by Oakley Hall
“What’s the matter?” Jack asked, grinning crookedly.
“Ugh!”
“That your first drink, V?” Ben asked, and when she nodded, he said, “Jack should have got you some good stuff, instead of feeding you this cheap junk.”
Jack frowned, turned, and looked steadily at Ben. “Hey, Ben.”
“Yeah?”
“Hey, do you suppose you could go over and stay with Red for a couple days?”
“Oh,” Ben said. “Okay. Sure, Jack.” He looked at the suitcases, then at V, then at Jack. Jack winked. V’s eyes were fixed on her lap. She crossed her legs and tucked her skirt in around them.
“Sure,” Ben said again. He finished his drink in silence, rose self-consciously and went over to the bureau. He could feel Jack’s eyes watching him as he pulled some underpants and socks and shirts and a pair of clean levis from his drawer and stuffed them into his canvas bag. Carrying the bag he took his shaving gear and toothbrush from the washstand and walked to the door.
V was drawing a circle on the bed cover with her forefinger and Jack’s arm lay around her waist. Somehow Ben knew she was crying. He heard her whisper, “Goodbye, Ben, I’m glad to’ve met you,” and Jack said, “So long,” and then he stepped outside and pulled the door closed.
As he did so he dropped his toothbrush, and stooping to pick it up, he felt furious; at the toothbrush for falling, and at Jack and V. In his car driving over to Red’s, he grumbled aloud at this imposition, but he knew what angered him was Jack, at whom he did not want to be angry, and V, because he was sorry for her, and there was no use being sorry for her. But he could not force from his mind the picture of V sitting on the bed with her knees and feet close together and her hands in her lap, and in her eyes fear and loneliness, and in them too the hope for something for which she had no right to hope.
4
“Well, well,” Red said. “He’s got a set of brass guts. Kicking you out for a shack-up.”
“Aw, I don’t know,” Ben said. “I’d just like to know what the score is. That’s all.”
“Sure, stay here if you want to,” Red said. “Plenty of room.” He had just come out of the shower and was sitting in his green upholstered armchair in fresh BVDs, clipping his fingernails. The skin of his barrel chest and bulging calves was milk white, but his arms were burned and his face was a mass of dark freckles, which were almost solid across the bridge of his nose. His eyes were green and narrow, and reddish blonde hair was plastered wetly over his skull. He had dropped his towel on the floor in front of him, beside his dusty boots and a pair of stiff, stained sweat socks.
Ben knocked the ash from his cigarette into the cracked saucer that rested on the windowsill. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the steady clipping sound of the scissors. He wished now that he had not told Red about V, but he had been angry and he had felt he had to tell someone. But it was none of his business, and it was none of Red’s business.
“Yeah, hell,” Red said. “I won’t boot you out when I got some dame up here. Share the wealth, I say.” He looked up and grinned, and Ben knew he was welcome to stay. Red had two grins: one was friendly, the other mean and sneering, and this had been the friendly one. Ben had known Red less than a month. Red was working on the new highway job, running the push-cat that boosted the carryalls in the cut, and he and Ben ate lunch together every day. Evenings, the three of them, Ben, Jack and Red, had been seeing a lot of each other.
“Well,” Ben said, “I guess I shouldn’t have talked the way I did. I don’t really know what the score is. But I got kind of sore. You know. She’s young and she looks kind of nice, and there was Jack giving her the first drink she ever had, and I bet I gave her her first smoke, and I bet Jack got her cherry. You know. It made me want to puke.”
“Somebody’s got to get it,” Red said.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Share the wealth, I say,” Red said. He tossed the scissors over onto his dresser and scratched his head. “Maybe you should’ve stuck around over there, Ben.”
Ben didn’t say anything. He ground out his cigarette, borrowed Red’s towel and soap and went to take a bath. When he returned he put on a clean white shirt and clean levis. Red was already dressed and was standing in front of the mirror, rubbing his hand over his bristling jowls. He turned his face from side to side, then jutted his jaw and patted himself under the chin.
“Say, what’s this gal look like?” he asked.
“Blonde. Brown eyes. Pretty cute.”
“Built?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “You eaten yet?”
“Damn that Jack,” Red said. He was still contemplating himself in the mirror, but after a moment he turned, picked up his wallet and change from the dresser and put them in the pockets of his levis. “Yeah, let’s go out and eat,” he said.
5
It rained lightly during the night, harder the next day, and the highway job was shut down. Late in the morning Ben went around to get the rest of his clothes.
When he knocked, Jack’s voice told him to wait a minute. Bedsprings creaked, footsteps sounded, the door opened a crack and Jack’s face appeared. He grinned and swung the door open. “Want the rest of your stuff?” he asked. He had on blue-and-white-striped shorts and his broad face was puffy and bleary-eyed. Looking over his shoulder he beckoned Ben to enter.
V was still in bed. Her face was turned away from the door and she seemed to be asleep, but as Ben passed she opened her eyes and smiled at him. Her hands clutched the blankets tightly around her neck and she pulled her knees up. “Hello, Ben,” she said.
Since he had seen her last she had put her hair into two fat braids, one of which was crumpled under her head. There was a spot of color on either of her cheeks and she clutched the bedclothes tighter as Ben looked at her. Then he looked away, biting his lip. “Hi,” he said.
Jack leaned against the washstand, yawning and scratching his sides as Ben pulled his bureau drawer open. “No work today, Jack?” Ben asked.
“Nope. All through.”
Ben stacked the shirts and socks and shorts he had taken from the drawer into the canvas bag he had brought with him, and straightened up. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see V looking at Jack. Her hands were out from under the covers and she was smoothing her hair back and rearranging the twisted braid. A yard engine grunted past outside, butting three refrigerator cars, and rain splattered in fat drops against the window. In a gust that rattled the pane, the rain broke harder, as though someone had turned a hose against the side of the building.
“Say, Ben,” Jack said. “They don’t happen to be shorthanded down on the highway job, do you know?”
“Why don’t you come down and talk to Push?”
“I guess I will. You staying over at Red’s?”
Ben nodded silently. He took his raincoat and suit from the closet, wrapped the suit in the raincoat and picked up his bulging canvas bag. “Well, I’ll see you,” he said. “Come on down and see Push tomorrow.”
“Maybe I’ll see you at the Hitching Post tonight,” Jack said. He yawned again and sat down on the bed next to V. “You going to be there?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Ben walked quickly to the door. V’s skirt hung over the foot of the bed and her blouse was draped over the back of a chair. “So long, Jack, so long, V,” he said hurriedly, as he went out. He stamped down the stairs, his raincoat dragging on the steps. He was angry again. His teeth were set tight together and the muscles of his jaw ached.
That night at the Hitching Post he was sitting at a table with Red and Push and Harry Franco when V and Jack came in. He saw them first outside the window, and then they were in the doorway, V in a black dress that looked new and was too tight, and with too much lipstick on her mouth. Her blonde head came just below Jack’s shoulder. Ben saw Petey Willing and Fred Banks, and Willie, the mechanic, who were sitting at the bar, turn to look at her.
Red put down his beer and whistled softly. “Jesus,” he whisper
ed. “What a set of cans.” Harry screwed up his mouth and nodded approvingly. Push leaned forward toward Ben.
“Who’s that?”
“Jack’s girl. Her name’s V.”
“New, unh? She’s right cute.”
Jack waved to them and walked with V toward a table across the room. He stopped and put a coin in the jukebox, which suddenly glowed with red and yellow lights. Peggy went over to get their orders, walking stiffly and not looking at Jack.
“Oh, that damn stud,” Red whispered. “Oh, my bare feet.”
“These damn young cat skinners,” Push said. “New girl every day, and I can’t even hold onto my wife.” He laughed softly. “Say, get a load of Peggy.”
Harry whispered something Ben couldn’t hear.
Push poured beer into his tilted glass. “Pretty young, pretty young,” he said. “I don’t know. You met her yet, Ben?”
“Yeah,” Ben said. V seemed aware they were discussing her. She was talking rapidly to Jack, a set smile on her face, which was turned slightly away from them.
“How about it, Ben?” Red said. “I got to meet that. How about it?”
“Ah, leave them alone.”
“Keep that! I’m going over there.” He pushed his chair back. Ben quickly rose with him.
“You guys want to come?”
Push shook his grizzled head. “Some other time. This angle’ll do right well for me.”
“Yeah, me too,” Harry said.
Red hitched up his pants as he and Ben walked over to the other table. Jack grinned at them as they came up, and Ben said, “V, this is Red Young.”
“Hello,” V said.
“Hi,” Red said. “What do you know, Jack?”
“Not much. Sit down and have a beer.” He unzipped his leather jacket and drew a pack of Luckies from his shirt pocket. Red took the chair next to V and Ben lit the cigarettes Jack had passed around.
“Say, where’d you get this, Jack?” Red asked. “Pretty damn cute.” V flushed and looked down. Her dress was too tight around the top and she held one hand to her neck to cover it. Jack grinned, and then he looked seriously at Ben.
“Push got a job down there for me?”
“I didn’t ask him yet. Why’n’t you go buy him a beer?”
“I guess I better.” Jack tilted his chair back, stepped over it and set it on its feet again. Walking across to Push’s table he met Peggy with a tray of beers, stopped her and let his arm go carelessly around her waist. Peggy wriggled away and she was scowling as she passed their table. Ben saw V moisten her lips and her eyes were round.
“Two more beers, Peg,” Red called. He was chuckling.
“Jack was saying you just got out of high school,” Ben said quickly. “Where’d you go, V?”
“The Priory.” She licked her lips again. She had licked all lipstick away and only a thin line of scarlet remained around the edges of her mouth. Ben wondered if Jack had bought the black dress for her.
“You’re Catholic, unh?” Red said. “I knew a…”
“Episcopalian,” V said.
“How’d you like the Priory?” Ben asked.
“I didn’t like it very well. They were awfully strict.” She took a drink of her beer, trying not to make a face, and then she licked away the moustache of foam the beer had left on her upper lip.
Red said, grinning, “How old are you, V?”
“Eighteen.”
“Come on!”
She turned and smiled at him. “Yes I am. I was eighteen in April.” Ben saw Red’s arm move, the smile left V’s face, and she looked down at her lap. Ben kicked Red as hard as he could.
“Oooook!” Red cried. “God! Damn!” He half-rose in his chair, but then Peggy came up to the table with two bottles of beer, and behind her were Petey and Fred Banks. Ben rose without looking at Red, introduced them to V, and they pulled chairs up to the table.
They all sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Ben asked Petey when he would have his dozer working again, and then he asked Fred how the grading was going on the levee, and when he had started them talking, sat back and looked Red coldly in the eyes. Red glanced away and poured beer into his glass, but he was scowling and his lower lip protruded. V was saying she hoped Jack would get a job down on the new highway with them.
“Here he comes,” Petey said. “He got it, all right. Hey, Jack, how’d you make out?”
“Got it,” Jack said, rubbing his hands together.
“When do you start?” Ben asked.
“Tomorrow if it clears up,” Jack grinned, and Red said, “What’d you get? Dozer?”
“They’re getting a new grader. Push’s putting me on it.”
“Where the hell’d you do any grader work?”
“He was on one for a while up at Fresno,” Ben said. “He’s pretty good at it.”
“It’s about time they got another blade,” Fred said. “Mac and me’ve been busting our guts trying to stay caught up.”
Red rose abruptly, his chair scraping on the floor. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack,” Ben said. “So long, V.”
“Get Peggy to bring us a couple beers, will you?” Petey said. Ben nodded and followed Red across to the other table, signaling to Peggy on the way. Push was leaning back, a cigarette drooping from his lips, his eyes half-closed against the smoke. Harry looked up at Red with one eyebrow raised, sipping his beer.
“That’s pretty good,” Red said, jerking back his chair. “How come you give that bastard the new blade?”
“Because he knows how to run one,” Push said. “Why’n’t you tell me you wanted it?”
“You knew damn well I wanted it. You think I want to gather piles on that push-cat the rest of my life?”
Harry said, “Jack ought to be a good blade man.”
“If we get another I’ll see if I can put you on it, Red,” Push said.
Red’s eyes were little and mad. “You know damn well you won’t get another.”
“All right. Go to hell then.”
“That bastard,” Red said. He looked angrily at Ben. “And Goddamn you,” he said. “I ought to break your tail for you.”
“Any time you want to try,” Ben said.
“Ahhh, you little shrimp.” Red’s eyes flickered from Ben to the others and he swung around in his chair and waved an arm at Peggy, who was standing at the end of the bar. “What’s the trouble?” Harry asked.
Ben didn’t say anything, and Peggy brought four beers to the table. Her black eyes were sullen.
“Hey, Peg,” Harry said. “Your boy’s got himself a new baby.”
She glanced at him woodenly and started away, but Red caught her arm and pulled her back to the table. He sneered up at her as she threatened him with the tray.
“How about it, Peg?”
She didn’t speak. Her upper lip curled back over her teeth and she shook her arm loose. “Yeah, she’s sure stacked,” Harry said. “We been sitting here wondering how Jack does it.”
“She’s fat,” Peggy said scornfully. “She’s just a fat little high-school girl.” She stalked away, and Ben saw her looking at Jack and V as she went up to the bar. Petey and Fred were back at the bar with Willie again, and Jack and V were talking, their heads close together.
“I think I could use some of that Peggy,” Red said.
“Well, tonight’s the night,” Harry said. “She’s off Jack.”
“To hell with that. I’m taking no leftovers from that bastard.” Red was scowling darkly and he raised his glass and let the beer drain into his mouth. Ben watched him, his anger gone; five minutes before he had felt he could have killed Red, but now he knew Red had just acted the way he was used to acting.
He could understand Red being mad because he had been kicked on the shins, and he could understand Red being mad because Jack had got the new grader. In the matter of seniority on the job, Red had the more right to it, but Ben knew, too, that Push had been right in giving it to
Jack because Jack would be the better grader operator.
But it was a monotonous, dusty job, pushing the carryalls in the cut, and almost every cat skinner aspired to be a blade man. It had the highest prestige of any cat-skinning job, the pay was better, and it was a necessary step to becoming a grade foreman, if a man didn’t want to eat dust and bounce his kidneys to pieces all the rest of his life. He would like to be a blade man himself.
He sighed and looked up at Red, who was grinning now, listening to Push tell about his wife leaving him. Ben had heard the story many times and each time it was a little funnier, but he didn’t want to hear it now. His eyes moved across the room to where Jack and V had been sitting.
They were leaving, and Jack had his arm around her waist as they walked to the door. She was smiling up at him and Jack was making motions with his free hand, grinning and telling her something. Ben watched them. He watched them go out and pass the window, again feeling angry and uneasy. She was too young for this. She was too young, and there was an innocence and a frankness about her that was unlike any girl he’d met since he had gone to CCC camp. And she looked completely unprepared and defenseless, when she had to be prepared, had to have a defense. He scowled and drank his beer. Red and Harry and Push were laughing about something he hadn’t heard.
Suddenly, for no reason, he thought about Doris Rasmussen, and he put his hand down to feel the puckered, lumpy scar on the inside of his knee. Even under his levis it was sensitive to his touch, but he did not remove his hand, squeezing the scar and kneading it and frowning, thinking about San Jose and his mother and father, and his brother and sisters, and thinking about Doris Rasmussen.
6
In 1932 Ben’s father had bought the grocery store near the college in San Jose. It was a narrow, two-story building, and the second story was an apartment into which they moved. Ben’s older brother, Jake, who was nineteen, had a job in San Francisco driving a delivery truck and so did not live at home, but Ben’s mother and father slept upstairs in one bedroom, and Martha Lee and her husband, George, had the other, so that Ben and his other sister, Arlene, made a little bedroom for themselves out of a shed in the back of the store.