John Passos - Manhattan transfer

‘And what does Mr Oglethorpe… ? Oh but that’s impertinent of me… Do forgive me Elaine. I’m almost cwazy. I don’t know what I’m saying.’

‘Oh Jojo’s a dear. He’s even going to let me divorce him if I want to… Would you if you were me?’ Without waiting for an answer she disappeared between the folding doors. Cassie remained hunched up on the edge of the couch.

Ellen came back with a blue teapot in one hand and a pan of steaming water in the other. ‘Do you mind not having lemon or cream? There’s some sugar on the mantelpiece. These cups are clean because I just washed them. Dont you think they are pretty? Oh you cant imagine how wonderful and domestic it makes you feel to have a place all to yourself. I hate living in a hotel. Honestly this place makes me just so domestic… Of course the ridiculous thing is that I’ll probably have to give it up or sublet as soon as I’ve got it decently fixed up. Show’s going on the road in three weeks. I want to get out of it but Harry Goldweiser wont let me.’ Cassie was taking little sips of tea out of her spoon. She began to cry softly. ‘Why Cassie buck up, what’s the matter?’

‘Oh, you’re so lucky in everything Elaine and I’m so miserable.’

‘Why I always thought it was my jinx that got the beautyprize, but what is the matter?’

Cassie put down her cup and pushed her two clenched hands into her neck. ‘It’s just this,’ she said in a strangled voice… ‘I think I’m going to have a baby.’ She put her head down on her knees and sobbed.

‘Are you sure? Everybody’s always having scares.’

‘I wanted our love to be always pure and beautiful, but he said he’d never see me again if I didn’t… and I hate him.’ She shook the words out one by one between tearing sobs.

‘Why don’t you get married?’

‘I cant. I wont. It would interfere.’

‘How long since you knew?’

‘Oh it must have been ten days ago easily. I know it’s that… I dont want to have anything but my dancing.’ She stopped sobbing and began taking little sips of tea again.

Ellen walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. ‘Look here Cassie there’s no use getting all wrought up over things, is there? I know a woman who’ll help you… Do pull yourself together please.’

‘Oh I couldn’t, I couldn’t.’… The saucer slid off her knees and broke in two on the floor. ‘Tell me Elaine have you ever been through this?… Oh I’m so sowy. I’ll buy you another saucer Elaine.’ She got totteringly to her feet and put the cup and spoon on the mantelpiece.

‘Oh of course I have. When we were first married I had a terrible time…’

‘Oh Elaine isn’t it hideous all this? Life would be so beautiful and free and natural without it… I can feel the howor of it cweeping up on me, killing me.’

‘Things are rather like that,’ said Ellen gruffly.

Cassie was crying again. ‘Men are so bwutal and selfish.’

‘Have another cup of tea, Cassie.’

‘Oh I couldn’t. My dear I feel a deadly nausea… Oh I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘The bathroom is right through the folding doors and to the left.’

Ellen walked up and down the room with clenched teeth. I hate women. I hate women.

After a while Cassie came back into the room, her face greenish white, dabbing her forehead with a washrag.

‘Here lie down here you poor kid,’ said Ellen clearing a space on the couch. ‘… Now you’ll feel much better.’

‘Oh will you ever forgive me for causing all this twouble?’

‘Just lie still a minute and forget everything.’

‘Oh if I could only relax.’

Ellen’s hands were cold. She went to the window and looked out. A little boy in a cowboy suit was running about the yard waving an end of clothesline. He tripped and fell. Ellen could see his face puckered with tears as he got to his feet again. In the yard beyond a stumpy woman with black hair was hanging out clothes. Sparrows were chirping and fighting on the fence.

‘Elaine dear could you let me have a little powder? I’ve lost my vanity case.’

She turned back into the room. ‘I think… Yes there’s some on the mantelpiece… Do you feel better now Cassie?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Cassie in a trembly voice. ‘And have you got a lipstick?’

‘I’m awfully sorry… I’ve never worn any street makeup. I’ll have to soon enough if I keep on acting.’ She went into the alcove to take off her kimono, slipped on a plain green dress, coiled up her hair and pushed a small black hat down over it. ‘Let’s run along Cassie. I want to have something to eat at six… I hate bolting my dinner five minutes before a performance.’

‘Oh I’m so tewified… Pwomise you wont leave me alone.’

‘Oh she wouldnt do anything today… She’ll just look you over and maybe give you something to take… Let’s see, have I got my key?’

‘We’ll have to take a taxi. And my dear I’ve only got six dollars in the world.’

‘I’ll make daddy give me a hundred dollars to buy furniture. That’ll be all right.’

‘Elaine you’re the most angelic cweature in the world… You deserve every bit of your success.’

At the corner of Sixth Avenue they got into a taxi.

Cassie’s teeth were chattering. ‘Please let’s go another time. I’m too fwightened to go now.’

‘My dear child it’s the only thing to do.’

Joe Harland, puffing on his pipe, pulled to and bolted the wide quaking board gates. A last splash of garnetcolored sunlight was fading on the tall housewall across the excavation. Blue arms of cranes stood out dark against it. Harland’s pipe had gone out, he stood puffing at it with his back to the gate looking at the files of empty wheelbarrows, the piles of picks and shovels, the little shed for the donkeyengine and the steam drills that sat perched on a split rock like a mountaineer’s shack. It seemed to him peaceful in spite of the rasp of traffic from the street that seeped through the hoarding. He went into the leanto by the gate where the telephone was, sat down in the chair, knocked out, filled and lit his pipe and spread the newspaper out on his knees. CONTRACTORS PLAN LOCKOUT TO ANSWER BUILDERS’ STRIKE. He yawned and threw back his head. The light was too blue-dim to read. He sat a long time staring at the stub scarred toes of his boots. His mind was a fuzzy comfortable blank. Suddenly he saw himself in a dress-suit wearing a top hat with an orchid in his buttonhole. The Wizard of Wall Street looked at the lined red face and the gray hair under the mangy cap and the big hands with their grimy swollen knuckles and faded with a snicker. He remembered faintly the smell of a Corona-Corona as he reached into the pocket of the peajacket for a can of Prince Albert to refill his pipe. ‘What dif does it make I’d like to know?’ he said aloud. When he lit a match the night went suddenly inky all round. He blew out the match. His pipe was a tiny genial red volcano that made a discreet cluck each time he pulled on it. He smoked very slowly inhaling deep. The tall buildings all round were haloed with ruddy glare from streets and electriclight signs. Looking straight up through glimmering veils of reflected light he could see the blueblack sky and stars. The tobacco was sweet. He was very happy.

A glowing cigarend crossed the door of the shack. Harland grabbed his lantern and went out. He held the lantern up in the face of a blond young man with a thick nose and lips and a cigar in the side of his mouth.

‘How did you get in here?’

‘Side door was open.’

‘The hell it was? Who are you looking for?’

‘You the night watchman round here?’ Harland nodded. ‘Glad to meet yez.… Have a cigar. I jus wanted to have a little talk wid ye, see?… I’m organizer for Local 47, see? Let’s see your card.’