James Cain - The Postman Always Rings Twice

He saw my face and took me outside. “Out in a air, you feel better.”

“ ’S all right. I’ll be all right.”

“Sit down. Keep quiet.”

“Go ahead in. I just ate too much lunch. I’ll be all right.”

He went in, and I let everything come up. It was like hell the lunch, or the potatoes, or the wine. I wanted that woman so bad I couldn’t even keep anything on my stomach.

Next morning the sign was blown down. About the middle of the night it had started to blow, and by morning it was a windstorm that took the sign with it.

“It’s awful. Look at that.”

“Was a very big wind. I could no sleep. No sleep all night.”

“Big wind all right. But look at the sign.”

“Is busted.”

I kept tinkering with the sign, and he would come out and watch me. “How did you get this sign anyway?”

“Was here when I buy the place. Why?”

“It’s lousy all right. I wonder you do any business at all.”

I went to gas up a car, and left him to think that over. When I got back he was still blinking at it, where it was leaning against the front of the lunchroom. Three of the lights were busted. I plugged in the wire, and half of the others didn’t light.

“Put in new lights, hang’m up, will be all right.”

“You’re the boss.” “What’s a matter with it?”

“Well, it’s out of date. Nobody has bulb signs any more. They got Neon signs. They show up better, and they don’t burn as much juice. Then, what does it say? Twin Oaks, that’s all. The Tavern part, it’s not in lights. Well, Twin Oaks don’t make me hungry. It don’t make me want to stop and get something to eat. It’s costing you money, that sign, only you don’t know it.”

“Fix’m up, will be hokay.”

“Why don’t you get a new sign?”

“I’m busy.”

But pretty soon he was back, with a piece of paper. He had drew a new sign for himself, and colored it up with red, white, and blue crayon. It said Twin Oaks Tavern, and Eat, and Bar-B-Q, and Sanitary Rest Rooms, and N. Papadakis, Prop.

“Swell. That’ll knock them for a loop.”

I fixed up the words, so they were spelled right, and he put some more curlycues on the letters.

“Nick, why do we hang up the old sign at all? Why don’t you go to the city today and get this new sign made? It’s a beauty, believe me it is. And it’s important. A place is no better than it’s sign, is it?”

“I do it. By golly, I go.”

Los Angeles wasn’t but twenty miles away, but he shined himself up like he was going to Paris, and right after lunch, he went. Soon as he was gone, I locked the front door. I picked up a plate that a guy had left, and went on back in the kitchen with it. She was there.

“Here’s a plate that was out there.”

“Oh, thanks.”

I set it down. The fork was rattling like a tambourine.

“I was going to go, but I started some things cooking and I thought I better not.”

“I got plenty to do, myself.”

“You feeling better?”

“I’m all right.”

“Sometimes just some little thing will do it. Like a change of water, something like that.”

“Probably too much lunch.”

“What’s that?”

Somebody was out front, rattling the door. “Sounds like somebody trying to get in.”

“Is the door locked, Frank?”

“I must have locked it.”

She looked at me, and got pale. She went to the swinging door, and peeped through. Then she went into the lunchroom, but in a minute she was back.

“They went away.”

“I don’t know why I locked it.”

“I forgot to unlock it.”

She started for the lunchroom again, but I stopped her. “Let’s — leave it locked.”

“Nobody can get in if it’s locked. I got some cooking to do. I’ll wash up this plate.”

I took her in my arms and mashed my mouth up against hers.... “Bite me! Bite me!”

I bit her. I sunk my teeth into her lips so deep I could feel the blood spurt into my mouth. It was running down her neck when I carried her upstairs.

For two days after that I was dead, but the Greek was sore at me, so I got by all right. He was sore at me because I hadn’t fixed the swing door that led from the lunchroom into the kitchen. She told him it swung back and hit her in the mouth. She had to tell him something. Her mouth was all swelled up where I had bit it. So he said it was my fault, that I hadn’t fixed it. I stretched the spring, so it was weaker, and that fixed it.

But the real reason he was sore at me was over the sign. He had fallen for it so hard he was afraid I would say it was my idea, stead of his. It was such a hell of a sign they couldn’t get it done for him that afternoon. It took them three days, and when it was ready I went in and got it and hung it up. It had on it all that he had drew on the paper, and a couple of other things besides. It had a Greek flag and an American flag, and hands shaking hands, and Satisfaction Guaranteed. It was all in red, white, and blue Neon letters, and I waited until dark to turn on the juice. When I snapped the switch, it lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Well, I’ve seen many a sign in my time, but never one like that. I got to hand it to you, Nick.”

“By golly. By golly.”

We shook hands. We were friends again.

Next day I was alone with her for a minute, and swung my fist up against her leg so hard it nearly knocked her over.

“How do you get that way?” She was snarling like a cougar. I liked her like that.

“How are you, Cora?”

“Lousy.”

From then on, I began to smell her again.

One day the Greek heard there was a guy up the road undercutting him on gas. He jumped in the car to go see about it. I was in my room when he drove off, and I turned around to dive down in the kitchen. But she was already there, standing in the door.

I went over and looked at her mouth. It was the first chance I had had to see how it was. The swelling was all gone, but you could still see the tooth marks, little blue creases on both lips. I touched them with my fingers. They were soft and damp. I kissed them, but not hard. They were little soft kisses. I had never thought about them before. She stayed until the Greek came back, about an hour. We didn’t do anything. We just lay on the bed. She kept rumpling my hair, and looking up at the ceiling, like she was thinking.

“You like blueberry pie?”

“I don’t know. Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’ll make you some.”

“Look out, Frank. You’ll break a spring leaf.”

“To hell with the spring leaf.”

We were crashing into a little eucalyptus grove beside the road. The Greek had sent us down to the market to take back some T-bone steaks he said were lousy, and on the way back it had got dark. I slammed the car in there, and it bucked and bounced, but when I was in among the trees I stopped. Her arms were around me before I even cut the lights. We did plenty. After a while we just sat there. “I can’t go on like this, Frank.”

“Me neither.”

“I can’t stand it. And I’ve got to get drunk with you, Frank. You know what I mean? Drunk.”

“I know.”

“And I hate that Greek.”

“Why did you marry him? You never did tell me that.”

“I haven’t told you anything.”

“We haven’t wasted any time on talk.”

“I was working in a hash house. You spend two years in a Los Angeles hash house and you’ll take the first guy that’s got a gold watch.”

“When did you leave Iowa?”

“Three years ago. I won a beauty contest. I won a high school beauty contest, in Des Moines. That’s where I lived. The prize was a trip to Hollywood. I got off the Chief with fifteen guys taking my picture, and two weeks later I was in the hash house.”