The Complete Short Stories of James Purdy

by John Waters

  He raised both his hands then like a preacher who is about to invoke either a blessing or a request for their departing the premises.

  “The jewels, dear Mistress Hawley, and dear, dear young Rory Hawley, are not jewels or gems or precious gems or precious stones.”

  He waited a moment then, half-lifting both his arms.

  “They are candy! I repeat, candy!”

  Alexei Oblonsky then waited, perhaps expecting someone of those who had heard his verdict to say something. There was only a silence as deep as the word eternity itself.

  It was Vesta Hawley who broke the silence induced by the shock of the verdict by rising from her place of honor and advancing toward the Russian. But Moe Swearingen intervened and, whispering cautiously something to Vesta, persuaded her not to perpetrate whatever she intended to perpetrate, and which Moe, sensing danger, prevented.

  She pushed Moe away from her but then merely stood staring open-mouthed at the Russian.

  Hardly unaware of Vesta’s having tried to reach him, the Russian now spoke more at length.

  “They are very old, these candies. We have found similar confections in the tombs of Egypt. Time and chemistry and perhaps the eggs of wasps are in evidence—who can tell. I am only a jewel expert. Let us say then the vicissitudes of time have turned a box of birthday candies (here he bowed in the direction of Rory), turned them into a kind of sweet cement. Nonetheless some hot water in the kitchen allowed one of the gems to melt so that I could taste it and pronounce my verdict which is, alas, that the rubies are and were sweetmeats. Mummified of course, lost in time, and yet at first glance one is quite understandably pardoned in having thought them jewels of some sort, rubies, say. We have all been taken in, therefore. My first glance convinced me in fact we had before us rubies. We have been hoodwinked, you may feel, dear friends, but if hoodwinked, then by Father Time himself and by no human prankster.”

  Having spoken thus, Alexei Oblonsky sat or rather fell into the enormous chair he had sat in before, and he emitted queer little sounds that were either weeping, moaning, or perhaps again coughing, which resembled, in the mind of Dr. Cooke at least, almost the sound of a death rattle.

  THE NEWS THAT the rubies were not genuine but were, in fact, candy, spread not so much like wildfire through the entire village of Gilboa, but more like the effect of a huge meteorite which, falling, had struck all the palatial mansions of the town.

  There was especial sympathy and concern for Vesta Hawley; for everyone had assumed that the rubies would enable her to retain possession of her own mansion and perhaps allow her to welcome back her runaway son, Rory.

  Even Moe Swearingen himself was, if not pitied, at least pardoned for his many past deviations from the norm. He had at least, by summoning a famous jewel expert, attempted to establish the authenticity of the gems, even though his attempt had revealed the jewels were bogus.

  The scandal of the false rubies even broke into print across the nation, and reporters from New York City and Chicago visited Gilboa and made an attempt to interview Vesta Hawley, her son Rory, and Moe Swearingen. But in vain. These main dramatis personae indeed were as impossible to reach as if they were some kind of royalty and the rubies were genuine.

  Though there was no reason for the brass band to play or the torchlights to parade about the town, somehow each evening for quite a while this was exactly what occurred. Young men carrying banners which were illuminated by the torches assembled in front of Moe’s Villa and Vesta Hawley’s mansion. On these banners one could make out messages such as:

  WE LOVE YOU VESTA

  COME WHAT WILL

  and before Moe Swearingen’s Villa another fluttering banner could be deciphered, to wit:

  MOE, WE HONOR AND COMMEND

  YOU AND YOR VILLA

  If before Gilboa had some fame for the renowned splendour of some of its mansions, from this time forward the village became equally famous for the episode of the false rubies.

  From then on Vesta Hawley was said to wear only black mourning attire and was seldom or never afterwards seen in public.

  A rumour also spread that Moe Swearingen had taken papers of adoption for Vesta’s son Rory, but this was never proved, and no adoption evidently ever took place.

  Stung as both mother and son were by this whim of Fortune, it was Rory who now began visiting his mother almost every evening for the duration of an hour or so. It is thought she obtained his pardon for never having given him on their arrival the box of candies from his scapegrace father, Peter Driscoll. For, as Vesta was reported having said, according to Frau Storeholder, “Had you and I eaten the candies on their arrival, as I suppose Pete meant us to, think of how different everything else would have turned out.”

  To meet the demand of the bank and Vesta Hawley’s other creditors, Moe Swearingen, who was after all one of the most wealthy men in this part of the country, paid off all Vesta’s debts so that she was the sole mistress at last of her mansion.

  Did we say Vesta received no visitors except that of Rory? We hardly thought of mentioning Dr. Sherman Cooke in this regard, as he was now not so much a visitor as a permanent lodger at Vesta’s by reason in part that his wife, having passed away shortly after the scandal of the rubies, he more or less took his place as a star boarder at Vesta’s, chaperoned of course always by the ubiquitous everfaithful watchdog Frau Storeholder.

  THE END

  NO STRANGER TO LUKE

  The first Luke realized that people in town had heard someone was stealing from his mother���s kitchen cabinet was when he was having a haircut.

  Young Pete Snyder, the barber, holding the straight razor up high and about to shave his young customer’s neck, pressed his mouth close to Luke’s ear and confided: “I hear you have a thief at your house.”

  Luke gave a slight shudder not so much at the sight of the straight razor at so close an angle as Pete’s pronouncing the word thief.

  “You don’t have any suspicion who it is?” Peter queried.

  Luke shook his head, and Pete began moving the razor through the thick suds and around the back of Luke’s neck. Finished shaving, Pete took off the voluminous cloth covering Luke and bowed as the boy handed him the fifty-cent piece.

  “I hope you catch him, whoever he is,” Pete remarked as he opened the door for Luke.

  “I DON’T KNOW how Peter Snyder got wind of it,” Luke’s mother remarked that night at supper.

  She was what people in that small town call a grass widow, for Luke’s dad had deserted the family some years ago. Mother was a good-looking woman, still in relative youth.

  “Once you open your mouth in this town, Luke, somebody is sure to hear you, and that somebody talks,” Mother went on.

  Luke fingered the slight cut on the back of his neck caused by Pete’s shaving him, and then he winked just then at his younger brother, Vance, who sat always next to him at meals, for both boys were amused at their mother’s gift of gab.

  “But, boys,” she went on, “I have been worried all the same about losing money from the kitchen cabinet drawer. You know I keep all my change for the milkman and the grocery boy in that little cabinet.”

  Mother then recounted all over again that the thief had taken the money in such a hurry he had failed to close the drawer in the cabinet and had left it to remain open as if to show he didn’t care if she knew someone had stolen her money or not.

  “But it does begin to add up to quite an amount over time,” Mother finished.

  “I bet this little tattletale here told the barber,” Luke now turned his gaze on his younger brother, Vance.

  Vance colored under his summer tan and hung his head.

  “Now don’t start on Vance, Luke,” his mother warned.

  “That’s right, always take the side of your little favorite,” Luke sneered.

  OVER THE DISHPAN that night, Luke helped his mother dry the silverware and plates with a tea towel.

  “Sometimes I wonder about Dan Schofield,” Mother
said all at once.

  “Dan Schofield,” Luke showed real surprise.

  “Yes, Luke, your best friend,” she added in a kind of sudden indignation.

  “Well, I know it sounds far-fetched. You’re so fond of him too, I know,” Mother continued, “of course Dan comes from a good family. His folks are very well-off,” she backed down now a little.

  Luke frowned and waited, “You call him my best friend, Mama. But he calls on you and Vance more often than I see him. In fact Pete Snyder once asked if you was going steady with Dan!”

  “Pete Snyder,” his mother scoffed. “He would say that. Going steady with a boy young enough to be my own son! I declare.”

  Luke’s mother had always pooh-poohed any importance to her going out with some eligible gentleman or other. “A person does get lonesome for the company of someone her own age, and a little company with an older gentleman isn’t anything serious. But Dan Schofield, for heaven’s sake! What a thing to say!” She laughed uneasily now at her own remark.

  Luke was also a little jealous of how his mother always was praising Dan. She pointed out how he could play the piano like a concert pianist, and she recalled he often gave her presents and flowers on St. Valentine’s Day and Easter.

  “Poor Dan would be heartbroken if he knew we suspected him,” Luke spoke somewhat sarcastically.

  His mother all at once became thoughtful. She looked critically at the tumbler she had just scalded.

  “What is it, Mama?” Luke saw her change of mood.

  “The truth is, Luke, the thefts do seem to occur only when Dan has been here.”

  Luke put down the tea towel and shook his head.

  His mother, sensing how upset Luke was, thanked him for helping her dry the dishes and gave him a stealthy kiss.

  “We mustn’t let on about this, Luke, to outsiders. And after all we have no proof it is Dan.”

  Mother feared Luke’s hot temper, and she recalled the quarrels Luke had always had with his dad. Once Luke struck his father with a monkey wrench during an argument. It had frightened the boy so much he hid all night in the cellar where she found him lying in an old hammock near the furnace room. She had smoothed his hair and let him cry.

  Perhaps Luke thought his mother saw he was thinking back now on all the good times he used to have with Dan. Lately, however, Dan had been seeing his younger brother Vance more than he did Luke, and Luke was somewhat jealous of this change in Dan’s feelings for him.

  Tonight Luke sauntered out on the front porch where Vance was seated. Luke came to the point of what he wanted to say at once.

  “What do you make of Mama’s fear that maybe it’s Dan who has been stealing from the cupboard drawer?”

  Just to be contrary, Vance pretended not to have any opinion about it.

  “But you see Dan now more than I do,” Luke went on, and he sat down on the porch swing beside his brother.

  When Vance was silent and pouted, Luke gave him a shove. Vance was afraid of Luke who often “socked” him when they had an argument. And the mention of Dan as a thief frightened him. Then, too, Vance had once dreamed that his brother had killed him, and he had told his mother one day when she was ironing the clothes about his dream. She had put the iron down on its holder and stared at him. “You mustn’t put any store on dreams, dear. They often mean the opposite.” But Vance could see she was frightened.

  “Did you tell Pete Snyder about the thefts?” Luke wondered.

  “No,” Vance was more communicative now, “all I know is what Mama has already told you. That she found the cupboard drawer pulled open with some of the string hanging out. Her small change was gone. I never said boo to anybody about it.”

  “And the long and short of it is your Dan took the money!” Luke said your Dan because Vance and Dan were chums now and often went swimming together in the summer and in the winter patronized the pool parlors or the movies. “I think you know something you’re not telling me,” Luke went on, puffing on a cigarette. Luke was smoking one of his mother’s cigarettes.

  Vance could see that Luke did not really enjoy smoking. He coughed a lot while doing so and was constantly removing little bits of tobacco from his teeth. Luke was proud of his white teeth and feared smoking would turn them to be dingy, for his secret ambition was to be a movie star or a nightclub singer. But tonight Luke was nervous and smoked.

  “Could it be you know something you’re not telling me,” Luke went on puffing on his smoke, and he all at once gave Vance a push. Vance could hear the anger coming out from his brother. Luke kept swallowing so hard then in his riled mood that Vance laughed. Vance loved to mock Luke whenever he dared, although he was afraid usually to do so.

  “Tell you what,” Luke now rose from the porch swing. “I think after all I should have a talk with Dan then,” he said, the cigarette hanging out of his teeth in the manner of a movie star he copied after.

  “A lot you’ll get out of Dan, Luke.”

  “Is that so?” Luke responded, and at that moment he sounded exactly like their absent dad. And if Vance had told his brother he sounded like his father, he would have beat the tar out of him.

  “And think how rich Dan’s parents are,” Luke spoke moodily.

  Vance shrugged his shoulders which annoyed Luke. He felt his younger brother knew a lot more about the theft than he was letting on. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he was angry, but this time instead of punching Vance he merely said: “See you keep an eye then on Dan, why don’t you.”

  Luke opened the screen door, then went on inside.

  “WHAT IS IT, Luke?” his mother looked up when he entered the little alcove that led to her bedroom. She had put her hair in curlers, and her face was covered with vanishing cream.

  Luke had almost never come into her own private room at this hour, and she knew he must be troubled.

  “You’ve been worrying about Dan Schofield, Luke.” She wiped some of the vanishing cream off her face with a fancy white cloth.

  “As I said, we can’t be positive after all it’s him,” she spoke in a conciliating manner, but she kept her eyes averted from him.

  “I thought you told Vance you knew it was him.”

  She straightened one of her sheer hose from above her high heels and hesitated. “I said it only does seem to happen when Dan comes to see us.”

  “Is that proof then that it’s him?”

  “If it is him, Luke, then why does he do it?”

  “Yes, why! Why can’t you at least admit for once and all then Mama he’s the thief!”

  There was a note of real irritation in Luke’s voice, and his mother winced because, like his father, Luke had a fearful temper.

  “I think maybe you’ve spoiled Dan,” he grumbled.

  “Not any more than I’ve spoiled you and Vance maybe.”

  “It’s true what some people say, for one thing you’ve always acted like Dan was one of your fellows. Yes, your beaux!”

  His mother drew in her breath and was silent. She looked in a little hand mirror and touched quickly where some of the night cream remained.

  “I can’t understand if it’s Dan who steals, why he steals, when his family is more than well off; and Dan for all practical purposes has the big house all to himself since his people are gone most of the year.

  “I don’t like Dan being so thick with Vance, either,” Luke shut his eyes as he said this.

  “But Dan is no stranger to you! You used to see more of him than little Vance ever does.”

  “Used to is right,” Luke answered hotly. “I seldom see him anymore at all, except of course when he comes to see you!”

  “Luke!” his mother spoke in an almost syrupy manner. “The good thing about Vance seeing Dan, Luke, is Dan has been teaching him to swim, and they sometimes go hiking together. Vance is not very popular with boys his own age as you know. Being able to go with Dan has been a good thing for the boy.”

  “But if he is a thief!”

  His mother made a d
eprecating expression then.

  “So then you don’t think it matters if Dan steals,” Luke sneered.

  “Don’t misquote me, Luke, and don’t go,” she asked him, for Luke began to move toward the door. She wiped nearly all the night cream from her face and stood up. “I don’t suppose you would want to talk to Dan,” she said. “At his house maybe.”

  When Luke said nothing in return, she went on: “It’s a great pity if he steals.” She spoke as if she was thinking aloud. “Dan is quite talented in his own right—not only plays the piano beautifully, but is a good dancer. He lost two years from high school when he was in the navy, so he’s older than the boys in his class.”

  When Luke remained silent, his mother continued: “So I don’t guess you would want to speak to Dan then.”

  “About his going steady with you,” Luke joked now.

  “Oh, Luke, please, that’s not at all funny.”

  “I’ll speak to him if you say so, Mama.”

  “I’ll leave that up to you,” she spoke icily.

  “Oh, I suppose I could sound him out.”

  “Yes, maybe it would be a good thing if you did sometime.” She smiled encouragingly.

  Luke sighed on the word sometime.

  “Maybe it will all stop of itself, Luke,” his mother said, and she looked pleadingly at her older boy.

  “I’m afraid if he is a thief, it won’t.”

  His mother shook her head. “I suppose you may be right.”

  Luke bent down then and kissed her on her face, the residue of the vanishing cream and all. They both laughed then that he would kiss her with some of her night cream still on.

  LUKE HAD NEVER been inside Dan’s house. He had forgotten, if he ever knew, how much larger and more imposing it was than where he and Vance lived with their mother. He almost lost his courage as he stood before the heavy front door with the golden knocker. He rapped, but there was no answer. He was a bit surprised when, as he grasped the gleaming brass doorknob, the door opened easily under his touch.