Бетти Смит - Maggie-Now

L,77 "Gee!'' he breathed admiringly.

He found the salami hanging with other bolognas, near the door. He brought it out to the block. He took a knife from the rack. It was as big as a saber. He walked twice around the block, half afraid to start cutting the salami.

"Hey, Otto," he called. "How do you make it dingy?"

Otto sighed, put down his bread and came out into the shop. He snatched the saber from Denny, gave him a dirty look and said: "Dockle!" He replaced the saber and withdrew a long thin knife from the rack. It had been honed so many times that it was down to a quarter inch of blade.

"Watch!" commanded the butcher.

He inserted the fingernails of the middle and forefinger of his left hand deep into the salami near the edge of the roll. He leaned the knife blade against his fingers and sliced. He held the slice up to the light. It was transparent! Even a little seed in the salami had been cut in half.

"My God!" said Denny in admiration.

"Dinny!" proclaimed the butcher.

Winer handed him the knife. Denny dug his nails into the salami, wishing they were cleaner, and placed the knife blade against his fingers. The hand holding the knife started to tremble. He looked an appeal at Winer. The good man understood.

"I ain't done eating yet," he said. He went back to his bread and "bree" and beer.

Denny breathed easier. His hand stopped trembling. He cut through. He held up the slice to the light. It was almost as transparent as the butcher's!

"Gee!" he whispered. thrilled.

He cut four more slices, testing each against the light.

The fifth slice was opaque. He had grown too confident.

He popped that into his mouth and cut the last two slices perfectly. He arranged the slices overlapping on a bit of oiled paper. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. He carried the salami roll back to the icebox and hung it up. Still holding the knife, he went over to the hog and stared at it.

"You like the hog?" said Winer, who had come in behind him.

"It's a ditty," said Denny.

[378] "C;o 'head," said Whler. "Tell Nile kinds of pork it gives from a hog."

Denny touched the hole with his knife. "pork chops?" he asked hesitantly.

"Sure."

"Honest?" said Denny, all aglow Otto Winer felt a distinc t thrill. I-le recognised immediately a meat aficionado. "Go 'head' Show me more."

Denny touched a haunch with the ktlife. Fresh ham?"

"Good! "

"Shoulder ham?"

"Good! "

"Pigs' knuckles."

"Good."

"Spareribs?'' "Sehr good!"

"But where's the bacon?" asked Dentin.

"Smoked. Hanging on the hook by the ~ indo\N;," said Winer. scathingly. "Dockle!"

Denny drew himself up:-o his full height and even stretched a little. He looked Winer right in the eye.

"Listen," he said, "I don't like that name Dockle. Call me Dennis."

Winer measured him with a look, then said, "All right, Den-iss.' "What's that white wrinkled skin hanging there?"

"Tripe."

"Tripe? I always thought that v. as a word meaning 110

good." "I don't like tripe, needer," said Otto.

"Do you ever need a helper? " asked Denny.

"When I'm busy, I need, when I ain't, I don't."

But thoughts raced through Winer's mind. I know a lot of things about meat, he thought in (Berman. It is not right that, when I die. nobody lives no more as l nows caveat I

know. For forty years, the meat is nzy life and I learned many things by myself. About cutting meat. This boy here, I

could teach him these things. A son l never had. But this boy

. .

Denny broke in on his revery. "Well, if you ever do need a helper, think of me. The name is Dennis Moore."

"I don't hear good from you," said the butcher. "You go by the poolroom every night.'

t'791 "I quit that."

"How long ago you stop?"

"Starting now."

He don't Arrow, thought Winer.

"But where you world, you don't stay long. You get fresh with the boss and you be lazy."

Denny put away the fresh retort which came so handily to his mind. He took his cap cliff and wrung it in his hands, looking away from Wmer.

"I've been working since I'm sixteen. All the things I've worked at, I never liked. I don't like to work at jobs I

don't like. So I get fresh so I can get fired. But here. ."

He looked around at the sides of meat. "To work here, it would be like going to Coney Island every day in the summer."

It was done! Winer knew it and Denny knew it. But there were certain formalities.

"How much does Ceppi pay you?" asked Winer.

Denny was going to lie and say twenty dollars. He decided against it not that he believed in the truth, but he thought it would be bad luck if he lied now.

"Eighteen dollars," said Denny.

"Maybe I could pay that," said Winer. But he sounded doubtful.

"I get eighteen dollars. And tips for deliveries."

"Eighteen dollars I give you and no more," said Winer firmly. "Your tips is that I learn you a good trade."

Denny's heart jumped. He was hired! He had never expected… why he would have worked for nothing….

Winer mistook Denny's introspection for hesitation. He felt he had to add something. "Never will you starve are you a butcher because always people must eat and always they like to eat meat."

"Eighteen dollars is fair enough," said Denny.

They shook hands clumsily over the deal. Both were embarrassed with being so secretly delighted. "You start Monday?" asked Winer.

"First, [must tell Ceppi and my sister."

"That's a good boy," approved Winer.

"But are you sure, Denny? 'All my life' is a long time when you're only nineteen."

[3S ]

'I'm sure. I went in there and there \vas this cat in the window and clean sawdust on that clean floor, and the wood block and the good knives that he keeps sharpened…. I wish I could get it over to you, Maggie-Now, btlt I can't. Anyway, I knew all of a sudden that that was what I wanted to do all my life. This is a dopey thing to say, but I felt that I'd been born just for that."

She smiled. Maggie-Now had never expected Denny to grow up to be President of the IJnited States. Still and all, she'd had a dream or two for the baby her dying mother had put into her arms; a dream for the vulnerable little boy who had sat on his cot alone the day she married;

who had said: "I want to go with you." No, she had never

— xpectcd hin1 to become President or even a governor.

Yet. . ye t. .

"I'm glad you found what you avant to \N ork at, Denny.

I think it's a fine trade for a n1an."

Denny was making soup greens. He walked along the bins, taking a wrinkled carrot, an outside stalk leaf of celery, pinched with wilt at the top, a tomato with a soft spot and a sprig of parsley. He put these in a twist of paper called a toot. When he had enough toots filled, he wrote a sign on a paper bag: Sale on Soup Greens. Only 5›. He put the toots on a stand near the door to immediately attract buyers. He \vas following the boss's orders to push soup greens that morning.

"Ceppi," asked Denny briglltly, 'do you think you could do without me?"

"Anytime. All-a time," said Ceppi.

"Because after Saturday you won't see me any more."

"Sure, I see you. Ever' Sunday I cotne see you in reform school and I bring orange for you."