by Gore Vidal
Suddenly he was aware Collins was talking. The subject? He waited until he caught the word Seattle.
“I’ll show you around. I really know that town like nobody’s business. Show you these girls I know, Swedes, Norwegians…you know, blonde.” His eyes shone. “You’ll be real popular. I was when I was your age. Oh, they all used to make a fuss over me. They used to roll dice to see who was going to go with me. I was something, I guess. You’ll be the same way because they like young guys.”
Jim was going to ask more but they were interrupted by the steward, a tall lean Scot with no sense of humor. “Willard, Collins, why’re you not working?”
They fled.
On deck the wind was cold and sharp and full of spray. Jim squinted in the wind as he made his way to the plump woman’s cabin.
He rapped on the door. “Come in.”
His admirer wore a pink silk dressing gown that made her look somewhat heavier than she actually was. She was cleaning her nails. A strong smell of salt and gardenia perfume was in the air.
“Late today, aren’t you?”
He mumbled agreement as he took the broom out of the locker and began to sweep, quickly, self-consciously. She watched him.
“Have you been a sailor long?”
He kept on cleaning. “No, ma’am.”
“I didn’t think you had. You’re not very old, are you?”
“Twenty-one,” he lied.
“Well, you had me fooled. You certainly look younger than that.” He wished she would stop talking. She went on. “Whereabouts are you from?”
“Virginia.”
“Really? I have relatives in Washington, D.C. You know where that is, don’t you?”
He was amused and irritated. She obviously thought him simple. But he played the desired role. Nodding vaguely, he opened the cabin door and swept the dirt out onto the deck. “Where did you learn such housekeeping?” She was endlessly inventive in her lust.
“Just came natural, I reckon,” he said, mouth slightly ajar, idiot boy catching flies.
“Oh, really?” She was unaware that he was giving a performance. “I’ll bet you never did that back home, did you?”
He said oh, yes, and began to make the bed, first brushing out the cigarette ashes. She continued to babble. “My friends in Washington say Virginia is lovely. I went to see the Blue Ridge Mountains once. You know where they are, don’t you?”
This time he said no, and looked bewildered. She was informative. “I went all through those caverns underneath the mountains and they were very interesting, with all those stone things growing down and the others up. Is your mother alive? Are your family living in Virginia?”
He replied accurately.
“My, but your mother must be almost as old as I am,” said the plump woman, making her first tentative move.
“I expect she is,” he said evenly, taking the round on points.
“Oh.” She was silent. He worked quickly; there were other cabins to be done.
“This is my first trip to Alaska,” she said at last. “I have relatives in Anchorage. You’ve been to Anchorage, haven’t you?” He nodded. “It’s very civilized for Alaska, don’t you think so? I mean I always thought of Alaska as being like the North Pole, all ice and snow. But Anchorage is just like a small town anywhere and they’ve got trees and beauty parlors, just like in the States. ‘Outside,’ they call the States. Isn’t that a funny way to refer to the rest of the world? ‘Outside’? I enjoyed myself very much visiting my relatives and so on. But you’ve traveled around a lot for someone so young, haven’t you? I’ll bet you’ve had some interesting experiences.”
“Not so many.” He finished making her bunk. When she saw he was ready to leave, she said quickly, “Oh, you’re going to fix that porthole thing for me, aren’t you? It keeps rattling all the time and I can’t sleep at night.”
He looked at the porthole cover and saw that a screw was loose. With his thumbnail he tightened it. “I don’t think it’ll bother you anymore,” he said.
She got up, pulling her silk dressing gown tight at the throat, and joined him at the porthole.
“Aren’t you clever! Why, I tried all night long last night to fix that thing and I couldn’t.”
He moved toward the door.
She spoke again, quickly, as though to prevent him from leaving by her talk. “My husband used to be good at fixing things. He’s dead now, of course. He’s been dead since 1930, but I’ve a son back home. He’s much younger than you. He’s just starting college….” Jim felt as if he were being pushed to the edge of a cliff. With a son his age, she was trying to seduce him. Suddenly homesick, lost, he wanted to run away, to hide, to vanish. She was still talking as he opened the door and stepped out onto the wet, shining deck.
* * *
—
But he had no time to be lonely that evening. There was a party for the passengers, and it was a hard evening for the messboys.
The saloon was decorated with imitation holly and shedding branches of pine, which the steward had thoughtfully brought from Anchorage. Not until two in the morning did the last passenger leave the smoky saloon. Then the steward, red-faced and sweating, congratulated the messboys and wished them a Merry Christmas and told them that they could have their own party in the saloon.
Tired as they were, they managed to drink a good deal. Jim drank beer and Collins drank bourbon from a bottle given him by a young girl passenger. Then some of the men started to sing and soon everyone sang loudly, to show what a good time they were having. As Jim continued to drink beer, he felt a certain affection for the others. Together they would sail forever back and forth between Seattle and Anchorage until the ship sank or he died. Tears came to his eyes as he thought of this beautiful comradeship.
Collins was drunk now. “Come on, boy,” he said, “stop being so gloomy.”
Jim was hurt. “I feel fine,” he said. “I’m not gloomy.” Then he did become sad. “But I never thought that I’d be ’way up here last Christmas, be here on Christmas Day one year when a year ago I was home.” He was not sure if this made sense but it had to be said.
“Well,” said Collins happily, “I know I never thought I’d go to sea, back in Oregon where I lived. Old man was in the lumber business. Outside Eugene. Wanted me to go in the business, too, but I had to go places and so I went. But sometime, maybe, I’ll go back. Settle down. Raise a family….” His voice trailed off, bored with what he was saying. Then he stood up shakily and together they left the saloon. The night was cold and clear. The clouds were gone and across the shifting black water the peaks of Alaska were visible, defined by starlight.
Exhilarated, Jim breathed the cold air deeply.
“Some night,” he said. But Collins was only interested in keeping his balance as they walked forward to the fo’c’sle.
The fo’c’sle was triangle-shaped with double-deck bunks and bare lightbulbs overhead, and heavy with the smell of too many men living in too small a place.
Jim had an upper bunk; Collins slept below him. Groaning to show how tired he was, Collins sat down on his bunk. “I’m wore out.” He took off his shoes and stretched out. “I can’t wait to get to Seattle. You never been there, have you?”
“Just passed through.”
“Well, I’ll show you ’round these dives I know. They know me at all the waterfront places. And I’ll get you a girl. A real good one. What do you like?”
Jim was uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he said. “Almost anything.”
“Hell, you got to be particular or you’ll catch something awful. Me, I never caught anything…yet.” He touched the wooden side of his bunk. “Get you a blonde, they’re best. Natural blondes, I mean. Swedes, that kind. You like blondes?”
“Sure.”
Collins pushed himself up on his elbow and looked at Jim, suddenly alert. �
�Hey, I’ll bet you’re a virgin.”
Jim flushed and couldn’t think of anything to say; the pause was enough.
“I’ll be damned.” Collins was delighted. “I never thought I’d find a guy who was. Well, we’ll be real careful about the girl. How come you waited so long? You’re eighteen, aren’t you?”
Jim was embarrassed. He cursed himself for not having lied as all of them did about their affairs. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, trying to dismiss it. “There wasn’t much chance back home.”
“I know just the girl for you. Name’s Myra. Professional but nice, and clean. She don’t drink or smoke and because she don’t drink she takes care of herself. She won’t give you no dose. I’ll get you and Myra together.”
“I’d like to meet her,” said Jim, and the beer he had drunk made him excited at the idea. He dreamed occasionally of women, but most often he dreamed of Bob, which disturbed him when he thought about it.
“I’ll show you around,” said Collins, undressing. “I’ll show you one good time. Yes, sir, I know my way ’round.”
II
IT WAS ALREADY EVENING when Collins and Jim left the ship. Collins wore a brown suit with red checks. Jim wore a gray suit that was already too tight in the shoulders. He was still growing. Neither wore a tie.
They took a streetcar to the theater district. Jim wanted to see a movie but Collins told him there was no time for that. “First we find us a room.”
“I thought we were going to stay with these girls you been telling me about.”
Collins gestured. “How do I know if they’re in town, or if they ain’t already booked for tonight? We’ll get us a room; then we’ll have a place to take whoever we find.”
“You know a place like that?”
“I know a lot of places.”
They found what they were looking for not far from the waterfront, in a street where the buildings were red brick and dingy and there were many bars, crowded with seamen prowling.
A bald wrinkled man sat behind a desk at the top of a long flight of flimsy steps. He was the proprietor of the Regent Hotel.
“We want a room for tonight,” said Collins, and he put his lower jaw out to show that he meant what he said.
“Double room?”
Collins nodded and so did Jim.
The bald man said, “Pay in advance, two dollars apiece.” They paid in advance. “I don’t want no loud noise or drinking or bringing women up here. You know the law, boys. You from a boat?”
“Yeah,” said Collins, his jaw still out.
“I was a sailor myself once,” said the bald man mildly. “But I don’t follow the sea no more.” He led them up two flights of steps, then down a dark, damp-smelling corridor to a small room. He turned on the light. The room was fairly clean, though the paint was flaking off the walls. A large iron bed was at the center of the room. A single window looked out upon the side of another brick building.
“Leave the key at the desk when you go out,” said the bald man. He looked around the room a moment, pleased with what he saw. Then he left.
“Isn’t this something?” Collins sat down on the bed and it creaked.
Jim was depressed. Though he had slept in worse places, he did occasionally wonder if he would ever again live in a room like his room in Virginia, a clean place with familiar walls.
“Come on,” said Jim, turning to the door. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too!” And Collins winked at Jim to show what he was hungry for.
They walked the dark streets, looking tough whenever they saw seamen, whistling boldly when any girls gave them the eye. It was good to be in Seattle on a clear winter night.
They stopped in front of a restaurant-bar. A neon sign announced spaghetti. “Here it is,” said Collins. “This is the place.”
“Where the girls are?” asked Jim.
“What else?” They went inside. The restaurant was large but only half-filled. A dark-haired waitress led them to a booth.
“So what’ve you got, honey?” Collins twinkled.
The waitress handed him a menu. “That’s what I got,” she said flatly and walked away.
“Stuck-up bitch,” commented Collins, and Jim saw that his charm was not infallible. “Women shouldn’t work anyway. Not with the Depression and all. They ought to stay home.”
Jim looked around the restaurant. Red booths, brown walls, yellow-shaded lights: a cavern somewhere in hell.
After spaghetti, Collins belched and then announced, “We’ll stay here awhile. Over there, at the bar. Then, if we don’t see nothing we want, we’ll go over to the Alhambra, this dance place where I know everybody.”
The bar was not crowded. They ordered beer. “Swell place,” said Collins, with a self-congratulatory air.
Jim agreed, adding somewhat maliciously, “Of course, they got hundreds of places like this back in New York.” Collins had never been to the East Coast.
Collins frowned at his beer. “Well, I’ll stick to little old Seattle.” He took a drink of beer. “I’ll bet,” he said, making a point, “that Hollywood has got New York beat a mile.” He knew that Jim had never been to Hollywood. “Yes,” he went on, pleased at his own tactic, “I’ll bet they got more pretty girls and crazy people and queers in L.A. than any other town.”
“Maybe so.”
Then the girl came up to the bar. Collins saw her first and nudged Jim. She was a slim girl with khaki hair, gray eyes, large features, large breasts. She sat down at the bar, smiling slightly. Red lips.
“What do you think of that?” murmured Collins.
“She’s pretty.”
“Real class, too,” said Collins. “Probably works in an office.” Apparently the bartender knew her because he said something to her in a low voice and they both laughed. He gave her a drink and she sat with it in her hand, watching the door.
“Here goes,” said Collins, and went toward the men’s room. On his way, he paused at the end of the bar. He looked at the girl, pretending to be puzzled by what he saw. He spoke to her. Jim couldn’t hear what he said but he could see her frown, then smile. They talked a moment. She looked at Jim. She smiled again. Collins gestured for Jim to join them.
“Jim, this is Emily.” They shook hands.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Emily, and her voice was husky and ladylike. Jim muttered a greeting.
“Don’t mind him. He’s real shy. We’re on the same ship. We only got in today.”
Emily was impressed, as she was supposed to be. “But you ought to be out on the town celebrating.”
“We plan to. But the night is young, like they say.”
“And so are we.” Emily took a tiny sip of her drink. “Is this your first visit to Seattle?”
Collins shook his head. “I been in and out of Seattle most of my life. I know this old town backward and forward. In fact, I was thinking of showing Jim here some of the sights.”
“Where are you from?” When Jim told her, she gave a little cry. “Oh, a Southerner! I love Southerners. They have such good manners. So you’re from Virginia.” She said Virginia as though it were Vur-gin-ee-ah. “But you haven’t got much of an accent, have you-all?” Emily and Collins laughed at her mimetic skill.
Jim smiled. “No,” he said, “I guess not.”
“By the way”—Emily turned to Collins—“what sort of sights had you planned on seeing tonight?”
“Well, I thought maybe we’d go over to the Alhambra….”
“Why, that’s my very favorite place! My girl friend and I go there a lot to dance. You meet such nice people there. Not the rough gang you get in some places.”
“Oh, you live with another girl?” Collins was on the scent.
Emily nodded. “We work in the same office and sometimes we go out on dates together. Tonight she was supposed to meet m
e here. Two boys she knows are coming into town (we think) and she was going to bring them here.”
“Oh hell.” Collins scowled and looked unhappy. “And here I was hoping maybe you and your friend could join Jim and me. You see the only girls I know in town happen to be away right now so I was hoping maybe…”
“Well,” said Emily thoughtfully, “I could call her up and find out whether they are definitely going to come tonight or not and if they aren’t…well, I think she would be glad to join us.”
And so it was that Emily went to the back of the bar to telephone her roommate.
“How’s that for operating?” asked Collins.
“Good.” Jim was genuinely impressed. “Do you think her girl friend will really come?”
“Are you kidding?”
“She’s pretty,” said Jim, watching the blonde girl through the glass door of the telephone booth. He appreciated her handsomeness, but he was not moved by her in the way Collins was. He wanted very much to be excited by her. But it was no use, at least not while he was sober. It was very odd.
Emily joined them at the bar, red lips smiling. “My friend, Anne, is going to meet us in a few minutes at the Alhambra. She said that our two friends are not coming after all. You know, some people are so undependable that way. So, as I said to her, it’s a lucky thing for us to have such a nice invitation from two boys just in town after such a long time at sea. Anne’s just crazy about the sea. Once they gave an office party, a picnic out on the Sound, and Anne went sailing with one of the fellows and they could hardly get her back to shore she liked it so much.”