John Passos - Manhattan transfer

‘My God,’ she said, ‘I thought you were the waiter.’

He grabbed her and kissed her. ‘I dont know why but I feel like a threeyear old.’

‘You look like you was crazy with the heat… I dont like you to come over without telephoning, you know that.’

‘You dont mind just this once I forgot.’

Baldwin caught sight of something on the settee; he found himself staring at a pair of darkblue trousers neatly folded.

‘I was feeling awfully fagged down at the office Nevada. I thought I’d come up to talk to you to cheer myself up a bit.’

‘I was just practicing some dancing with the phonograph.’

‘Yes very interesting…’ He began to walk springily up and down. ‘Now look here Nevada… We’ve got to have a talk. I dont care who it is you’ve got in your bedroom.’ She looked suddenly in his face and sat down on the settee beside the trousers. ‘In fact I’ve known for some time that you and Tony Hunter were carrying on.’ She compressed her lips and crossed her legs. ‘In fact all this stuff and nonsense about his having to go to a psychoanalyst at twentyfive dollars an hour amused me enormously… But just this minute I’ve decided I had enough. Quite enough.’

‘George you’re crazy,’ she stammered and then suddenly she began to giggle.

‘I tell you what I’ll do,’ went on Baldwin in a clear legal voice, ‘I’ll send you a check for five hundred, because you’re a nice girl and I like you. The apartment’s paid till the first of the month. Does that suit you? And please never communicate with me in any way.’

She was rolling on the settee giggling helplessly beside the neatly folded pair of darkblue trousers. Baldwin waved his hat and gloves at her and left closing the door very gently behind him. Good riddance, he said to himself as he closed the door carefully behind him.

Down in the street again he began to walk briskly uptown. He felt excited and talkative. He wondered who he could go to see. Telling over the names of his friends made him depressed. He began to feel lonely, deserted. He wanted to be talking to a woman, making her sorry for the barrenness of his life. He went into a cigarstore and began looking through the phonebook. There was a faint flutter in him when he found the H’s. At last he found the name Herf, Helena Oglethorpe.

Nevada Jones sat a long while on the settee giggling hysterically. At length Tony Hunter came in in his shirt and drawers with his bow necktie perfectly tied.

‘Has he gone?’

‘Gone? sure he’s gone, gone for good,’ she shrieked. ‘He saw your damn pants.’

He let himself drop on a chair. ‘O God if I’m not the unluckiest fellow in the world.’

‘Why?’ she sat spluttering with laughter with the tears running down her face.

‘Nothing goes right. That means it’s all off about the matinees.’

‘It’s back to three a day for little Nevada… I dont give a damn… I never did like bein a kept woman.’

‘But you’re not thinking of my career… Women are so selfish. If you hadn’t led me on…’

‘Shut up you little fool. Dont you think I dont know all about you?’ She got to her feet with the kimono pulled tight about her.

‘God all I needed was a chance to show what I could do, and now I’ll never get it,’ Tony was groaning.

‘Sure you will if you do what I tell you. I set out to make a man of you kiddo and I’m goin to do it… We’ll get up an act. Old Hirshbein’ll give us a chance, he used to be kinder smitten… Come on now, I’ll punch you in the jaw if you dont. Let’s start thinkin up… We’ll come in with a dance number see… then you’ll pretend to want to pick me up… I’ll be waitin for a streetcar… see… and you’ll say Hello Girlie an I’ll call Officer.’

‘Is that all right for length sir,’ asked the fitter busily making marks on the trousers with a piece of chalk.

James Merivale looked down at the fitter’s little greenish wizened bald head and at the brown trousers flowing amply about his feet. ‘A little shorter… I think it looks a little old to have trousers too long.’

‘Why hello Merivale I didn’t know you bought your clothes at Brooks’ too. Gee I’m glad to see you.’

Merivale’s blood stood still. He found himself looking straight in the blue alcoholic eyes of Jack Cunningham. He bit his lip and tried to stare at him coldly without speaking.

‘God Almighty, do you know what we’ve done?’ cried out Cunningham. ‘We’ve bought the same suit of clothes… I tell you it’s identically the same.’

Merivale was looking in bewilderment from Cunningham’s brown trousers to his own, the same color, the same tiny stripe of red and faint mottling of green.

‘Good God man two future brothersinlaw cant wear the same suit. People’ll think it’s a uniform… It’s ridiculous.’

‘Well what are we going to do about it?’ Merivale found himself saying in a grumbling tone.

‘We have to toss up and see who gets it that’s all… Will you lend me a quarter please?’ Cunningham turned to his salesman. ‘All right… One toss, you yell.’

‘Heads,’ said Merivale mechanically.

‘The brown suit is yours… Now I’ve got to choose another… God I’m glad we met when we did. Look,’ he shouted out through the curtains of the booth, ‘why dont you have dinner with me tonight at the Salmagundi Club?… I’m going to be dining with the only man in the world who’s crazier about hydroplanes than I am… It’s old man Perkins, you know him, he’s one of the vice-presidents of your bank… And look when you see Maisie tell her I’m coming up to see her tomorrow. An extraordinary series of events has kept me from communicating with her… a most unfortunate series of events that took all my time up to this moment… We’ll talk about it later.’

Merivale cleared his throat. ‘Very well,’ he said dryly.

‘All right sir,’ said the fitter giving Merivale a last tap on the buttocks. He went back into the booth to dress.

‘All right old thing,’ shouted Cunningham, ‘I’ve got to go pick out another suit… I’ll expect you at seven. I’ll have a Jack Rose waiting for you.’

Merivale’s hands were trembling as he fastened his belt. Perkins, Jack Cunningham, the damn blackguard, hydroplanes, Jack Cunningham Salmagundi Perkins. He went to a phone booth in a corner of the store and called up his mother. ‘Hello Mother, I’m afraid I wont be up to dinner… I’m dining with Randolph Perkins at the Salmagundi Club… Yes it is very pleasant… Oh well he and I have always been fairly good friends… Oh yes it’s essential to stand in with the men higher up. And I’ve seen Jack Cunningham. I put it up to him straight from the shoulder man to man and he was very much embarrassed. He promised a full explanation within twentyfour hours… No I kept my temper very well. I felt I owed it to Maisie. I tell you I think the man’s a blackguard but until there’s proof… Well good night dear, in case I’m late. Oh no please dont wait up. Tell Maisie not to worry I’ll be able to give her the fullest details. Good night mother.’

They sat at a small table in the back of a dimly lighted tearoom. The shade on the lamp cut off the upper parts of their faces. Ellen had on a dress of bright peacock blue and a small blue hat with a piece of green in it. Ruth Prynne’s face had a sagging tired look under the street makeup.

‘Elaine, you’ve just got to come,’ she was saying in a whiny voice. ‘Cassie’ll be there and Oglethorpe and all the old gang… After all now that you’re making such a success of editorial work it’s no reason for completely abandoning your old friends is it? You dont know how much we talk and wonder about you.’

‘No but Ruth it’s just that I’m getting to hate large parties. I guess I must be getting old. All right I’ll come for a little while.’