Irwin Shaw - Rich Man, Poor Man

‘Somebody called Boylan,’ Rudolph said.

‘Oh’ Gretchen touched Willie’s arm. ‘I think I’d like a beer, too, Willie.’ She got up and went over to the bag. ‘A present. Isn’t that nice?’ She picked up the bag and put it on a table and opened it. When she saw what was in the bag, she knew that she had known all along: She held the dress up against her. ‘I didn’t remember that it was so red,’ she said calmly.

‘Holy Man,’ Willie said.

Rudolph was watching them closely, first one, then the other.

‘A memento of my depraved youth,’ Gretchen said. She patted Rudolph’s arm. That’s all right, Rudy,’ she said. ‘Willie knows about Mr Boylan. Everything.’

‘I will shoot him down like a dog,’ Willie said. ‘On sight. I’m sorry I turned in my B 17.’

‘Should I keep it, Willie?’ Gretchen asked doubtfully.

‘Of course. Unless it fits Boylan better than it fits you.’

Gretchen put the dress down. How come he got you to deliver it?’ she asked Rudolph.

‘I happened to meet him,’ Rudolph said. ‘I see him from time to time. I didn’t give him your address, so he asked me…’

Tell him I’m most grateful,’ Gretchen said: Tell him I’ll mink of him when I wear it.’

‘You can tell him yourself, if you want,’ Rudolph said. ‘He drove me down. He’s in a bar on Eighth Street, waiting for me now.’

“Why don’t we all go and have a drink with the bugger?’ Willie said.

‘I don’t want to have a drink with, him,’ Gretchen said.

‘Should I tell him that?’ Rudolph asked.

‘Yes.’

Rudolph stood up. I’d better go,’ he said. ‘I told him I’d be right back.’

Gretchen stood, too. ‘Don’t forget the bag,’ she said.

‘He said for you to keep it’

‘I don’t want it.’ Gretchen handed the smart little leather bag to her brother. He seemed reluctant to take it. “Rudy,’ she said curiously, ‘do you see much of Boylan?’

‘A couple of times a week.’

‘You like him?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Rudy said. ‘He’s teaching me a lot’

‘Be careful,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry.’ Rudolph put out his hand to Willie. ‘Goodbye,’ he said. Thanks for the beer.’

Willie shook his hand warmly. ‘Now you know where we are,’ he said, ‘come and see us. I mean it’

‘I will,’ Rudolph said.

Gretchen kissed him. I hate to see you run off like this.’

‘I’ll come to New York soon,’ Rudolph said. I promise.’

Gretchen opened the door for him. He seemed to want to say something more, but finally he just waved, a small troubled movement of his hand, and went down the stairs, carrying the bag. Gretchen closed the door slowly.

‘He’s nice, your brother,’ Willie said. ‘I wish I looked like that’

‘You look good enough,’ Gretchen said. She kissed him. ‘I haven’t kissed you for ages.’

‘Six long hours,’ Willie said. They kissed again.

‘Six long hours,’ she said, smiling. ‘Please be home every time I come home.’

‘Ill make a point of it’ Willie said. He picked up the red dress and examined it critically. ‘Your brother’s awfully grownup for a kid that age.’

Too, maybe.’

‘Why do you say that?’ ‘I don’t know.’ She took a sip of beer. ‘He figures things out too carefully.’ She thought of her father’s unlikely generosity towards Rudolph, of her mother standing at night over an ironing board doing Rudolph’s shirts. He collects on his intelligence.’

‘Good for him,’ Willie said. ‘I wish I could collect on mine.’

“What did you two talk about before I came?’ she asked.

‘We praised you.’

‘Okay, okay, aside from that?’

‘He asked me about my work. I guess he wondered what his sister’s feller was doing home in the middle of the afternoon while his sister was out earning her daily bread. I hope I put his fears to rest.’

Willie had a job on a new magazine that a friend of his had just started. It was a magazine devoted to radio and a lot of Willie’s work consisted of listening to daytime programmes and he preferred listening to mem at home rather than in the little cramped office of the magazine. He was making ninety dollars a week and with her sixty they got along well enough, although they usually found themselves broke by the end of the week, because Willie liked to eat out in restaurants and stay up late in bars.

‘Did you tell him you were a playwright, too?’ Gretchen said.

‘No. I’ll leave him to find that out for himself. Some day.’

Willie hadn’t shown her his play yet. He only had an act and a half done and he was going to rewrite that completely.

Willie draped the dress against his front and walked like a model, with an exaggerated swing of the hips. .‘Sometimes I wonder what sort of a girl I would have made. What do you think?’

‘No,’ she said.

Try it on. Let’s see what it looks like.’ He gave her the dress. She took it and went into the bedroom because there was a full-length mirror there on the back of a closet door. She had made the bed neatly before leaving the house, but the bedcover was mussed. Willie had taken a nap after lunch. They had been living together only a little over two months but she had amassed a private treasury of Willie’s habits. His clothes were strewn all over the room. His corset was lying on the floor near the window. Gretchen smiled as she took off her sweater and skirt. She found Willie’s childish disorder endearing. She liked picking up after him.

She zipped up the dress with difficulty. She had only put it on twice before, once in the shop and once in Boylan’s bedroom, to model it for Boylan. She had never really worn it. She looked at herself critically in the mirror. She had the feeling that the lacy top exposed too much of her bosom. Her reflection in the red dress was that of an older woman, New Yorkish, certain of her attractions, a woman ready to enter any room, disdainful of all competition. She let her hair down so that it flowed darkly over her shoulders. It had been piled up in a practical knot on top of her head for the day’s work.

After a last look as herself she went back into the livingroom. Willie was opening another bottle of beer. He whistled when he saw her. ‘You scare me,’ he said.

She pirouetted, making the skirt flare out. ‘Do you think I dare wear it?’ she said. ‘Isn’t it a little naked?’

‘Dee-vine,’ Willie drawled. ‘It is the perfectly designed dress. It is designed to make every* man want to take you out of it immediately.’ He came over to her. ‘Suiting action to the thought,’ he said, ‘the gentleman unzips the lady.’ He pulled at the zipper and lifted the dress over her head. His hands were cold from the beer bottle and she shivered momentarily. What are we doing in this room-‘ he said

They went into the bedroom and undressed quickly. The one time she had put on the dress for Boylan they had done the same thing. There was no avoiding echoes.

Willie made love to her sweetly and gently, almost as though she were frail and breakable. Once, in the middle of lovemaking the word respectfully had crossed her consciousness and she chuckled. She didn’t tell Willie what had caused the chuckle. She was very different with Wile than with Boylan, Boylan had overcome her, obliterated her. It had been an intense and ferocious ceremony of destruction, a tournament, with winners and losers. After Boylan, she had come back into herself like someone returning from a long voyage, resentful of the rape of personality that had taken place. With Willie the act was tender and dear and sinless. It was part of the flow of their lives together, everyday and natural. There was none of

that sense of dislocation, abandonment, that Boylan had inflicted upon her and that she had hungered for so fiercely. Quite often she did not come with Willie, but it made no difference.