Джеймс Кейн - Mildred Pierce

“He’s right in here.”

“I’ll only be a minute, but I got to see him.”

If Wally elected to believe Bert still lived here, Bert evidently preferred to follow suit. He shook hands with a fine show of hospitality, offered a drink as though the liquor were his own, and asked how was every little thing quite as though nothing had happened. Wally said he had been trying to see him for a couple of months now, over something that had come up, and so help him God, this was the first chance he had had. Bert said don’t tell him he simply didn’t know what made the time fly. Wally said it was those three houses in Block 14, and what he wanted to know was, had any verbal promise been made at the time of the sale that the corporation would put a retaining wall in the rear? Bert said absolutely not, and launched into details as to how the lots were sold. Wally said it had all sounded pretty funny to him, but he wanted to make sure.

Mildred half listened, no longer in any humor for Wally, her mind on the car, and thinking only how she would begin. But then a perfectly hellish idea entered her mind, and she no sooner thought of it than she acted on it. “My but it’s hot in here! Aren’t you boys uncomfortable in those coats? Don’t you want to take them off?”

“I think she said something, hey, Bert?”

“I’ll say she did.”

“Don’t get up. I’ll take them.”

They took off their coats, and she draped them over her arm, and stepped into the closet to put them on hangers. When she had them nicely hung up, she slipped her fingers into Bert’s change pocket, and there, as she knew it would be, was the key to the car. She took it out, slipped it into her shoe. When she came out of the closet she picked up her drink, which she had barely touched. “I think I’ll get tight.”

“ ’Atta girl!”

“Lemme freshen it for you.”

Bert put fresh ice in her glass, and a little more liquor, and a squirt of seltzer, and she took two or three quick swallows. She tinkled her ice, told the story of Harry Engel and the anchors, which amused the two gentlemen greatly. When she finished, she felt the key tickling her instep, and let out the first ripple of real laughter that had come out of her in months. She had a charming laugh, a little like Ray’s, and it startled the two men, too, so for a time they laughed with her, as though there had never been a Depression, a break-up of marriage, or a sour feeling over who got the job with the receiver.

But Wally, evidently a little nervous, and more than a little uncertain about his status, decided presently that he had to leave. Bert took him ceremoniously to the door, but he discovered that he had forgotten his coat, and this gave him a chance to dash back for a quick word with Mildred. “Hey, is he back? I mean, is he living here?”

“Just saying hello.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you.”

“I certainly hope so.”

When Bert came back he resumed his seat, took a meditative sip out of his glass, and said: “Looked like he hadn’t heard anything. About us, I mean. I figured there was no need to tell him.”

“You did exactly right.”

“What he don’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Certainly not.”

The bottle was getting low now, but he poured himself another drink, and got around to what he had come for. “Before I go, Mildred, remind me to get a couple things out of the desk. Nothing important, but might as well take them along.”

“Can I find them for you?”

“My insurance policy.”

His voice was a little ugly, as though he expected an argument. The policy was for $1,000, paid-up value $256, and he had never taken out more because he didn’t believe in insurance as an investment, preferring A. T. & T. There had been wrangles about it, Mildred insisting that if anything happened to him “it’s the one thing between the children and the poor-house.” Yet she knew it was the next item for sacrifice, and obviously he was bracing himself for opposition. But she blandly got it for him, and he said “Thanks, Mildred.” Then, apparently relieved at the easy way he got it, he said: “Well, goddam it, how you been, anyway?”

“Just fine.”

“Let’s have another drink.”

They had the last two in the bottle, and then he said he had to go. Mildred got him his coat, and took him to the door, and submitted to a teary kiss, and he went. Quickly she turned out the lights, went to the bedroom, and waited. Sure enough, in a few minutes the bell rang. She opened, and he was standing there, looking a little foolish. “Sorry to bother you, Mildred, but my car key must have fallen out of my pocket. You mind my looking?”

“Why, not at all.”

He went back to the den, snapped on the light, and looked all over the floor where he had been playing with Ray. She watched him with pleased, slightly boozy interest. Presently she said: “Well come to think of it, perhaps I took that key.”

“You took it?”

“Yes.”

“Well gimme it. I got to go home. I...”

She stood smiling as the dreadful truth dawned on him, and his face sagged numbly. Then she stepped quickly aside as he pawed at her. “I’m not going to give it to you, and there’s no use in your trying to take it from me, because I’ve got it in a place where I don’t think you’ll find it. From now on, that car’s mine. I’m working, and I need it, and you’re not, and you don’t need it. And if you think I’m going to pound around on my feet, and ride busses, and lose all that time, and be a sap, while you lay up with another woman and don’t even use the car, you’re mistaken, that’s all.”

“You say you’re working?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then O.K. Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“Would you like me to ride you back?”

“ ’Preciate that very much.”

“You staying with Maggie?”

“Prefer not to say where I’m staying. I’m staying where I’m staying. But if you drop me by Maggie’s, it’s all right. Got to see her for a minute, so you can drop me there — if it’s convenient for you.”

“Anywhere’s convenient for me.”

They went out together, and got in the car. Fishing the key out of her shoe they started off, and rode silently to Mrs. Biederhof’s, where she said she was awfully glad he dropped around, and wanted him to feel welcome any time, not only for the children’s sake but for her sake. He solemnly thanked her, said he had enjoyed the evening, and opened the door to get out. Then he grabbed for the key. However, she had foreseen exactly that contingency, and palmed the key as soon as she turned on the ignition. She laughed, quite gaily malicious. “Didn’t work, did it?”

“Guess it didn’t.”

“Good night, Bert. And I have a couple of old brassieres at the house, tell her. They’re clean and fresh and she can have them any time she drops around.”

“Listen, goddam it, you got the car. Now kindly shut up.”

“Anything you say.”

She pulled away and drove home. When she got there the light was still on, and everything was as she had left it. Glancing at the gas, she saw there were two gallons in the tank, and kept on straight ahead. At Colorado Avenue she turned. It was the first through boulevard she had been on, and the traffic signals were off, with yellow blinkers showing. She gave the car the gun, excitedly watching the needle swing past 30, 40, and 50. At 60, on a slight upgrade, she detected the gravelly sound of ping, made a mental note to have the carbon removed. Then she eased off a little on the gas, breathed a long, tremulous sigh. The car was pumping something into her veins, something of pride, of arrogance, of regained self-respect, that no talk, no liquor, no love, could possibly give. Once more she felt like herself, and began thinking about the job with cool detachment, instead of shame. Its problems, from balancing the dishes to picking up starters, flitted through her mind one after another, and she almost laughed that a few hours ago they had seemed formidable.