Riverside Drive: Border City Blues
Page 22
“I can’t,” said Vera Maude. “I know it sounds weak and stupid, but I just can’t. I’ll send him a long teary letter from the border.”
McCloskey understood. Without saying a word he turned up McKay, dodged the puddles left by the deluge last night, and parked a ways from the main building. The locomotive engine was going through some routine maintenance and people were assembling on the platform.
“Come on. I’ll walk you.” McCloskey carried her bag. “I know it’s gonna sound crazy,” he said, “but I miss you already.”
Vera Maude just smiled at him and that suited him just fine. He knew he couldn’t ask her for anything more.
“Do you need anything? I mean —”
He went to reach in his coat pocket for that roll of bills but Vera Maude stopped him, gently touching his arm.
“No — thanks.”
They looked into each other’s eyes. There was an understanding, but no words, no interpretation of the last few hours. They would leave it a mystery.
“So if I address something to the British-American, you’ll get it?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s my home away from home.”
Another pause, then a powerful embrace.
“Bye, Jack. And thanks.”
McCloskey could feel himself crumbling, his knees giving way. He felt like a schoolboy. He stopped himself, not wanting to embarrass or disappoint Vera Maude.
“Bye.”
The porter helped Vera Maude board the car. McCloskey watched her stow her luggage and find her seat. This felt different than it did with Sophie two days ago. Two days ago it was “I’ll catch up with you after I’ve rescued my father and brother, redeemed myself, and carved out a world for us to live in.” Of course none of that happened. This time it was just “goodbye” and “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Vera Maude waved through the window.
McCloskey waved back. He was tired, and a little drunk from the whisky and from Vera Maude. His mind wandered while he stood there on the platform and watched her through the glass. He imagined a life with Vera Maude.
He would catch up with her in New York, at the hotel-apartment in Greenwich Village she told him about. They had fertile common ground. They would plant the seeds of their future in it.
Eventually, Vera Maude got a job in a bookstore. She met up with some writers and showed them her work. They said it was good and they helped her get published by a small, local press. McCloskey worked in a gym, training young boxers. In the evenings he and Vera Maude hung out in the cafes. The poets liked McCloskey; they romanticized him way out of proportion. He got a kick out of it. Afterwards he and Vera Maude would walk hand in hand back to their apartment.
Life was good, but they were restless. Greenwich Village felt small after a while. Everyone told them to go to Paris. The next summer they did. McCloskey watched Vera Maude as she lived out her dreams, grew into the woman she imagined herself while she was boarding at Mrs. Richardson’s. McCloskey saw a side of Paris he hadn’t seen during the war. He opened himself up to the world. While other people were looking for answers he was still struggling to form the questions. But he wasn’t afraid. He and Vera Maude were a great pair. They taught each other so much and they were still madly in love.
When Paris got too small, they could head east, far east. He had met British soldiers during the war that told him about places like Egypt and India. Vera Maude was keen too. Their life would be an adventure together.
McCloskey missed her like crazy already. He had discovered a huge piece to his life’s puzzle, only to lose it again. He sat in the Light Six and watched the train pull out of the station. He had a clear view of the Elliott on the other side of the tracks. Yesterday morning seemed like a lifetime ago. He sat there, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking about Vera Maude, thinking about New York, looking at his fuel gauge.
A car pulled up at the edge of the lot. A big fellow stepped out and stood outside the vehicle, eyeing McCloskey in a way that suggested he wanted to be sure that he had the right man. He started walking slowly towards the Light-Six. McCloskey glanced down the track. Vera Maude’s train was already out of sight, gone. He turned back to the fellow who was now stopped and standing about ten feet away from McCloskey.
“What’s up, soldier?”
The fellow looked like he had been up all night.
“You Jack McCloskey?”
“Who’s asking?”
The man came closer to the vehicle. He cast a cold shadow across the window and door.
“The name’s Charlie Baxter. Richard Davies was my boss. I’m here to tell you —”
Baxter reached in his jacket for his weapon and aimed it at McCloskey.
“ — what goes around comes around.”
POSTSCRIPT
HE KNOWS THIS FELLOW IN CHICAGO
3 December, 1921
Chicago
Dear Mr. Joyce
I am writing this note to make you acquainted with my friend Ernest Hemingway, who with Mrs. Hemingway is going to Paris to live, and will ask him to drop it in the mails when he arrives there.
Mr. Hemingway is an American writer instinctively in touch with everything worth while going on here, and I know you will find both Mr. and Mrs. Hemingway delightful people to know.
They will be at 74 Rue de Cardinal Lemoine.
Sincerely,
Sherwood Anderson
* * *
2 February, 1922
Paris
Dear Miss Beach
I cannot let today pass without thanking you for all the trouble and worry you have given yourself about my book during the last year. All I can hope is that the result of its publication may be some satisfaction to you.
Will you please telegraph to Darantiere (to whom I have already sent a message of thanks) telling him in my name also to get on with the covers otherwise we shall get only 20 copies?
Grazie di nuovo.
Sincerely yours,
James Joyce
* * *
7 February, 1922
Paris
Mr. B---
I was given your name by an acquaintance of yours. He suggested that you might be able to help me in my cause.
I have a book, or rather, I have published a book. My fear is that it will not be allowed to make its way to readers in your country. There are forces at work that are determined to keep it out of the United States. Authorities have unjustly labelled the book as obscene.
If I were to somehow get you copies of the book, would you be able to handle the distribution from your end? I must be honest: there will be risks involved. I will cover your expenses.
Please let me know at your earliest convenience if you are able to help. My author would be eternally grateful.
Sylvia Beach
* * *
9 March, 1922
Paris
Dear Sherwood
You sound like a man well beloved of Jesus. Lots of things happen here. Gertrude Stein and me are just like brothers and we see a lot of her. Read the preface you wrote for her knew book and like it very much. It made a big hit with Gertrude. Hash says to tell you, quotes, that things have come to a pretty pass between her and Lewy — close quotes. My operatives keep a pretty close eye on the pair of them.
Joyce has a most god-damn wonderful book. It’ll probably reach you in time. Meantime the report is that he and all his family are starving but you can find the whole celtic crew of them every night in Michaud’s, where Binney and I can only afford to go about once a week.
I’ve been teaching Pound to box wit little success. He habitually leads wit his chin and has the general grace of the crayfish or crawfish. He’s willing but short winded. Going over there this afternoon for another session but there ain’t much job in it as I have to shadow box between rounds to get up a sweat. Pound sweats well, though, I’ll say that for him. Besides it’s pretty sporting of him to risk his dignity and his critical reputation at something that he don’t kn
ow nothing about. He’s really a good guy, Pound, wit a fine bitter tongue into him. He’s written a good review of Ulysses for the April Dial.
Ernest
* * *
CANADIAN NATIONAL TELEGRAM
WINDSOR ON
1922 MAR 21 PM 12 13
1625 DOUGALL AVE
MISS BEACH
SHOOT BOOKS PREPAID YOUR RES-PONSIBILITY ADDRESSING SAME TO ME CARE OF DOMINION EXPRESS COMPANY
B
Copyright © Michael Januska, 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Editor: Allister Thompson
Design: Courtney Horner
Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Januska, Michael
Riverside Drive [electronic resource] : border city blues / by Michael Januska.
Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN 978-1-4597-0676-7
I. Title.
PS8619.A6784R59 2013 C813'.6 C2012-905803-3
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
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