John Passos - The 42nd Parallel

Then it ’ud suddenly sound too damn silly and he’d stride up and down his little porch in his pajamas, with the mosquitoes shrilling about his head and the pound of the sea and the jeer of the dryflies and katydids in his ears, cursing being young and poor and uneducated and planning how he’d make a big enough pile to buy out every damn Frenchman; then he’d be the one she’d love and look up to and he wouldn’t care if she did have a few damn Frenchmen for mascots if she wanted them. He’d clench his fists and stride around the porch muttering, “By gum, I can do it.”

Then one evening he found Annabelle Marie alone. The Frenchman had gone on the noon train. She seemed glad to see Johnny, but there was obviously something on her mind. She had too much powder on her face and her eyes looked red; perhaps she’d been crying. It was moonlight. She put her hand on his arm, “Moorehouse, walk down the beach with me,” she said. “I hate the sight of all these old hens in rockingchairs.” On the walk that led across a scraggly lawn down to the beach they met Dr. Strang.

“What’s the matter with Rochevillaine, Annie?” he said. He was a tall man with a high forehead. His lips were compressed and he looked worried.

“He got a letter from his mother… She won’t let him.”

“He’s of age, isn’t he?”

“Dad, you don’t understand the French nobility… The family council won’t let him… They could tie up his income.”

“You’ll have enough for two… I told him that.”

“Oh, shut up about it, can’t you?…” She suddenly started to blubber like a child. She ran past Johnny and back to the hotel, leaving Johnny and Dr. Strang facing each other on the narrow boardwalk. Dr. Strang saw Johnny for the first time. “H’m… excuse us,” he said as he brushed past and walked with long strides up the walk, leaving Johnny to go down to the beach and look at the moon all by himself.

But the nights that followed Annabelle Marie did walk out along the beach with him and he began to feel that perhaps she hadn’t loved the Frenchman so much after all. They would go far beyond the straggling cottages and build a fire and sit side by side looking into the flame. Their hands sometimes brushed against each other as they walked; when she’d want to get to her feet he’d take hold of her two hands and pull her up towards him and he always planned to pull her to him and kiss her but he hadn’t the nerve. One night was very warm and she suddenly suggested they go in bathing. “But we haven’t our suits.” “Haven’t you ever been in without? It’s much better… Why, you funny boy, I can see you blushing even in the moonlight.” “Do you dare me?” “I doubledare you.”

He ran up the beach a way and pulled off his clothes and went very fast into the water. He didn’t dare look and only got a glimpse out of the corner of an eye of white legs and breasts and a wave spuming white at her feet. While he was putting his clothes on again he was wondering if he wanted to get married to a girl who’d go in swimming with a fellow all naked like that, anyway. He wondered if she’d done it with that damn Frenchman. “You were like a marble faun,” she said when he got back beside the fire where she was coiling her black hair round her head. She had hairpins in her mouth and spoke through them. “Like a very nervous marble faun… I got my hair wet.” He hadn’t intended to but he suddenly pulled her to him and kissed her. She didn’t seem at all put out but made herself little in his arms and put her face up to be kissed again. “Would you marry a feller like me without any money?” “I hadn’t thought of it, darling, but I might.”

“You’re pretty wealthy, I guess, and I haven’t a cent, and I have to send home money to my folks… but I have prospects.”

“What kind of prospects?” She pulled his face down and ruffled his hair and kissed him. “I’ll make good in this realestate game. I swear I will.” “Will it make good, poor baby?” “You’re not so much older’n me… How old are you, Annabelle?” “Well, I admit to twentyfour, but you mustn’t tell anybody, or about tonight or anything.” “Who would I be telling about it, Annabelle Marie?” Walking home, something seemed to be on her mind because she paid no attention to anything he said. She kept humming under her breath.

Another evening they were sitting on the porch of his cottage smoking cigarettes — he would occasionally smoke a cigarette now to keep her company — he asked her what it was worrying her. She put her hands on his shoulders and shook him: “Oh, Moorehouse, you’re such a fool… but I like it.” “But there must be something worrying you, Annabelle… You didn’t look worried the day we came down on the train together.” “If I told you… Gracious, I can imagine your face.” She laughed her hard gruff laugh that always made him feel uncomfortable. “Well, I wish I had the right to make you tell me… You ought to forget that damn Frenchman.” “Oh, you’re such a little innocent,” she said. Then she got up and walked up and down the porch.

“Won’t you sit down, Annabelle? Don’t you like me even a little bit?”

She rubbed her hand through his hair and down across his face. “Of course I do, you little blue-eyed ninny… But can’t you see it’s everything driving me wild, all those old cats round the hotel talk about me as if I was a scarlet woman because I occasionally smoke a cigarette in my own room… Why, in England some of the most aristocratic women smoke right in public without anybody saying ‘boo’ to them… And then I’m worried about Dad; he’s sinking too much money in realestate. I think he’s losing his mind.”

“But there’s every indication of a big boom coming down here. It’ll be another Atlantic City in time.”

“Now look here, ’fess up, how many lots have been sold this month?”

“Well, not so many… But there are some important sales pending… There’s that corporation that’s going to build the new hotel.”

“Dad’ll be lucky if he gets fifty cents out on the dollar… and he keeps telling me how rattlebrained I am. He’s a physician and not a financial wizard and he ought to realize it. It’s all right for somebody like you who has nothing to lose and a way to make in the world to be messing around in realestate… As for that fat Colonel I don’t know whether he’s a fool or a crook.”

“What kind of a doctor is your father?”

“Do you mean to say you never heard of Dr. Strang? He’s the best known nose and throat specialist in Philadelphia… Oh, it’s so cute…” She kissed him on the cheek “… and ignorant…” she kissed him again… “and pure.” “I’m not so pure,” he said quickly and looked at her hard in the eyes. Their faces began to blush looking at each other. She let her head sink slowly on his shoulder.

His heart was pounding. He was dizzy with the smell of her hair and the perfume she wore. He pulled her to her feet with his arm round her shoulders. Tottering a little, her leg against his leg, the stiffness of her corset against his ribs, her hair against his face, he pulled her through the little livingroom into the bedroom and locked the door behind them. Then he kissed her as hard as he could on the lips. She sat down on the bed and began to take off her dress, a little coolly he thought, but he’d gone too far to pull back. When she took off her corset she flung it in the corner of the room. “There,” she said. “I hate the beastly things.” She got up and walked towards him in her chemise and felt for his face in the dark. “What’s the matter, darling?” she whispered fiercely, “Are you afraid of me?”

Everything was much simpler than Johnny expected. They giggled together while they were dressing. Walking back along the beach to the Ocean House, he kept thinking: “Now she’ll have to marry me.”