Бетти Смит - Maggie-Now

"Where's my fish sandwich?" he asked.

"In a minute, Eddies" said the woman. She stuck a fork in a thick wedge of halibut which w as browning in a caldron of boiling oil. "In a minute."

~ good Catholic boy, thought Maggie-Now. Fish for him 077 Fridays.

He recognized Mag. de-Now. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," she answered. They smiled at each other.

"How's your brother?"

1 3,6 1

'iFine."

"That's fine."

It seemed they had run out of conversation until l\laggie-Now said: "My father went around and gave Mr.

Golend a dollar for the plate and Mr. Golend said he was satisfied."

"That's fine."

"Here you are, Maggie.' The fish dealer pushed the package across the counter. "Fifty-~wo cents."

"Look," said the cop. "NVould it be all right if I came around to see you some night; I mean in plain clothes?"

"I'm married," she said.

"Oh, I see!" The smile washed off his face. "I'm sorry,"

he said sincerely.

"I'll always appreciate what you did for my brother."

"That's all right," he said. She left the store.

"What do you want on your fish sandwich, Eddie?" asked the woman.

"Nothing," he said. "Just some catsup."

She prepared for bed as usual that night. She undressed, put on the Chinese kimono and the moccasins that Claude had given her. She went out and covered Timmv's cage.

She sat before the dressing table he had given her and brushed her hair. She ran her hand over the smooth leather of the little red suitcase, read his postcard and read a line car two from the SOm?ets. It was her nightly communication with her husband.

She lay awake in bed thinking. Make believe, she thought, that I had never met and married Clande (and that would have been just terrible!). But make believe anyhow. Suppose I had married someone like this Eddie. I know I would've liked him if I wasn't married. We would live in a house on the Island. We'd all go to Mass together on Sundays and sit in the back pew so that in case the children got restless, they wouldn't annoy too many people back there. He would come hoagie to me and the children every single night and. .

The next day, Saturday, she \`ent about with a heavy heart. She had to go to confession that night and she had a grave sin to confess and she did not know its name. I CJ??'t say I committed adultery in my thoughts: that l was lewd in Any thoughts. . what name can I give this sill?

[337 1 She went to confession late and let others go before her.

She was trying to think of a name for her sin. The church was empty; she was the last one. She knelt in the dark confessional and confessed the usual sins in a whisper and then she came to the big sin.

"I lusted after a man, Father." It was the only way she knew how to say it. She thought she heard a snort from the other side of the tiny screened opening, but she wasn't sure.

"Explain, my child," said the priest.

"I thought how it would be if I were married to a man other than my husband."

He made no comment. She finished her confession, and was kneeling in a pew saying her penance, when she saw Father Flynn come out: of the confessional. He went to the altar and extinguished the candles. He genuflected and then knelt to pray before the altar.

When she left the church, Father Flynn was waiting on the steps. "Margaret," he said, "Monday I will take you to the home. I will do whatever I can to get you a foster child or two."

"Oh, Father!" she said, tears of joy coming to her eyes.

"I think it is time," he said.

~ CHAPTI,R FORTY-EIGHT ~ MAGGIE-NOW sat on a long bench while she waited for Father Flynn to confer with Mother Vincent de Paul. The room was combined office and waiting room. A nun sat at a typewriter briskly tapping out letters from shorthand notes. Another nun had six varicolored sheets and five carbons in her typewriter and was filling out forms. A very young nun stood at a filing case expertly filing documents and letters away. Another sat at a table and filled in a printed form with the answers of an applicant who stood before her.

All the clerical activity should have made it seem like an efficient office. But the habited nuns and a large picture of Christ holding a lamb in His arms gave it the feeling of a busy church. Aside from the woman having a form filled out, there were four other f338]

women with Maggie-Now on the bench. Two had children with them. The woman next to Maggie-Now was evidently foster mother to a beautiful child of six who quietly wandered about the room, returning to the bench at intervals. She addressed the woman as "Mama."

Maggie-Now struck up a conversation with the woman.

"She's very pretty."

"Yes. I hate to give her up. My husband and I got very attached to her. We get attached to all of them. But she's six now and they have to take her back to put her in school. Well, in the twenty years I been a foster mother, I had to give up many a one I would have liked to keep.

This one especially." She returned the smile the little girl gave her across the room before she resumed talking. She dropped her voice.

"This one's different. Her mother was a rich and beautiful society girl and her father was a poor artist. Her parents wouldn't let her marry this artist. But they had this child anyhow."

"Did they tell you that here? " asked Maggie-Now.

"Not in so many words," evaded the woman. "But I

kr~o~v." She whispered: "She's a love child. That's why she's so beautiful."

Father Flylm came out of Mother Vincent de Paul's office and instructed Maggie-Now to file an application.

He stood by her side. The nun asked the routine questions and filled in the answers. Then she came to "Husband."

"Occupation? "

"He travels…." Maggie-Now looked appealingly at Father Flynn.

"Traveling man," said the priest.

The nun's pen hovered over the blank space for a second or two before she wrote: "Travels."

"Income? "

"I live with my father. He's in Civil Service." She stated his salary. "And I get twenty-five a month from rental property and I own my own house free and clear."

"Husband's income?"

"He earns fifty dollars, sometimes thirty dollars a week."

She paused. "When he works," she added honestly. The nun put a question mark in that space.

The nun picked up the application and said: "I'll take you to

~ 339 ~ Mother Vincent de Paul. This way."

The nun put the paper on the desk and quietly withdrew. It was a small room holding only a desk and a chair. A large crucifix hung on the wall behind the desk.

The mother wore bifocals and may have been in her sixties, although it was hard to tell the age of a nun; no matter what age, their faces were unlined and serene.

Maggie-Now stood quietly she had not been asked to sit down and waited. Without looking up, the mother said: "As you know, there are certain irregularities in your application." She pointed to the printed word "Children,"

and the inked "None" in the space following. "But Father Flynn spoke highly of you and we'll waive that. Do you agree to take two children?"

"Oh, yes! Yes!"

"Children must grow up with other children."

"Yes, Mother."

"When a child reaches the age of six, he will be taken from you. There must be no pleas, no tears, no requests to keep in touch with the child and no requests for adopting the child. Do you understand? "