Evan Connell - Mr. Bridge

He realized that she had not recognized the name so he told her who it was. She often parked in the garage while she was downtown shopping.

“Oh, my word!” she exclaimed, drawing back with a shocked expression. “Oh, I simply can’t believe it!”

“I didn’t either.”

“He seemed so nice.”

“Yes, he was,” Mr. Bridge said. “He certainly was. He was one of the nicest and most dependable Negroes I have ever known.”

“Do you suppose you could help?”

“I doubt if I could do much. Apparently he’s got a temper and now he’s got to pay for it. Furthermore, I cannot afford to get mixed up in something like this.”

“He was always so helpful. It’s such a shame.”

“Those people!” Mr. Bridge said, shaking his head. “Time and time again. If it isn’t a knife, it’s a razor.”

About a month after Lester dropped from sight Mr. Bridge was in his study rewriting a brief when there came a tap at the door. He recognized it — somewhat like the tapping of a bird, very different from the way the children requested admittance — and told his wife to come in. The door opened halfway. She peeped in, afraid that she was disturbing him. He had never been able to get used to this hesitancy; she behaved as though she were interrupting Einstein. He was at work, true enough, and the door had been shut for a purpose, but still she was his wife and if the matter was important enough for her to interrupt him he wished she would do so with more assertion.

He asked what was on her mind, and she replied that it was about Harriet. Harriet had asked for an advance of twenty-five dollars.

He frowned. Borrowing money was a bad policy. He himself had not had to borrow for quite a few years, not since he first went into practice and had no clients. Borrowing was hateful and degrading, and as a rule the people who wanted to borrow money were just too lazy to earn it. In a nation as prosperous as the United States almost anybody who was willing to work should be able to earn enough to live on. Granted, there were bad times and exceptional circumstances. Anyone could have an accident or be struck by a disease. There were unusual cases, true. But as for Harriet wanting to borrow twenty-five dollars before she was entitled to it, that did not sound reasonable. She must have been squandering money.

Why had she asked for this advance?

Mrs. Bridge did not know.

What became of last month’s salary?

Mrs. Bridge did not know. “I agree with you one hundred per cent about borrowing,” she added, “but I do think it would be a good idea if you spoke to her. She’s never asked for an advance before.”

“I’ll listen to the story,” he said.

And a few moments later Harriet appeared at the door. He told her to come in, and gestured at the leather couch. She seated herself primly, feet together, hands folded in her lap.

“Now, what’s all this about wanting to borrow?”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” said Harriet, “I do wish to request a small sum in advance of my monthly wages. I presume Mrs. Bridge has informed you?”

“She has.”

Then in an obviously rehearsed statement Harriet said, “I ought to make plain it is not a life-or-death proposition. It is simply a matter that I have a number of special items of personal nature I wish to purchase between now and next payday. I was hopeful this could be arranged somehow.”

Mr. Bridge said, “What you do with your money is not my affair, but if you find it necessary to ask for an advance it strikes me that you may not have been handling your money too wisely.”

“Emergencies do crop up,” said Harriet.

“I don’t mind telling you I think it’s a poor policy. Borrowing money is asking for trouble.”

“I fully agree,” Harriet said, sounding very much like Mrs. Bridge. “One can’t help disapproving. However, there is a situation come up the other day which is making life difficult.”

“Oh?”

“May I speak frankly?”

“By all means.”

“Well, if I may say so frankly, this situation I refer to is dislikable even to mention, so I prefer not to get into detail, if you don’t mind.”

“Spare me the details. But under the circumstances I think you had better give me at least a general idea of what this is all about.”

Harriet compressed her lips and frowned at the rug. “Well, as everybody is aware, I have this relationship with Mr. Talbot.”

“I know nothing whatever about your personal life.”

Harriet was still sitting with her ankles pressed together and hands folded. “I am sure you must be acquainted with Mr. Talbot. He has come by the house here a number of evenings my night off to pick me up.”

“Couperin,” Mr. Bridge said. “That’s who you mean.”

“That happens to be Mr. Talbot’s first name, yes.”

“How does he enter into this?”

“Well, I hate to say so on account of our relationship, but if the truth be known he is responsible. This whole thing is on his account, as you see.”

“No,” said Mr. Bridge, “I don’t see.”

“I was about to explain. May I speak frankly?”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, as I was saying, Mr. Talbot and I, we have had this relationship when I am off in the evenings for some time now. I forget just how long, except it has been some time.” She paused and gave him a significant look.

“Go on.”

“I was fixing to. Mr. Talbot he has this unfortunate problem about money and things of that nature, if you follow me. He got this special difficulty keeping his hand out of other people’s pocket. He has got hisself in trouble with the law on that account, along with one or two gentlemen I could name, although they do say he is getting better about it.” She pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her uniform and began fanning herself.

“He has stolen from you, is that what you are telling me?”

“Not precisely.”

“But he has been stealing, has he not?”

“No sir. His friends they sincerely believes he means to pay back. It is just that some is more impatient than others. There is this one friend of his happens to have this extremely bad nature. According to what they say, he has told Mr. Talbot either you gets me that money tomorrow midnight or there is trouble in the road ahead.”

“When did he say this?”

“Well, let me think. That must have been about yesterday, as I recall.”

Mr. Bridge leaned back in his chair. “By midnight tonight, then?”

Harriet nodded miserably.

“The twenty-five dollars you want to borrow is not for yourself, but for this man you run around with. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A few minutes ago you told me it was for personal expenses. You told me there were some items you wished to purchase for yourself. Now you give me a different story. Which am I to believe?”

Harriet was busily patting her forehead with the handkerchief.

“Suppose this twenty-five dollars is not repaid. In your opinion, what will happen?”

“Well, it does come to a bit more than just that.”

“More? More, you say? How much more?”

“Let me think. There is all these claims being made which makes it difficult. However, according to what I hear, it’s likely about a hundred dollars, I believe. Mr. Talbot, though, he claims he still got some of it left yet and we feel if there is twenty-five dollars added to what he has not spent that will do for the time being. In fact, he has talked the situation over with this friend of his and that is the idea.”

“But if neither of you can find the twenty-five dollars?”

“I just don’t know,” Harriet said. “I just don’t know, Mr. Bridge.”