Mavis Gallant - The Pegnitz Junction

“Please lower your voice,” she said. “We aren’t playing. We have every right to sit where we choose, and the child has a right to his toy.”

“Sponge,” said little Bert. “Not toy.”

The conductor leaned over them, his face so near that she could see specks of gold in his brown eyes. He said, “You won’t say bad things about me, will you?”

“To the stationmaster? I’m not sure.”

“No, to anyone. If anyone asks.”

“You were rude a moment ago,” she reminded him.

“But I was kind on the train. I let you keep the window open when we went through the fire zone.” True enough, but had he really been kind ? “You’ll testify for me, then?” he said. “If you are asked?”

“What about these passengers?” she said, meaning the other women. “You were making faces — scaring them. They’re still frightened.” Indeed, some of them looked positively ill with terror. However, now that Christine had shown him up he was unlikely to begin playing again; the game would have no point. “Perhaps you would like to find out about our train?” she said. “The child is quite tired.”

He waddled away, either because he was anxious to show he was still the harmless creature he had been on the train, or because she had alarmed him and he wanted to escape.

“Read, now,” said little Bert. “What happens?”

“I don’t know any more.”

“It’s in your book,” he said.

Dear Ken sorry I haven’t written sooner but you know how it is The girl was still searching for the bus to Pottenstein. Or perhaps she had given it up, couldn’t face the family, knew the letter was hopeless as evidence. It was faint and faded now — committed to a dull mind, to no real purpose. A mush like a mixture of snow and ashes surrounded the information. I suppose several people figure I squared up on you I don’t think you thought that I came to within a hair of getting busted and for all practical purposes I did get busted when I got to the airport I was still tripppping

I went to the restroom to change I didn ’ t have a poplin shirt or a tie it took me a long time to get myself together

I looked like something from woodstock with a uniform on do you remember the guy in munich who tried to get us to go to his car well, I met him in the restroom he had gotten scared about bringing it into the states so he was trying to get rid of it he was in bad shape too I processed out with him as I was

“Why aren’t you reading?” said little Bert. Only stubbornness still kept him awake.

“There’s too much interference,” she said. “I’m waiting for it to stop.”

going through the customs line there were three guys ahead of me they searched the first guy as if they thought he had a ton of smack they asked him to empty his pockets

well, when I saw this the first thing I did was turn white, the second thing I did was fall out of line and look for a place to get rid of what I had on me the room was full of people

I sat down on the convair belt that brought our bags into the room there I took it out of my pockets and put it under the belt, never to see it again I ran back and got in line

I was next by then the guy took one look at me and knew I was scared to death he went over me with a fine-tooth comb and I was never so glad not to have it on me in my life we left there and went to ft dix it was about 9:00 pm they took our records and sent us to bed next morning we got up cleaned the barracks and went on police call after that we turned in to supply one set of greens, one poplin shirt, one overcoat, one field jacket I didn’t have any of this and it didn’t matter that ’ s all you have to have and they don’t care if you have it or not after that you get a lot of crap about being a veteran, some of which is good to know then you go and get paid and that’s the last thing

after I was paid I took a cab to the airport. there I went to the rest room removed my uniform threw it in the trashcan, dressed went back up and got a ticket to Toledo where my mother lives I stayed with her for two weeks trying to decide what I was going to do next first I thought of sending you the 170 I owe you getting a job, but things were so screwed up there I had to leave or go crazy you will see what I mean when you get out you won’t believe it it’s like being in a crazy house here and you are the only one sane

so I left and came here the trip cost me about 150

I ’ ve spent some money since I ’ ve been out here and I have about 42 now I ’ ve been looking for a job every day I ’ ve been offered a lot of jobs most of them are 80 or 90 a week clear the reason I haven ’ t taken any of them is they don ’ t pay enough you draw 65 clear a week drawing unemployment so working forty hours you only draw 15 more a week

no one is giving the good jobs right now because the economy is slow the only thing I have to pay besides you is 12 a week to my sister for staying here so I’ll be sending you money every week until I get you paid off it really sucks living here with my sister and her husband he’s a nice guy but he and my sister are really concerned over me and they think I ’ m a great guy and when I ’ m here with them they never leave me alone they ’ re great, it ’ s just that they get on my nerves you’ll understand this better once you get out

when you come over we could take a place together

write and tell me if the junk you had was good or not and how you all came out on it don ’ t bring any back with you — mail it it ’ s like gold here my other advice is get out of the army first and forget about her. Once you ’ re out she can ’ t touch you tell her you want to find a job first

you ’ re crazy if you do it any other way tell her you can ’ t support a family till you ’ re twenty-one (joke) I hope we can get together after you get out answer this letter right away tomorrow I’m going to get some grass I’ll send you some good luck Ken love PS it ’ s 80° and I’m going to the beach

“Is it finished?” said little Bert.

“I suppose so. Though nothing is ever finished,” said Christine. She had been disappointed by both the substance and quality of this information.

“You never finished a story,” little Bert said.

“I realize that. I’m sorry.” He did not reply; living with adults had accustomed him as much to apologies as to promises.

She was always running , Herbert complained suddenly. She streaked off like a hare. I went after. She doubled back. I tripped and fell. There we were, together. She seemed confident and competent, and I thought she did not need to be looked after. I must have dozed off. She woke me quite roughly saying, “You are supposed to be awake and making decisions . You are the man. That ’ s how I ’ ve always heard it was played.” The day she left she cut a lock of the child ’ s hair. It was flaxen then. She took it close to the roots along the hairline. Destructive. Careless. When she needed money she sent the lock back to me. I understood immediately, sent money to a post-office address which was all she gave me, and returned the lock as well. After long-distance dialling was installed in the remotest villages she took to calling me late at night, never from the same place twice. So she said. Other people paid, without knowing it. You could tell she had her hand around the mouthpiece. She would say a few words and laugh. I never knew what she wanted. One night I heard, “Do you still love me?” I thought for a long time, wanting to give her a complete answer. After a while I said, “Are you still there?” She called again late in the winter. I said, “The answer to your last question is yes.” She hung up quietly. Then silence. She was twenty-six, would now be twenty-eight .