The Feud

by Thomas Berger

She began to make a list of needed foodstuffs with a stub pencil on a fragment of brown wrapping paper from a drawer in the kitchen cabinet. But when her elder son had gone upstairs, she suddenly seized Jack and pressed him to her.

  She said, “I don’t know what we’ll do if they take Tony away.”

  When he was released Jack said, “Maybe he’ll have to go on the lam for a while till this blows over.” But those were just words. He was as worried as he could be, and in times of crisis he felt as if he were no older than eleven or twelve and thus was disqualified from anything but the observer’s role.

  CHAPTER 6

  He what?“ said the Hornbeck police chief. “Oh, boy, is that right? He knocked Clive Shell on his big fat keister?” He howled.

  Bobby did not join Harvey in his merriment. She waited till his laughter diminished in volume, and then she said, “Thing is, I believe Tony did go through a stop sign.” She cleared her throat: after all, Harvey was himself a cop.

  He stopped chuckling for a moment. “Well, what was it he said, or ain’t it fit to repeat?”

  “It isn’t,” said Bobby, demurely. “But it wouldna mattered that much to me: I wasn’t born yesterday. It’s just that Tony would not stand for anybody talking like that to his mom.”

  Harvey suddenly became grave. “By God, I’d shoot the man through the heart who would utter foul language before any lady, let alone my sainted mother: I cooden answer for my behavior in that case.”

  “But what’re we gonna do,” asked Bobby, “when he comes to?”

  Harvey began to roar with laughter again. “He knocked him out cold?“ Finally he was able to say, “He won’t ever be able to hold his head up again. That bum!”

  It took Bobby an unhappy moment or two to realize that he meant the Hornbeck police chief and not her son.

  She said, “Tony lifts a lot of weights. I guess he’s stronger than he knows. He didn’t mean to hit him that hard.”

  “I’ll say this,” said Harvey, “I envy him. I allus wanted to do it to that fat slob myself.” He laughed awhile.

  Bobby said, “But when all’s said and done, I guess we’re in pretty bad trouble, wouldn’t you say, Harvey? Knocking out a policeman who was performing his duty…”

  The chief grew solemn for a moment. “Ordinarily,” he said, “there wouldn’t be much that was worse, for you got to maintain respect for the law and them hired to enforce it. That’s right!” He snorted. “But when you’re talking about Millville, at least since old Clive took over the force, you got a different kettle of fish. They give him an appropriation over there a whole lot bigger than I get here, and he’s supposed to use it to hire a part-time patrolman in addition to himself, but what old Clive does is just hire one, his cousin Ray Dooley, and I bet my bottom dollar Clive don’t pay Ray even a decent salary, but pockets the difference. Ray ain’t a bad guy. He’s generally on duty around noon, when Clive is eating his lunch for about three hours. Too bad you dint go through Millville at that time. Ray ain’t got a foul mouth: you can say that for him.”

  “But this Clive Shell can cause us trouble, can’t he?” asked Bobby, with the purpose of bringing Harvey back to the subject, away from his personal gripe against the rival police chief.

  Harvey said in a harsh voice, “He might if I wasn’t here. As it is, he knows he’d never hear the end of it: knocked on his—excuse me—butt by a high-school kid? Tell me this: was there any witnesses?”

  “I didn’t see anybody.”

  “Well, there you are,” said Harvey. “Mark my words, that guy ain’t gonna wanna advertise what happened. He’d be a laffinstalk from here on. You know, us chiefs get together and have us a picnic from all over the county every spring: old Clive wouldn’t never show up there again. He loves that picnic—on account of all the eats and beer.”

  “You wouldn’t kid me, wouldja, Harvey?” Bobby asked, in an almost seductive voice. He had taken pleasure in her in the old days.

  The chief did not react to the personal note. “But I hope alia you got enough sense to stay out of Millville from now on. I can’t help yuz if he catches yuz over there. Clive’ll throw the book atcha.”

  Bobby was greatly relieved. She exchanged her Sunday clothes for her everyday attire of wash-dress and apron, and was down in the kitchen when Jack returned from the store. She boiled the wieners and heated the baked beans.

  At the table she said to Jack as she passed him a bowl, “I wish I’d remembered to tell you nor German potato salad.”

  “Oh, yeah? What kind should I have got?”

  “My own preference is with mayonnaise,” she said, grimacing, “not so much sour vinegar. And I’ll tell you this: I’m not so crazy about pieces of greasy bacon, either.”

  Jack said, wrinkling his nose, “I don’t much like any kind.”

  “Well, you eat some, anyway. It’s good for your health.” He took two spoonfuls. “I thought you liked wienies, though, and baked beans—? Then I hope you’re gonna eat some. You’re too skinny, Jack.” She was avoiding Tony, for what she took to be good maternal reasons. It had always been better to let him alone when he stared stonily into space. He was doing it now, even though she had told him what the chief had said. But at least he was eating. He was like her, in that trouble seemed to whet his appetite: of a dozen wieners Jack ate only one and a half, and maybe four tablespoonfuls of baked beans, of which she had opened two large cans. She and Tony polished off all else, even the potato salad, and when clearing the table for dessert (chunks of pound cake covered with canned shredded pineapple, topped with whipped cream), she ate the half-sausage Jack had left on his plate.

  Just as they began dessert Bernice walked in the back door.

  Bernice had been evicted from her rooming house. She had been in arrears for some time, and had gone as far as she could go in kidding the landlord along without actually putting out. He was a big fat greasy foreigner of some kind, with lots of hair in his nose and baggy eyes. Luckily he had never put a hand on her, or else she would have lambasted him with a hot curling iron, but if looks meant anything, he had done it to her plenty. She could have lived there rent-free for the rest of her life if she had given him a little of what he was dying for, but she was no tramp.

  That’s what hurt, when he called her one, though she should have considered the source and seen it was just sour grapes.

  She had only smiled and said, “Maybe we can work something out till my ship comes in.”

  “No danks,” said he. “You see your sailors someplace else! Dis ain’t no cat-houze. Now you pull dat bathrobe shut, and den you pack up and get out inna morning.”

  “Hi, everybody!” she said now. “Didja dream you’d be seeing me so soon again?” But they didn’t look that excited.

  Her mother got up and went to the cupboard. “The pineapple’s all gone, but I got cling peaches, Bernice—?”

  “Cuppa java will be fine,” Bernice said. “That’s all I need.”

  “ ‘ Java,’ “ said Jack. “Is that what they say in the city, Bernice?”

  “Ain’t you ever heard that inna movies, Jack? ‘Hey, you bozo, gimme a cuppa java. The flatfeet are out to get me, see.’ Ain’t you ever heard ‘em say that in the movies?” Bernice was an authority on certain moving pictures: as an usherette she had seen and heard the same film over and over again and could therefore quote a lot of dialogue by heart.

  Her mother brought the coffee. “Don’t you wannany cake, Bernice? I sure hope you ate. We just polished off everything else in the house.”

  “Not me,” Bernice said jauntily. “I couldn’t swallow a morsel. Hey,” she turned to Jack, “how do you like that one: morsel? Pretty classy, huh?” She went into an English accent that soon put him in stitches: words like “veddy” this and that, and “by Jove.”

  Her mother sat down at the table. “We got some bad news, Bernice. If you’re wonnering where your dad is, he’s in the hospital.”

  “Awwww—”

  “Now, it’s not fatal, tha
nk the Lord. He had a heart attack over at the mill, and they came with the ambulance and took him right to the Merryvale Hospital.”

  “Awwww—” Bernice was really hit hard by this information. She had always thought her old man was the Rock of Gibraltar.

  “He’s all right, so far. We just have to wait, I guess.”

  Bernice hung her head. She had always been closer to her mother than to her father. She realized guiltily that she didn’t know much about him at all. She remembered seeing a snapshot of him, once, wearing a uniform in which he looked funny because of the cap and also the leggings that were like bandages and gave him toothpick legs. But he was a lot skinnier all over in those days.

  She said now, “I guess he had a tough time inna war.”

  Her mother shook her head. “He wasn’t in the war.”

  Bernice mentioned the photo.

  “Oh,” said her mother, chuckling. “I recall that. He had that taken in a penny arcade. You didn’t put the costumes on: you just stood in back of ‘em and stuck your head through a hole: the different clothes were painted on big sheets of cardboard or whatnot. You know what I mean.”

  Bernice shrugged. Her mother told her of their visit to the hospital, but stopped there.

  It was Jack who said, “And then, coming home, we had more trouble.” While his mother tried to shush him he told about Tony’s punching the cop.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” Bernice said. “Tony.”

  He looked inscrutably at her through his glasses.

  Jack said, “If he has to hide out for a while, can he stay at your place downtown?”

  “Harvey Yelton don’t think anything’ll come of it,” said her mother. “He says the Millville cop won’t want it known a young boy beat him up.”

  “Now,” said Bernice, grateful for this diversion, “that’s somepin Harvey would be the authority on. You can rely on him.” She addressed Tony in a lighter tone. “Now don’t you go getting into a fight with Harvey too. He’s on our side.” Or so she hoped, in more ways than one.

  Tony doggedly spooned up the rest of his dessert. Then he said, “I ain’t gonna worry about it. I did the right thing. I got no regrets, except I wish I’d of seen that stop sign.”

  “And see,” said her mother, “Tony don’t have his final license yet, so he didn’t dare get picked up.”

  “Heck,” said Bernice, “I shoulda been here…. Well, I’ll tell you this, Mama, I intend to stay right here at home as long as Daddy’s laid up. I can make myself useful for a change. I’ll be the chauffeur!” This also neatly solved her own problem of where to live at the moment and disposed of the otherwise painful job of inventing a story as to why she was leaving the city altogether.

  Her mother didn’t make as much of a protest as she expected, probably because she was so worried about Dad. “That would sure be swell of you, Bernice, if you could spare the time.”

  “Why,” Bernice said brightly, “I’ll just take my vacation a little ahead of the season. You want me to run you back to the hospital when you finish your cake?”

  “They wouldn’t let us see him yet,” said her mother, reflectively working her teaspoon into the dessert. Tony’s appetitie did not seem to be affected by his troubles. Jack was like Bernice in not eating much. There were some who said that men preferred plump girls, but Bernice was only too aware that many others liked their meat close to the bone.

  Jack said, “The Millville cop would have to get extradition papers. I don’t know if that means the G-men would be called in or not.”

  His mother shook her head. “Now, come on, Jack, let’s drop the subject for a while.”

  Tony had been chewing stolidly and staring at his plate. He now lifted his head. “I’m going to quit school tomorrow and get a job at the mill.”

  “No, you are not,” his mother said firmly. “My Lord, you only got the rest of this year to finish, and you’re gonna do it.” She lifted the milk bottle and filled his glass to the brim, though it had been only a few seconds since he had given himself a refill and he had not drunk much of it.

  “Yeah, Tony,” said Bernice. “Somebody in this family ought to have a high-school diploma.” She herself had left school as soon as she could, when she turned sixteen in the middle of the sophomore year.’ Her parents had to sign for her, and they did it willingly. She went to work at the local independent five-and-ten, but it had not been long before she and the proprietor, a newcomer to Hornbeck named Chick Willig, had a falling out over some missing cosmetics which the daily sales figures could not justify. Willig was a real cheapskate. Nor would anybody have ever called him a he-man, else he wouldn’t have objected to her learning how to use makeup professionally, at a very small expense to himself. But when he fired her, the excuse he gave was that his female customers had complained: she was too stuck-up to wait on anybody. Well, they weren’t altogether wrong about that; she had better things to do than wait on that bunch of old biddies.

  Tony said stubbornly, “What difference does it make if I graduate? I’m gonna end up at the mill sooner or later anyway, ain’t I? If Dad’s laid up we’re gonna need some money now. It’s stupid for me to just sit there and take history and English and that other crap.”

  Jack said, “I guess you’re right, but that junk’s useful if you want to be a foreign correspondent.”

  Bernice smiled at her younger brother. “Izzat what you want to be, Jack?”

  He looked shy. “I don’t know.”

  “What is that, sort of like being some kinda spy or something? Jack was going to be a swell-looking fellow in a couple of years.

  “I guess you go to places like Constantinople and Singapore and Paris, France, and write things for the newspaper,” said Jack. “You have to carry a portable typewriter, you know, one that folds up into a little suitcase?”

  “Well, then we know what to getcha for Christmas, don’t we?” said Bernice.

  “I’m saving up,” Jack said, and then laughed wryly. “I’ve got a dollar sixty-five so far: that’s from selling old papers and stuff to the junkman.”

  “Does that Hunky still come down the alley with his horse ‘n’ wagon?” Bernice asked idly. “Does he stink as much as ever? You could smell him all the way upstairs from the cellar.”

  “Well, it takes all kinds,” her mother said. “Say, if you’re gonna stay the night, Bernice, I’ll give you a pair of Tony’s pajamas.”

  Bernice snapped her fingers, as if she had genuinely forgotten. “My gosh.” She got up. “I left it on the porch. I brought out a suitcase full uh dirty wash. Where I stay the boiler busted last night, and there wasn’t any hot water all day.” She had worked up this story on the bus, coming out; in truth the valise contained such possessions as she owned at this time, apart from things she had left here at home in Hornbeck.

  Her mother hastily left the table, went out to the back porch, and brought in the suitcase. “I’ll get going onnis right after I do these dishes.”

  Actually, everything was dirty and could use a good washing, so Bernice didn’t protest. Her mother loved working, whereas she herself hated its Among the many lousy things about leaving home was all the stuff you had to take care of, like laundry, etc., etc., which when your mother took care of it, you hardly knew existed. The only good thing was you had your privacy, but the advantages of that could be exaggerated. There were a lot of rotten people in the world who would rather die than give you a break.

  “I was thinking,” she said to her mother, “I might just take a little spin inna car to get used to it again. It’s been a while since I was back of the wheel.”

  “Say, that might be an idea,” said her mother. “Whyn’t you and Tony do that?”

  Bernice’s idea had been to go by herself, for her own reasons, but when Tony promptly left the table, tossing the car keys in his hand, it seemed simpler to play along.

  Jack said, “I’ll clear out of your old room, Bernice.”

  “Gee,” she said, “I sure feel bad about that.
It’ll just be for a little while. I’ll make it up tuh yuh, Jack.”

  “Gosh, that’s O.K.” It was a pity you couldn’t meet any grown men who were anything like Jack, or even Tony, who was a pretty swell guy too, with lots of principles. Never in her life had she met a grown man with any principles worthy of the name, unless her father had some: she wouldn’t know about that. They were all liars and cheats and had a yellow streak up their back, and if they ever had a feeling that wasn’t purely selfish, she had never detected it. The only trouble was: in spite of this, she had a soft spot in her heart for guys, and though they were all dirty rats, deceitful as they come, she would rather trust any of them than some other woman.

  The sun was setting when Bernice and Tony reached the yard. She remembered that she had seldom driven at night and in fact had forgotten exactly how to turn the headlights on. It was therefore just as well that her brother had come along, at least this far.

  “Say, Bernice,” Tony said when they climbed into their respective seats. “Can I talk to you about something?”

  “Sure, Tone. Just let me get this crate started up…. Here, right? Have I got the right thing?” She was treading the starter, but nothing happened. Tony told her she’d have to kick it hard. She did that, and the engine whirred for a while and at last caught on. “Gee,” she said, “does that sound right?”

  “It’s a little loud,” Tony admitted. “That’s because the hood is just wired down, and the vibration, see…. What I wanted to talk about was, uh—”

  “Just lemme get this backed up,” said Bernice, trying all the gears before she found reverse. Some guy had taught her to drive on a different make of car not long after she quit school. He sat her on his lap back of the wheel, like they do with a little kid to pretend he’s driving. This man would feel her up while they were rolling along the road. Once he opened his pants and demonstrated the shift pattern using himself. He had quite a sense of humor, but eventually proved himself to be the usual son of a bitch. One time they got into an argument about something, and he threw her out of the car three or four miles out in the country, and she would have had to hike all the way back home had not some kindly hick come along with a load of hay.