John Steinbeck - Sweet Thursday

Becky said, “She won’t. She loves to shoot off her face.”

“She damn well better learn to shut up or she won’t be no gold star,” said Fauna. “That’s a good idea about the horoscope. When’s your birthday, Suzy?”

“February twenty-third.”

“What time was you born?”

“God knows, but I think it was leap year.”

Agnes said, “I bet she was born at night. I can always tell.”

Fauna went into her room and brought back a chart and pinned it to the wall. And she brought out her schoolroom pointer again. “Now this here’s you, Pisces—that’s fish.”

Suzy said, “You mean I’m fish?”

“You’re fish,” said Fauna.

“I don’t believe a goddam word of it. I don’t even like fish,” Suzy said. “Why, hell, I break out if I look at a fish!”

“Don’t look at them then,” said Fauna. “But if you ain’t lied about your birthday you’re fish. Now let’s see—fish is to Jupiter, carry two in the Saturn, and three left over in the House of Venus—”

“I don’t believe none of it,” Suzy said.

Fauna looked up from her figuring. “Tell her some of that stuff I done, Mabel.”

Mabel said, “I seen her do wonderful stuff. I had a pup one time. Fauna, she done a horoscope on him. It says on that pup’s third birthday, ten o’clock, he’s going explode.”

Suzy asked, “Did he?”

“Well, no. Something went haywire with the chart, I guess. Ten o’clock on that dog’s third birthday he caught fire. I was taking a lemon rinse.”

“You could use one now,” Fauna said.

“What caught him on fire?” Suzy asked.

“He just caught. Spontaneous something or other. He was a pretty good dog but he wasn’t very bright. Never could house-break him. He used to wet on Joe Elegant.”

Suzy said, “I bet Joe Elegant set him on fire.”

“That’s a lie!” said Mabel. “Joe Elegant was in the hospital.”

Suddenly Fauna clapped her hands to her brow. “God Almighty!”

“What is it?” said Becky. “What’s the matter?”

Fauna said impressively, “Suzy, you know what you’re going to marry? You’re going to marry a Cancer!”

“Thought you caught it,” said Suzy. “I didn’t know you had to marry it.”

“Don’t get funny,” said Fauna. “Cancer, that’s a crab—and that’s also July. Now you just think—who works with crabs and stuff like that?”

Becky said, “Joe Anguro’s fish market.”

Fauna exploded, “Doc! And if his birthday’s in July he’s a gone goose. Agnes, when’s Doc’s birthday?”

“I don’t know. Mack’s gonna ask him.”

“Well, we’ll have to find out. Can’t let him know why we want to know.”

Agnes said, “Mack will find out. Mack’s used to hustling Doc.”

“Well, I want to know right away. Now you young ladies get some sleep, you hear me? You know what’s coming in today?” Fauna stuck the pencil in her hair. “A great big fat juicy destroyer! And you know what day it is?”

The girls spoke in a chorus. “Lord-God-Almighty,” they said, “payday!”

It took Fauna about five minutes to put up her hair and then she was ready to make her final rounds to see that the garbage was out and all the lights turned off. In the dark Ready Room she saw a glowing cigarette.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Me,” said Suzy.

“Why ain’t you in bed?”

“I was thinking.”

“Now I know you’ll never make a hustler. What you thinking about, your horoscope?”

“Yeah.”

“You like Doc, huh?”

“I put the knife in him. He made me mad.”

“Whyn’t you let me handle it?” said Fauna. “I think I could maybe get him for you.”

“He don’t want a wife, and if he did, he don’t want nobody like me.”

“People don’t know what they want,” said Fauna. “They got to be pushed. Why would guys in their right mind want to get married? But they do.”

“Maybe they fall in love,” said Suzy.

“Yeah—and that’s the worst that can happen. Know something, Suzy? When a man falls in love it’s ninety to one he falls for the dame that’s worst for him. That’s why I take matters in my own hands.”

“How do you mean?” Suzy asked.

“Well, when a guy picks out a dame for himself he’s in love with something in himself that hasn’t got nothing to do with the dame. She looks like his mother, or she’s dark and he’s scared of blondes, or maybe he’s getting even with somebody, or maybe he ain’t quite sure he’s a man and has to prove it. Fella that studied stuff like that told me one time—a man don’t fall for a dame. He falls for new roses, and he brings his own new roses. The best marriages are the ones pulled off by someone that’s smart but not sucked in. I think you’d be good for Doc.”

“Why?”

“Because you ain’t like him. You want I should try?”

“No,” said Suzy. “I wouldn’t sandbag no guy. Especially Doc.”

“Everybody sandbags everybody,” said Fauna.

Suzy said softly, “You know, you was right, Fauna. I was sixteen when it happened. But you know, he talked to me like I was a girl. I can’t even remember how it sounds—talked to like a girl.”

Fauna put her hand on Suzy’s shoulder. “Maybe you’ll find out again,” she said. “If I pull this off I’ll put a red ring around your gold star. You ready to go to sleep now?”

“I guess so,” said Suzy. “Let’s don’t sandbag Doc.”

Suzy waited until Fauna had rustled to her bed and then she crept out the front door. The light was still burning in Western Biological. She went across the street, past the street light, and up the stairs, and she tapped with her fingertips. Doc didn’t answer. She opened the door and saw him sitting at his table, his eyes red, the glass dishes in front of him. He looked very tired and the skin above his beard was gray.

“You’re working late,” she said.

“Yes. You made me ruin the first set. I had to do it over. It takes time.”

“I’m sorry. Doc, you got to write that paper. I don’t know nothing about it, but you got to write it.”

“I think you were right the first time,” he said. “Maybe I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” said Suzy. “You can do anything you want to.”

“Maybe that’s it. Maybe I don’t want to.”

“I want you to.”

“What have you got to do with it?”

Suzy blushed and looked at her fingers for an answer. “Everybody wants you to,” she said. “You’ll let everybody down if you don’t do it.”

He laughed. “That’s not a good reason, Suzy.”

She tried another tack. “Everybody hates a coward—”

“If I’m a coward, whose business is it?”

“You got to write it, Doc.”

“I won’t!”

“I’d help you if I could.”

“What in the world could you do?”

Her face flamed. “Maybe give you a kick in the ass. Maybe that’s what you need.”

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” he said. And then, “Goddam it! You’ve done it again—you made me pass over the time!”

“You done it yourself,” said Suzy, “you lousy stiff! You blame everybody else. You done it yourself.”

“Get on back to the whore house!” he shouted. “Go on! Get out!”

In the doorway she stopped and looked back. “God, how I hate a fool!” she said, and she slammed the door behind her.

In a moment there was a tap on the glass.

“Go on home!” Doc shouted.

Mack opened the door. “It ain’t Suzy, it’s me.”

“You were listening.”

“No, I wasn’t. Say, Doc, would you say a piece of property on Cannery Row was a good investment?”

“No,” said Doc.

“She’s quite a dame,” said Mack.