David Goodis - The Blonde on the Street Corner

“No. I forgot it.”

She pushed him toward the house. On the steps he stopped. Then she opened the door and pushed him into the house. She closed the door fast.

“Now,” she said.

He looked at the floor. He looked at her eyes and then he looked at the floor again and he said, “You waited for me.”

“Yes.”

“You knew I was going to be here.”

“Come in the kitchen. You’re cold. I’ll make tea.”

“Oh, no.”

“I want some for myself anyway. If you don’t want any you can watch me.”

He followed her into the kitchen.

She made tea. As the water boiled she said, “Do you like it without lemon or without cream?”

“Without lemon,” he said.

They smiled at each other.

They sat at the small table, sipping tea.

“You needed this,” she said. “You’re not cold now, are you?”

“No.”

“Ralph, if I hadn’t come outside, were you going to walk away?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do. Tell me.”

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what? Not afraid of me?”

“Not exactly”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know, Edna. I just don’t know.”

“Ralph—”

They were looking at each other, forgetting the tea.

“Did you know I was outside?” he said.

“No … I–I don’t think so … no, of course, I didn’t know you were outside.”

“Well then, what made you come out?”

“I just wanted to … I don’t know, Ralph. I just sort of put on my coat. Felt like going outside, or… no, I didn’t really. I don’t know. I went outside, and I don’t know why. I didn’t know you were out there, and I don’t know why I went out.”

“I can’t understand it,” he said.

“Neither can I.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What, Ralph?”

“Well, me, standing there, wanting to go away. I didn’t even want to come down here in the first place. I went out of the house — I don’t even remember where I went. But I started to walk. I just kept on walking. I didn’t know I was coming here. I didn’t know that I forgot to take my overcoat. I was on this street—”

“You walked all the way?”

“I didn’t fly.”

“And you walked the entire distance.”

“When I saw your house, I realized where I was. I wanted to go away.”

“Why are you so afraid?”

“Edna — I don’t know.”

“You do know. You won’t tell me.”

He was looking at her and looking away and looking at her again. He stood up. He looked at the floor. He looked around the room, wildly, as if he was searching for a channel of flight.

“I gotta be going,” he said.

He walked out of the room, and through the small house, and he was almost running as he neared the front door. And she was running after him, and he stopped, and turned around.

She said, “Please don’t go away from me.”

He looked at her and looked at the floor and looked at her again. “Take care of yourself,” he said. It sounded odd to him.

The front door was open and he was walking down the steps. Edna stood in the doorway. She said, “I hope someday you’ll come back.”

George carried a battered suitcase into Ken’s house.

Ken laughed.

“What’s so funny?” George said.

“You look like one of these guys that just got off Ellis Island.”

“That’s just the way I feel,” George said. “Is the coast clear?”

“Clear as glass,” Ken said. “My parents left for Vineland less than an hour ago. And they’ll stay three weeks if they stay a day.”

“Did they leave you anything?”

“Yeah, the house.”

“I mean something in the icebox, or a few bucks.”

“Of course not. Don’t be a fool.”

George scratched his head. “How are we gonna live?”

Ken glared at him disgustedly. “We’re gonna take berries off the trees,” he said. He bit open a pack of cigarettes, and he and George lit up. “Dippy’s smuggling some food out of his house and he’s bringing it over here. At least we’ll eat tonight. Tomorrow I’m calling up my sister in West Philly and tell her to come across with a fin unless she wants her brother to starve to death. Look, I want to show you something.”

He took George into the next room, and he opened up the bottom drawer of the china closet. In the drawer were three bottles of Irish whiskey and a bottle of gin.

“That looks good,” George said.

“My old man slipped up. Usually he watches that stuff like a hawk. But this time he forgot to take it along with him. Next time he’ll know better.” Ken laughed.

“You’re not gonna open the bottles, are you?”

“Now what do you think?” Ken said. “We got a big party here tonight, son. We’re gonna have a bar and all, and if we need more liquor, we’ll send the servants out—”

“Sure,” George said.

They laughed.

Ken sat down at the piano and started to play his new tune. He reached on top the piano and took the paper on which were written the lyrics. He started to sing.

“That’s not bad,” George said.

“I never knew Ralph could do stuff like this,” Ken said.

He banged hard on the piano and sang in a cracked voice.

Dippy walked in. He said, “Good morning, men.” He carried a paper bag. George and Ken leaped at the bag. There were four slices of white bread. There were three cans of peaches.

Ken looked at the labels on the cans. “Peaches,” he said. “Now what the hell are we gonna do with peaches?”

“Eat them,” Dippy said.

“Four pieces of bread and three cans of peaches.” Ken glared at the label on the can.

“You can make peach sandwiches,” Dippy said.

George laughed.

“Peaches and bread.” Ken mumbled.

“Not necessarily,” Dippy said.

“All right, brains. Let’s hear a wise remark now,” Ken snapped.

Dippy said, “We’ll go up to Broad Street. My mother buys her stuff at the big market up there. I’ll take the peaches in and say that I bought four cans yesterday and that I opened one can and found a lot of worms in there. I’ll become indignant. I’ll ask for something else in return for the peaches.”

“Sometimes this guy’s a wizard,” George said.

They went up to Broad Street and Dippy made his protest. In exchange for the peaches he received two cans of soup and a loaf of bread. The three of them hurried back to Ken’s house and feasted. When they were puffed with the soup and the bread, Ken showed Dippy the liquor.

“Now we’ll have cocktails,” Dippy said.

“You fool you. They don’t drink cocktails after they eat. They drink them before,” Ken said.

“What’s the difference?” Dippy said.

Ken opened the bottle of gin. He said, “Straight gin is the correct thing to drink after eating. Anybody who knows anything about it will tell you that. You gotta know how to live.”

He poured three glasses of gin.

“This tastes like perfume,” Dippy said.

“You’re not kidding,” George said.

Ken glared at them. “A lot you guys know about it,” he said. “The whole trouble is, you don’t know how to drink. You’re not drinking men.”

“I know how to drink,” Dippy said. “I put it in my mouth and let it go down my throat. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s how much you know,” Ken said.

“You tell us about it,” George said.

They were in the living room, smoking cigarettes. George turned on the radio. Jazz pumped out.

“Where’s Ralph?” George said.

Ken shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Is he coming tonight?” Dippy said.