Бетти Смит - Maggie-Now

She looked around for Denny. Only then did she recall that she hadn't seen him since the ceremony. She went to his room. He was sitting on the middle of his cot.

~ 287 1 "Denny, why didn't you come out for a piece of cake?"

"I don't like cake."

"Why, you love cake."

"Today, I don't. Where you going?"

"Away with Claude for a little while."

"I want to go with you."

She knelt down and put her arms around him. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"NO, you won't. You just say that so I won't cry."

"I promise. And I'll bring you a nice present."

"But I'd sooner go with you."

"Not this time, Demly, dear. Now come out and see the company."

"I don't want to."

"Why? "

"Because I don't like to."

She got to her feet and spoke a bit sharply. "It makes no difference whether you like to or not. There are certain things that you have to do. You can't always run away and hide. Come on, now." He went into the living room with her.

She kissed everyone good-by, her father last of all. "Say something nice to Claude, Papa," she whispered.

"Not while he's above ground." Pat didn't bother to whisper, either.

"Please?" she begged.

Grudgingly, extended his hand to Claude. He tried for words. He wanted to say something to Claude that would please Maggie-Now and yet not be something nice.

Eventually he came up with the words spoken to him more than twenty-five years ago by Mary's father.

"Be good to this good girl," he said.

"I promise," said Claude, "not to beat her more than once a day."

The bastid, thought liar Why couldn't l a-thought of that remark twerlty-five years ago?

They scrambled down the stoop in approved newlywed fashion, ducking their heads correctly to avoid being spattered with the conventional rice, which Mrs.

O'Crawley had thought to bring with her. Hand in hand, they ran to the corner to get a trolley ~ 288 ~

and, arriving there out of breath, had to wait fifteen minutes for a car to come along.

Claude had two surprises for his bride: the wedding supper and the hotel where they'd spend their one-night honeymoon. He took her to Gage and Tollner for the supper and Maggie-Now couldn't get over how beautiful it was; the wonderful food and the exquisite service. When the headwaiter presented them with a split of champagne, compliments of the management, she was so delighted that she stuttered when she tried to speak. She took a sip of champagne.

"I love it!" she said. "It's so good."

"That's strange," he said. "Champagne is an acquired taste. Like olives."

"I love olives, too." Then she cried out in exaggerated happiness; "I love everything in the whole world!"

When the waiter appeared before them with the tray of French pastries, she was lost. "What will I do? What will I do?" she moaned. "They are all so beautiful. No matter which one I take, I'll be sorry that I didn't rake some other one."

"I'll choose for you," he said. He had not one, but two pastries put on her plate.

She was about to eat a pastry the way she ate her breakfast bun: out of hand. But she saw (laude pick up a short fork to eat his with and she followed suit.

"Do you mean to say," she asked, "that there are people in the world who eat like this every day?"

"You ain't seen nothing, yet," he said in an inept Al Jolson imitation. "Wait until I take you over to the Chambord in Manhattan. Wait until I take you to Antoine's down in New Orleans for a New Year's Eve supper."

"It couldn't possibly be better," she said flatly, "than this place right here in Brooklyn."

He had reserved a room for them at the St. George Hotel. She had never been in a hotel before. She was so awed that she spoke in whispers.

"Do you mean to say," she whispered, "that you take wages for working in this beautiful place?"

He laughed. "Good Lord, I don't work here. I work in a mean, grubby. ." He broke off to show her the register.

"Look!" In

~ 289]

a careful, beautiful hand, he wrote: Mr. and Mrs. Claude Bassett, Manhattan Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y.

Tears of happiness came to her eyes. "It looks so real,"

she said. "Like forever," she whispered.

"It is, my Margaret. It is," he said.

She babbled happily about the beauty and luxury of their room. She was awed by the huge, gleaming bathroom. She would have spent hours joyously examining each piece of furniture and each bathroom fixture, but he cut her short.

"It's been a long day," he said, "and you must be tired.

I know I am. So. ."

Faint pink colored her cheeks. "All right," she agreed.

She took her little suitcase and w ent into the bathroom.

She took a bath, using her geranium-scented soap, and dusted herself with Mennen's talcum powder. She got into her new white nightgown and robe and slippers. She took her hairbrush and went back into the other room. He was sprawled out in an armchair but he got up when she entered the room. She stood in front of the dresser mirror and brushed her hair.

"You look like a bride," he said with a smile.

"I am a bride," she said seriously. He took his hat from the closet shelf. "Going out?" she asked, surprised.

"Margaret," he said, "you want children, don't you?"

"Oh, yes," she said eagerly. "Lots of children. Why?"

He turned his hat twice around in his hands before he answered. "Wouldn't you like to wait a year or so? Give us a chance to know each other better; get used to each other. . have some fun? You're still so young."

She turned to face him, her brush stilled and suspended over her head. "But, Claude! I want a child right away."

He put his hat back on the shelf.

He bathed and got into his new blue pajamas. He buttoned up the frogs and examined himself in the door mirror. He didn't like the way he looked. He put the pajama coat inside the pants and pulled the string tighter.

He thought that looked worse. He pulled the coat out again. He took a pair of military brushes from a leather case: Maggie-Now's wedding gift to him. He wet his hair and started to brush it. He brushed and brushed and brushed. Finally, he had to admit to himself that he was stalling for time.

[290] I must be very careful, he thought. She's never been with a man. I must be careful not to frighten her. Not to disgust her. She will remember this night all of her life. I must not let it be a bad night to remember. He made plans. I'll walk around the room and fix the shades and look out the window and say easy things like all the stars are out tonight. I'll hang up my clothes and maybe sit on the bed and get her to talking about, say, the church socials, and when she's relaxed and drowsy. .

When he felt he could put it off no longer, he entered the bedroom with trepidation. She was sitting up in bed in her modest white nightgown and a braid over each shoulder.

When she saw him, she smiled, stretched out both arms to him and said: "Come to me."

"IT AIN'T a home no more," complained Pat. "It's the Long Island Railroad Depot where people come and go all hours. It's a shortorder lunchroom where they throw food at you, and," he concluded vaguely, "that's where all me money goes."

It wasn't as bad as he said, even though all didn't sit down to meals at the same time and all didn't sleep at the same time. Claude came home from work as Pat and Denny were leaving the house in the morning. Claude and Maggie-Now had breakfast together, then she pulled down the bedroom shades and they went to bed together. She got up in time to fix Denny's noon lunch and didn't go back to bed. She put in the afternoon attending to her household duties.