Сол Беллоу - Dangling Man

"That's a city check, Mr '@.8.Certainly there isn't much risk in accepting a city check."

"If you know who the endorser is," said Mr.

Frink, unclasping his pen and shuffling professionally through my cards with one hand. "Now, where do you work, Joseph?"

In such cases I generally answer that I am working at Inter-American; it is an impressive reference and not a wholly false one; Mr. Mallender would stand behind me, I am sure. But because he addressed me by my first name, as though I were an immigrant or a young boy or a Negro, I said-com. missing diplomacy without a second thought-"I'm not working anywhere now. I'm waiting for my draft call."

Of course, that finished my prospects. He immediately @? said, reassembling his pen, that the bank did not make a practice of cashing the checks of nondepositors. He was sorry.

I gathered up my cards.

"Here, you'll notice that I have a surname, Frink," I said, holding one of the cards up. "I realize it's difficult to deal with the public efficiently and stilI politely. All the same, people don't like to be treated like suspicious charactersand patronized at the same time." I made an effort to control myself as I said this, but when I ended I saw that several bystanders were looking at me. Frink seemed more alarmed by my tone than by my words. I am not sure he understood them, but he faced me as if to show that in him I menaced a courageous man. It was a foolish incident. A year ago I would have accepted his explanation politely and have moved away.

Too late, I stuffed the check into my pocket and, without another glance at Frink, I walked off.

Natural/y, when I came to explain my reasons for not going back to the bank I could not tell Iva all of the story. I said merely that I had been turned down twice and did not want it to happen a third time.

"Oh, now, Joseph, why should there be any trouble about it? I've cashed hundreds of checks."

"But they turned me down. And it's as embarrassing as anything can be."

"I'll give you my identification disk. All you have to do is show it."

"I won't do it," I said.

"Then go somewhere else. Go to the currency exchange, the one near Lake-Park Avenue."

"Before they do business with you there, they make you fill out a long, long form. They want to know everything… where you're employed. If I say I'm not working, they'll laugh me out of the place. "What?

Not working? Anybody can get a job these days."

No, I won't go. Why ton't you cash it downtown?"

"I'm not going to carry all that money late at night. It's out of the question. If I'm held up, we'll have to borrow from your father or mine, or from Amos."

"Have you ever been held up?"

"You know I haven't been."

"Then why have you suddenly begun to worry about t?"

"You read two papers a day, from front to back.

You ought to know. There've been holdups."

"Pooh! Two people. And not near here, either, but miles away, up on Sixtieth Street."

"Joseph, are you or are you not going to cash this hcck?"

"No," I said.

Perhaps I should have told her about my experience with Mr. Frink. Then, at any rate, the reason for my refusalwould have been clear. But she would have been just As angry. She would have been in the right, hence very severe. And, although she would have excused me from turning to the bank, it is likely that she would have made things hard for me in other ways. Therefore I said nothing about it.

"All right," she said. "The check will stay in the drawer. We won't eat."

"I can stand it if you can."

"I'm quite sure you can stand it. You'd have to be a weak as… as Gandhi before you'd give in.

You're mulish."

"I don't think you have much right to call me mulish.

As if you weren't twice as stubborn. I don't feel like fighting about it, Ira. That's the truth. I can't go. I have my reasons."

"You always have reasons, and with principles.

Capital

P,"

" she said, tracing the letter on the air with her finger.

"Don't be a fool. Do you think it's pleasant to walk up to a bank window and be turned away?"

"Are you sure you didn't get into a fight of some kind over there?" she asked shrewdly. "I have a suspicion @.'

"Your suspicion is wrong. You always jump to the worst conclusion you can think of. If I wanted to do that… well."

"Well?"

"I'd say plenty."

"For example."

"You want me to do all kinds of things I was never expected to do before. Now, why this sudden fear of being robbed?

I could say you trumped it up. You've been carryingmoney for years, and larger amounts, too.

Suddenly it frightens you. Well, the reason is that you want me to run errands."

"Errands?"

"Yes."

"Let's have the whole thing. You must have a principle hidden somewhere."

"Don't make fun of me, Iva. Things have changed.

You've become the breadwinner, and whether you know it or not you resent the fact that I stay at home while you go to work every morning. So you think up things for me to do. You want me to earn my keep."

"Of all the things to say." Iva grew white.

"I never know what you're going to do. You go along quietly and all of a sudden you come out with something, something @. @. it's a terrible thing to say."

"It happens to be true."

"It isn't."

"You aren't aware of it yourself, Ira. I'm not blaming you. But you are the provider. After all, it's bound to have an effect on you'.

"Yo're having an effect on me. Y'ro making me sick."

"No, listen to me, Iva," I persisted.

"I'm not making this up. I see it and feel it constantly. I know you don't want it to be true, but it is, nevertheless.

You take it for granted that I have nothing to do. Every morning you leave half a dozen orders for me. And just a while ago you mentioned that I read the papers."

"How you twist everything around," Ira said bitterly. @'

"Not as much as you think."

She reached for her handkerchief.

"Just as soon as I take up a subject you don't like, you begin to cry. Don't you want me to say anything about this?"

"I can depend on you not to keep quiet when you think you're being wronged. You think everybody's trying to take advantage of you. Even I @. @. @.@? and she could not continue.

"This is what happens whenever I bring up a disagreeable subject. I'm just trying to point out something I don't think you're aware of. I thought you wanted me to tell you such things. You never used to object."

"You never used to be so mean and ugly-tempered.

You…" Now she broke off and began to cry.

"Jesus, Jesus! Can we never have a talk without a flood of tears? It's easy for you to cry.

But what can I do? I'm getting out. I should get out for good. This is no sort of life. Stop that crying!" She did try to stop; her efforts ended in a grotesque sound brought up from her throat. She rolled over on the bed and concealed her face from Up to this point in our quarrel, Yanaker had given several protesting coughs, and now I heard his footsteps in the hall as he went to the bathroom and then, just as I had expected, the sound through the open door, of his splash, growing louder as he trained his stream to the center where the water was deepest. Shuffling off my slippers, I stepped out stealthily and advanced on his silhouette. When he turned, hearing me, my foot was already in the door. He had neglected to turn on the light, but I could see perfectly clearly by the small bulb outside. In the semidark, a look of panic sprang to his moist, drunken eyes, and he pushed against me, but I was solidly planted on the threshold.

"Took you in it at last, didn't I!" I exclaimed. "You damned old whisky-head.

By God, I've had more than I can stand. There's a dying woman downstairs, and you slam around here all boozed up, raising as much hell as you please."