by W. L. Heath
Frank Dupree was pleased with the rain because on rainy days more people wanted a cab. He drove around the still-deserted courthouse square and pulled up at his regular stand beside the sulphur well. He was a little early, but it paid to be early. It looked like a good day to him.
After a few minutes Joe Satterfield, who drove Morgan’s only other taxi, drew up beside him. Joe was a fat sloppy man, in Frank’s opinion, and he couldn’t see how anybody would want to ride with him. Joe had kinky hair that he brushed straight back so that his head looked flat. Joe owned a three-legged dog that hopped around town trying to follow his cab.
“Morning, Frankie,” Joe said. “Looks like a good day for us, eh?”
“If it don’t quit and clear up,” Frank said.
He was pretty sure it wouldn’t, but he never liked to agree unequivocally with anything Joe said. After all, they were competitors.
Nish Calloway, who cooked for the Claytons, always went to work a little earlier than she needed to, because she rode in with her husband and he had to be at the hosiery mill at six o’clock sharp. She didn’t mind though, because it gave her time to make a pot of coffee and read the morning paper before she carried it in to Mr. Clayton.
This morning when she arrived she knew there was a row on. She could hear them upstairs railing at Mister Bill. Old man Clayton was foghorning away up there. “Don’t lie to me, son,” she heard Mr. Clayton shout.
She hung up her coat and hat and pushed the dining-room door open so she could hear.
“All right, so I was drinking,” Bill said. “I’m old enough to drink if I want to, and the car happens to be mine, I paid for it myself. If I want to tear it up, I can’t see where it’s any concern of yours.”
“You can’t, eh?”
“Oh but son, it is our concern,” Mrs. Clayton wailed. “You might have been killed and you’re all we’ve got in this world.”
“Mother, for God’s sake. The car wasn’t hurt, just a tiny scrape on one fender – you’d think I demolished it, for God’s sake.”
“That’s not the point,” the old man bellowed. “The point is what could have happened. You were drunk, that’s what you were. And stop saying ‘for God’s sake.’”
“Look, Dad, I happen to be twenty-nine years of age, and …”
“You’re not, Billy,” Mrs. Clayton moaned. “You know you won’t be twenty-nine till the fourteenth of August.”
“All right, for God’s sake! I’m only twenty-eight and eleven-twelfths, then! But I’m old enough to take a drink if I want to, and I won’t be scolded like a damn child for it!”
“William Randolph Clayton!” Mrs. Clayton exclaimed in dismay.
Charlie Banks, the night marshal, was just going off duty when the town clock struck six. He paused at the door of the city hall, fished a big gold watch from his pocket and looked at it until he heard the mill whistle blow. Then he gave a little nod of satisfaction and went on in to leave his gun and his badge before going home to bed. He was glad of the rain, too, because it had been hard to sleep in the daytime these hot days.
Diagonally across the street, Harvey Campbell was unlocking the door of the Blue Moon Cafe.
At six forty-five Shelley and Helen were in the kitchen making coffee. The girls were still asleep and Jimmy had been up and fed and put back to bed again. As they waited for the coffee to perk, Shelley looked out the windows at the weather.
“Well,” he said, “I guess this more or less settles it. No fishing today.”
“That’s too bad,” Helen said. “You were all set for it, weren’t you?”
“Sorta. But it’s a good thing, really. The farmers needed it, and I’ve got the whole rest of the summer to fish. I never thought it would happen though. Yesterday evening there wasn’t a sign of a weather change anywhere.”
Helen got up and went out through the living room to the front door to get the paper. When she came back, Shelley was pouring two cups of coffee and the nutty roasted smell of it permeated the room.
“If that’s as good as it smells, it ought to be good,” she said.
“The secret of good coffee is making it slow,” Shelley said. “It’s like making love to a woman. The longer it takes, the better.”
“Listen to you talk.”
“What does the paper say?”
She handed it over to him. “You read it. Same old thing. Car wrecks and Commies and the high cost of living. All I do any more is read the funnies. And they’re not funny.”
“That’s a fact.” He scanned the paper briefly and pushed it away. “What’re we having for breakfast?”
While they were eating breakfast the rain picked up again and pounded heavily on the roof. There was no wind, just the straight hard rain.
“We’re in for a day of it with the kids,” Helen said. “I dread these kind of days when they can’t go out to play. Maybe get the sitter over so’s I can get out for a bit in the afternoon.”
“They wreck the place, don’t they?”
“Well, they get bored. You know how it is. They’ll sew and color and play dolls for a while, but around two or three in the afternoon they get restless and that’s when the trouble begins. Even Jimmy gets bored.”
“That’s when you need TV.”
“You said it. Shelley, why don’t you go down and see about one today? There’s no point in putting it off, and we’d all enjoy it so.”
“I could get the series, couldn’t I?”
“Come on, what do you say?”
“All right, I’ll go down right after lunch and see what they’ve got to offer.”
“What’s wrong with this morning?”
“It’s raining.”
“Oh, pooh. I bet you’ll put it off and won’t go at all. Why do you always put things off?”
“Well, for one thing, I’ve got to go to the bank and there’s no sense making two trips in the rain. I’ve got my check to deposit.”
“Isn’t the bank open this morning?”
“Yes, but it’s too crowded on Saturday morning. That’s when all the farmers come in to see about their loans. Don’t worry, I’ll go this afternoon. I promise you.”
“And will you buy one?”
“If they make me a nice deal, sure.”
“You can call it my anniversary present,” Helen said. “I won’t ask for another thing the rest of the year.”
Shelley laughed. “All right, you’re going to get your TV, don’t make a lot of rash statements.”
“You’re sweet, Shelley.”
“So are you.”
“No, I mean really. I’m ashamed of the way I nag you sometimes.”
“Is there any more toast?”
“No, but I’ll put some in.”
Dill and Preacher were sitting at a table and Harper was in the phone booth up near the front of the restaurant, making a long-distance call.
“What you going to have?” Dill said to Preacher.
“I don’t know. A couple of eggs and ham. Maybe a side order of hotcakes.”
“You’re going to eat all that this morning?”
“That’s right. I’m hungry.”
“How can you be hungry? With a day like’s ahead of us today I don’t see how you can have any appetite at all.”
“Why shouldn’t I have any appetite?”
“Aren’t you a little nervous? No, I guess you’re not,” Dill said. “You slept like a baby last night.”
“Sure I did. Anything wrong with that?”
“I bet you never even knew it rained. You didn’t even hear that storm we had, did you?”
“What if I didn’t? What’s wrong with getting a good night’s rest?”
Dill shook his head. “Nothing bothers you, does it, Preach?”
“You bother me.”
“I mean the nerves. I swear I don’t believe you got a nerve in your body. Me, I’ll do well to get down a cup of coffee and a sweet roll. You’re going to order the whole goddam menu.”
“I’ll
tell you what,” Preacher said. “Suppose you order what you want and let me order what I want. Okay?”
“Wise guy.”
“No, just minding my own business. It’s a good habit to get into. You ought to try it sometime.”
“All I said is what are you having for breakfast and he jumps down my throat.”
“You annoy me,” Preacher said. “You get on my nerves.”
“You haven’t got any nerves. How could I get on your nerves?”
“How about the underwear, did you change it this morning or not?”
“Go to hell.”
Preacher gave a high soft giggle. The waitress came over to the table then and handed each of them a menu. She put down two tumblers of water and two sets of silverware rolled tightly in paper napkins.
“There’s another party with us,” Dill said. “You’ll want to set another place.”
“All right,” the waitress said. She was a big girl with a wart in her eyebrow. “You want to go ahead and order or what?”
“I’ll order for him,” Dill said. “He told me what he wants. One egg sunny-side up, bacon, toast and coffee. I’ll have a cup of coffee and do you have sweet rolls?”
“No, doughnuts though.”
“All right, a cup of coffee and a doughnut.”
“You mean two doughnuts, don’t you?”
“No, just the one.”
“They come two in a package.”
“Look, I don’t care if they come twenty in a package. One doughnut is all I happen to want.”
“Okay,” the waitress said, giving him a hard look. “The man wants one doughnut.” She turned to Preacher. “What’s yours?”
“Mine’s a boy, what’s yours?”
“Ha, ha, very funny. Let me know whenever you get ready to order.”
“I’m ready now, only I don’t see it on the menu.”
“If it ain’t on there it ain’t for sale.”
Preacher looked at Dill and arched his eyebrows. “Must be for free then, eh, Dill?”
“Oh, go on and order for God sakes,” Dill said disgustedly.
“All right. Everybody’s a little nervous this morning. I’ll have a couple of scrambled eggs with ham, toast and coffee, plus a side order of hotcakes or either bashbrown potatoes if you haven’t got the cakes.”
“We got the cakes.”
“Cakes, then.”
When the waitress left the table Dill sighed and began to fumble with his silverware. “I don’t know,” he said. “I still got a feeling we’re going about this all wrong.”
“About what all wrong?”
“Coming down here ahead of time. Hanging around and letting everybody get a look at us.”
“Harper wanted to look things over good before we made our move.”
“I know what Harper wanted, but I still ain’t sure it was the smart thing to do.”
“All right, how would you of handled it, Einstein?”
“I wouldn’t have come here ahead of time like this, I’ll tell you that much. I wouldn’t have spent two days parading around letting everybody in town see me.”
“I’m not worried.”
“No, I know you’re not worried. In order to worry you got to first have something to worry with – a brain, in other words.”
“Now who’s the wise guy?”
“Take that waitress, for instance. She’s going to remember us for them as clear as a picture. That old coon at the hotel, he’s going to describe us too. Any number of people.”
“Just the same, it won’t help them any. Once we make Memphis it’s Katie bar the door.”
“Once we make Memphis,” Dill said. “Brother, don’t I hope you’re right though.”
“You got the willies, that’s all’s the matter with you, Dill.”
“Yep, I got the willies, all right. Like I never had them before. I’ve had the wrong feeling about this thing from the start. It sounds too easy somehow. Too pat. If you ask me, we better watch our step mighty careful along about three o’clock this afternoon.”
“Here comes Harp. Let’s see what he found out.”
Harper sat down and unrolled his knife and fork.
Preacher adjusted his hearing aid. “Well, what’s the deal?”
“He leaves Birmingham at ten o’clock,” Harper said. “That’ll put him in here around one.”
“He’s not coming here, I hope,” Dill said.
“No, what I mean is he’ll be in position by that time. I told him we’d come out and contact him around one-thirty or two.”
“In the car.”
“That’s right, in the car.”
“I wonder,” Dill said.
“You said last night you’d let me do all the worrying about the car.”
“I will. I’ll just be glad when it’s over, that’s all. Somehow, getting that car worries me more than anything.”
“What about the truck?” Preacher said.
“The truck is ready, Tennessee plates and all.”
“I hope that Slick don’t get spooked,” Dill said. “It’s one thing that worries me. I got no confidence in him.”
“Make up your mind which it is you’re going to worry about,” Preacher said. “The car or Slick.”
“I’ll worry about both of them till it’s over,” Dill said. “We’re not going about this right.”
“We’re going about it right,” Harper said. “You just try and settle down a little. Did you order for me?”
“Yeah.”
“And watch what you’re saying, too. We’re all talking too loud.”
“Dill managed to have a argument with the waitress,” Preacher said.
“Aw, that’s a damn lie. I didn’t either. Who was it tried to pick her up?”
“You call that trying to pick somebody up? I was just kidding around.”
“Whatever you were doing, knock it off,” Harper said. “Both of you.”
“Here comes our breakfast,” Dill said.
Boyd Fairchild awoke suddenly, as he always did the morning after a drinking party. One moment he was deep in oblivious sleep; the next moment he was wide awake without having moved any muscle except those of his eyelids. It was as if a switch had been thrown in his head. He lay there for a minute on his side looking at the pale yellow wallpaper three feet away, and then he heard the diminishing sigh of the commode and knew what it was that had waked him. As he rolled over he saw Emily coming out of the bathroom with a glass of Alka Seltzer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She was wearing only the top of her pajamas.
“How do you feel?”
“Like the wrath of God,” she said. “How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. It hasn’t dawned on me yet. Is there any Dexedrine left?”
“Afraid not.”
He watched her drain the glass and set it on the dresser. She stood very straight for a moment with her eyes closed, face pale. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed, leaned her elbows on her knees and began to rub her eyes with the heels of her hands.
“It’s raining,” she said.
“Is it? I guess the fishing trip’s off then.”
“What fishing trip?”
“Shelley and I had planned to go this afternoon.”
There was a silence for a while.
Emily looked around the room and groaned. “My God. Why do we do it, Boyd?”
“I don’t know. I’ve asked myself the same thing a thousand times.”
“This is the hangover of the year, no fooling. I feel like I had a hat on about three sizes too little for me. Know what I mean?”
He nodded. “Only with me it’s a big lead ball inside my head. Whenever I move, it rolls back and forth.”
“And sort of thuds?”
“That’s it.”
“I’ve got one of those too.”
She leaned forward again and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. The cigarette, held outward between her fingers, sent up a ribbon of smoke that followed the cu
rve of her head and spooled off into the air above her.
“Boyd,” she said without looking up, “we made love last night, didn’t we?”
There was a moment of silence.
“Did you use a thing?”
He looked at her, but she wouldn’t look back. She kept her face in her hands.
“No, I didn’t,” he said.
There was a longer silence.
“Well,” she said, “it was the wrong time of the month to get careless.”
This angered him. “Why do you have to say careless? Why do you always look at it that way?”
She said nothing.
“What’s the matter with you anyhow, Emily?”
“Nothing’s the matter with me except I’m young and I’d like to stay that way a little longer.”
“Is it going to make an old woman of you, just having one baby?”
“Oh, let me alone, I don’t feel like fighting. Not this morning, please.”
“I’m not fighting. I’m asking a simple question. I don’t understand you, Emily. Sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”
“Neither do I.”
They were silent again, hearing the rain outside which seemed to amplify the silence of the room. Boyd got up and walked carefully to the bathroom. He took a couple of aspirins, drank some water and brushed his teeth, and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth looked red and bruised. He tried to wash his face, but bending over the basin made him dizzy, so he wet a towel, wiped his face with it and let it go at that. When he went back to the bedroom Emily was sitting just as before, with her elbows on her bare knees. He looked at her and felt a little sorry for her.
“Nothing will come of it,” he said. “It’s not all that easy.”
“I suppose not.”
“Some people try for years without having a baby.”
She said nothing.
“You want me to make some coffee?”
“That would be nice,” she said. “We need something.”
He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “This is awful. Maybe we ought to go back to sleep awhile.”