David Goodis - The Blonde on the Street Corner

“I was on Market Street today,” Mabel said. “I ate lunch at Kresge’s. I had such a delicious lunch.” Mabel was twenty-seven. She was short, with a thick waist and thick ankles. Her father had a small grocery store around the corner, and occasionally she helped him. At Girls’ High she had been an honor student and she still wore her sterling silver scholastic-honor pin. She said, “And then afterwards I walked up and down on Market Street and you know what?”

Pauline said, “What?”

“I saw Tony Martin coming out of the Earle.”

“No!” Agnes cried.

“Yes,” Mabel said. “I should die right now if I’m not telling the truth. It was Tony Martin.”

Pauline said, “Yes, that’s right. He’s on the Earle stage this week.”

“What does he look like?” Agnes said.

Mabel took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling and shook her head.

“No kidding,” Agnes said.

“Well, I’m telling you, he’s really something,” Mabel said.

“You mean it, kid?” Pauline said.

“Say, listen, I’m not blind,” Mabel said.

“Gee whiz,” Agnes said.

“His teeth — you ought to see his teeth,” Mabel said.

“You got that close?” Agnes said.

“Close?” Mabel sat up straight and her eyes were wide open and so was her mouth. “Why — I was close enough to touch him.”

“Did you?” Pauline said.

“You mean touch him?” Mabel was making up her mind about whether or not to lie about this. She reluctantly decided not to lie.

“Say, what do you think I am, anyway?” Mabel said.

“Well, at least did you get his autograph?” Pauline said.

“I didn’t have any pencil and paper, damn it all.”

“Tony Martin — gee whiz,” Agnes said.

“Yeah,” Mabel said, shaking her head hopelessly.

Pauline looked at the clock. “I bet the rats don’t show up.”

“They’ll be here.” Agnes looked at her fingernails.

“I can imagine what’s gonna come tramping into this house,” Mabel said.

“I’m getting nervous,” Pauline said. “Suppose they turn out to be a bunch of hooligans.”

“So what are they gonna steal?” Agnes said. “There’s nothing in this house worth stealing.”

“Not even you,” Mabel grinned.

“You can go straight to hell,” Agnes said, burning.

“Oh, whaddya getting sore about?” Pauline said.

“She’s always making remarks,” Agnes crackled. “Who does she think she is? She’s no Miss America. She ain’t got no room to talk.”

“Don’t be so sensitive,” Mabel said.

“You say a lot of things that you shouldn’t say, Mabel,” said Pauline.

“Don’t tell me how to run my life,” Mabel said.

They started to argue. They were yelling. They were calling each other a lot of names. The three of them sat there, close together, leaning toward each other and yelling.

The fourth sat alone.

She sat in a far corner of the room, where it was dark.

She felt very low.

Her family had moved to this neighborhood less than two weeks ago. She lived four houses away from Agnes Donahue. Her father was unemployed and he was hoping to get a job in an auto-body plant. The family had been on relief for a long time. The father was a good welder but the factories in that small town had closed long ago and since then the family had been on relief. Finally the father managed to borrow enough money to bring his wife and children to the big city.

The girl sat in the dark corner of the small living room and thought of her father. She thought of her tired mother. She thought of her kid sister and her little brother. Monday morning she was going to get up real early and go look for a job. She was a high school graduate and maybe she could find something. She had to bring some money into the house. She had to find something. This was a big city and there must be something for her to do and she had to go out and find it. But everything was so new. Everything was so different from what she had known in the little town.

Three days after they had moved into the little house down the street, she was standing outside, getting a bit of air. All morning and well into the afternoon she had been working in the house, working hard, helping her mother to make the place clean. She was very tired and she was standing outside, leaning against the grey brick wall, and looking at two little kids playing on the other side of the street. A girl came up and said hello and introduced herself as Agnes Donahue. She got to talking with Agnes, and then Agnes said it was a shame, not doing anything on a Saturday night, and just moving in like this, to a new city that was so big after living in a small town and all. And Agnes invited her to the big party for Saturday night. At first she hesitated. Then she was thinking that the word party was something new to her. At least, it had been such a long time since she had been to a party, a big party like this was going to be.

She sat there, looking at the big party.

Mabel was saying, “And at least when I borrow something I return it.”

Agnes yelled, “Are you making insinuations?”

Mabel said, “Listen, kiddo, you can take it any way you want to.”

Agnes screamed, “You can search this house from cellar to roof and if you find that hair curler I’ll give you the whole house!”

The girl who sat in the far corner of the small living room was looking at the door. She wanted to get up and go out. She wanted to go home. Maybe her mother was working in the kitchen. Maybe she should be helping her mother. But she remembered her mother telling her that the house was all clean now and she should forget about the house and go to the party and have a good time. A good time at the big party.

She was twenty-three years old. Her hair was a smoky yellow, almost the same color as her eyes. Her skin was soft and clear and clean. But she didn’t have any color in her cheeks. She was sort of pale. The only cosmetic she had on was a bit of lipstick. It was more orange than red. And she wore an orange dress. She had made it herself. It was a simple, plain dress, in subdued, simple orange. Her name was Edna Daly.

She sat there, looking at the big party.

Mabel said, “Now don’t say things like that, Agnes. You know they’re not true.”

“Don’t you call me a liar,” Agnes said.

Edna stared at the torn carpet. She wanted to go home.

The doorbell rang. Agnes got up and hurried to the door. Pauline quickly fixed her hair. Mabel ran her tongue over her lips. The door opened. Agnes was saying hello. She was leading the way into the living room and the four young men followed her. They stood there, looking at the girls. The girls looked back at them. Nobody smiled. Then Dippy said to Agnes, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Dippy said.

His friends laughed. The girls didn’t laugh. Agnes frowned and started to burn. She said, “What do you call that, a smart remark?”

“More or less,” Dippy said.

Agnes looked Dippy up and down. A disgusted expression flowed over her features. Standing behind Dippy, his friends were laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Mabel said.

“Nothing’s funny,” Ken said. “We’re just happy, that’s all.”

“What do you have to be so happy about?” Pauline said angrily.

Dippy said, “We’re happy to be here with all you good-looking girls.”

“You wouldn’t kid me, would you?” Agnes said.

“I never kid anybody,” Dippy said.

Mabel looked at Pauline. And Pauline was looking at Ken. She got up fast and made a beeline for Ken. Mabel followed and started toward George. She tripped over a flap in the rug and fell on her face. Agnes let out a shriek of laughter. Mabel got up very slowly, glaring at Agnes. George helped her to her feet. She turned and smiled at George and said, “Thank you — what is your name?”