorating and her nearness gave him a feeling of comfort and pleasure.

He said, “I think it was something about a blonde.”

She scowled. “Can’t you remember which one? Maybe you got so many on the string, you forget their names.”

“Was it Vera?”

“No, it wasn’t Vera. And while we’re at it, who the hell is Vera?”

Kerrigan shrugged. “She’s a waitress. When I’m in a diner I gotta talk to the waitress. I gotta tell her what I wanta eat.”

Bella didn’t reply. Kerrigan offered her a cigarette and she grudgingly accepted. He pulled a book of matches from his trousers pocket and lit it. For a while they sat there just smoking.

Finally Bella said, “It wasn’t no waitress I saw you with. To me she looked like a two-dollar type. You took her for a walk up Second and then you went in a house with her.”

“What house? What are you talking about?” He frowned with genuine bewilderment and rubbed the back of his head. Then, as the incident came back, “For God’s sake, that was no house, it was a store. She’s married and has five children. Her husband sells secondhand furniture. I told her we needed another lamp for the parlor. If you don’t believe me, go inside and take a look. You’ll see the lamp I bought.”

Bella was convinced, but not mollified. She said, “Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked you the first time?”

“I didn’t like the way you asked me, that’s why. Didn’t even give me a chance to explain. Just came leaping at me like a wildcat.”

“Did you have to punch me in the face?”

“If I hadn’t, you’d have torn my eyes out.”

“One of these days I will.”

He showed her an easy grin. “Don’t do it when your mother’s around.”

“She won’t stop me the next time. Nothing will.”

Kerrigan let the grin fade. He didn’t like the look on Bella’s face. There was a grimness in her eyes that made him know she meant every word she said.

“What’s the big beef?” he said. “What’s eating you?”

For a moment she was quiet. Then she said, “I’m tired of waiting.”