Charlie Martz and Other Stories: The Unpublished Stories

by Elmore Leonard

  Tonight of all nights, Elaine thought. All morning she had planned how she would tell him. She would wait for him to sit down with the paper. (She could picture him turning to the sports section. Wednesday night: he’d be studying next Saturday’s football schedule, picking out four or five teams to play on the odds card.) She would bring him a bottle of beer then lean close to him so he’d be looking right into her eyes. “Roy, do you notice anything?” He’d make a funny crack and then she would tell him. “Roy, I’m pregnant. I’m sure of it this time!”

  No, she thought now. Say it some other way. She had been sure three times before. Three times in the seven years of their marriage and nothing had happened. But this time she was sure. She had only thought she was those other times. “Roy, I was sick this morning!” Telling him in the sound of her voice what a wonderful feeling it was to be sick that way—after seven years. “That’s why I’m really sure. I never was sick those other times!”

  But the haircut—

  Well, he would see it right away. There was no getting around that. But he’ll get used to it, she thought. And then he’ll love it. Telling him about the baby, almost at the same time, she considered perfect timing.

  It was ten minutes to six when Roy came in, and he did notice her hair right away.

  “What happened to you?” He peeled off his jacket and dropped it over the arm of a chair. He was wearing a red and white jersey with FALCONS lettered across the front of it. He was of medium build, but not more than five foot seven and sometimes, when he walked, he held his arms out as if he were conscious of the muscles in them.

  Elaine came to him from the dinette. She was smiling. “Like it?” She turned her face to let him see both profiles.

  He looked at her sullenly. “You look like you got your head caught in a fan.”

  “It’s the Italian cut.”

  “That makes it all right?”

  “It’s the latest thing.”

  “There’s a guy on a drill press at work got hair just like that. He’ll be glad to know it.”

  Elaine shrugged. “All right, you don’t like it.”

  “For seven years your hair’s long, like a woman’s supposed to be; then one day I come home and find you looking like a guy and I’m supposed to like it.”

  “Roy, all summer it was so hot—”

  “So when it starts to get winter you have it cut off.”

  “You might as well get used to it.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Well, they can’t glue it back on.”

  “How much did it cost?”

  “Six dollars.”

  “Six bucks for that!”

  “Roy, he had to do more than just cut it. It had to be styled, and set—”

  “Was this guy an Eyetalian that cut it?”

  “I don’t know. He said my hair was perfect for it.”

  “What’d you expect him to say?”

  “Roy, why don’t we just forget it?”

  “You’d have to keep your hat on.”

  Elaine turned and walked to the kitchen.

  “Get me a beer,” Roy called after her. He sat down in the big chair across from the televison set and picked up the evening paper, glancing at the headline (something about a pact OK’d), and turned immediately to the sports section.

  “Here’s your beer,” Elaine said.

  He dropped one side of the paper and took the bottle from her, raised it, and drank it down to the top of the label before lowering it. Then he looked at Elaine, who was still standing in front of him. “Thanks.”

  “How many does that make?” she asked.

  “How many what?”

  “Beers.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “You weren’t working overtime.”

  “So I must’ve stopped by a tavern.”

  “Well, didn’t you?”

  “No.” He took another gulp of beer, set the bottle down, and picked up the newspaper from his lap.

  “All right, then you didn’t have a drink,” Elaine said. She turned to the kitchen.

  Roy lowered the newspaper. “You gotta know, don’t you?”

  She looked back at him, but did not speak.

  “I told you I was going to be late. I told you we were having election of officers right after work.”

  Elaine frowned. “I don’t remember. Officers for what?”

  “The bowling league!”

  Elaine shook her head. “I don’t remember you telling me that.”

  “But you remembered to get an Eyetalian haircut.”

  She was thinking: there’s no sense driving it into the ground. She walked out to the kitchen, hearing him get up and follow her. He stood in the doorway as she put the hamburgers under the broiler.

  “I got nominated for president.”

  She glanced at him. “Then what do you look so glum about?”

  “I got nominated, not elected.”

  “When do they vote?”

  “Tomorrow after work. We didn’t have time today.”

  “Well, you’ll be elected tomorrow then.”

  “I got nominated the last one,” he said bitterly. “On a fluke!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Grady’s name was in for it. Him an’ another guy. But Grady got up and said he didn’t want the job. He said he wanted to nominate me instead.”

  “Well?”

  “I don’t want no charity.”

  “That’s not charity.”

  “What do you call it? I organized the league. Five years ago I organized the whole deal and got it going. And not once—not one damn time am I the president! Grady feels like a big shot and puts my name in. I’m a substitute for a guy who don’t even want to be president!”

  Elaine rinsed her hands and dried them on a dish towel. “I think that was pretty nice of him.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “Somebody must’ve seconded it.”

  “After Grady made a speech.”

  “Well, Roy”—she smiled—“maybe you just weren’t cut out to be a politician.”

  “I organized the league!”

  “You’ve been a team captain. Roy’s Boys.”

  “Team captain isn’t president.”

  “Why don’t you wait and see?”

  During dinner, Elaine turned on the television when she saw Roy was not going to talk and she watched a panel show while they ate. But when they were finishing their coffee she said, “Grady and Inez are coming up after a while.”

  Roy looked up. “What for?”

  “Just to be sociable.”

  “I don’t feel like being sociable.”

  “You can watch the fights. I felt like talking to Inez.”

  “You want to show her your hair?”

  “That’s part of it.” She watched Roy get up and go into the living room. He sat down and picked up the sports section, not looking at her.

  Grady and Inez came up at five minutes to nine. Inez thought Elaine’s hair was perfect. Should have been short a long time ago! Elaine was watching Roy. She saw him look at Inez disgustedly, then he turned to the television and switched channels.

  “Who’s fighting?” Grady said.

  Roy shrugged. “A couple of clowns.”

  “It might be a good one,” Grady said.

  “You want a beer?” Roy asked him.

  “What do you think I came up for?”

  “I asked you if you wanted a beer.”

  Grady’s face sobered. “Yeah, I want one.” He was a heavyset pleasant-faced man nearing forty and losing his hair. “What’s the matter with you?” he said to Roy.

  Roy ignored him, looking at Inez and Elaine. “What about you?”

  Elaine nodded and Inez said, “Fine.” She added, laughing, that the beer commercials on the fights made her thirsty, but Roy walked out as she was saying it.

  When he came back in with the bottles of beer between his fingers Grady was looking at
the sports section.

  “Roy, you pick your teams yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You can’t beat those bookies. They hit the point odds right on the nose—then take ties. They can’t lose.”

  “You got to know how to play them,” Roy said.

  “Who do you like, for instance?” Grady said.

  “State and thirteen.”

  Grady shook his head. “They got no quarterback.”

  “What’re you talking about! What’s his name, Buddy—”

  “He’s too small,” Grady said.

  “Small!” Roy was standing looking down at Grady. “I played quarter at a hunnert and thirty-two pounds!”

  “Roy, that was in high school.”

  “So what!”

  “They didn’t use a T then,” Grady said mildly. “A quarterback today’s got to be big enough to throw the ball over his linemen.”

  Elaine saw the color rise in Roy’s face and she felt relief when Inez called his name and he stopped whatever he was about to say and looked at her.

  “Grady,” Inez said, smiling, “told me you’re up for president of the bowling league.”

  Roy was staring at her now. “Is that how he said it?”

  Inez laughed. “I don’t know if those were the exact words.”

  “That’s what I want to hear: the exact words.”

  Inez tried to smile. “You sound like a lawyer.”

  “And you sound like you’re changing the subject,” Roy said. He was standing in front of the television set. Behind him the first round had already started. “I want to know how he really said it,” Roy insisted.

  “That’s what he said. He said you were up for president.” She glanced at Elaine saying it.

  “Roy,” Elaine said. “Your fight’s going on.”

  “Didn’t he say,” Roy went on, still looking at Inez, “‘I threw Roy a bone this afternoon. He looked like a hungry dog, so I threw him a bone.’”

  Grady stared at him in astonishment. “Roy, what’s the matter with you?”

  “Isn’t that what you said, Grady? Maybe not in those words, but something like it.” He tried to mimic Grady’s voice; he was not close to imitating it, but they knew that’s what he was doing, saying, “‘Inez, Roy means well, even if he don’t have too much between the ears. So I thought I’d make him feel good and put his name up. Had a hell of a time getting somebody to second it. Had to make a speech. He won’t get it, but it’ll make the little runt feel good.’”

  Grady said, “Roy, you think you’re being funny?”

  Roy glared at him. “Isn’t that how you meant it?”

  Grady rose, looking at his wife. “I think we better be going.”

  Roy said curtly, “I think so too. We don’t need any charity tonight. When we do I’ll call either you or the Goodwill.”

  Elaine did not move. She watched Roy, even as Grady and Inez went by her to the door, Inez saying something half-whispered which she did not hear clearly. Her eyes rose as Roy passed her following them to the door. She heard the door open, and then slam. Suddenly she was aware of the crowd at the boxing arena screaming and whistling. The camera showed a close-up of the ring and she saw that one of the fighters was down, the referee bending over swinging his arm, counting. Counting to ten. It was all over in the first round.

  Roy passed her again. He sat down on the edge of his chair and leaned forward as if engrossed in the ring announcer’s description of the judges’ scoring the fight. He took a swallow of beer and lit a cigarette, not taking his eyes from the television screen.

  Elaine sat still. She felt uncomfortably self-conscious, and now, without reason, she pictured her hair looking almost ridiculous and she wished she had not had it cut. At least not today. There were things she wanted to say to Roy, feeling her anger grow as she looked at him, but they were obvious things and would only make him madder. She wanted to say something sarcastic, but the right words wouldn’t form in her mind.

  Roy stood up, switching off the television, and turned to her abruptly. “Now I get the silent act.”

  Elaine raised her eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  Damn him! “Well”—she kept her voice calm—“do you think you behaved like a normal human being?” Oddly, then, she could not help thinking: he must feel silly standing there with FALCONS written across his chest.

  “When I get a deal like that I act how I feel!”

  She felt the anger again and said, unexpectedly, “Roy, why don’t you grow up!”

  His face colored. “You sit there with that screwball haircut and tell me why don’t I grow up!”

  “Now why would you take it out on my hair?”

  “Where do you get off telling me to grow up—that’s what I want to know! You’re perfect—never do nothing wrong. I come home after I get a rough deal—I got something important on my mind—and all you talk about is that stupid-lookin’ haircut!”

  Elaine was standing now, almost stiffly. “Why do you keep bringing up my hair?” she said, not keeping her voice calm any longer. “You know why? I’ll tell you why. Because when something goes against you you’re not man enough to face the facts. You have to blame something else, like my hair, that doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it. You have to hear yourself yell so you’ll still think you’re a big shot. The great athlete! You’ve been out of high school for twelve years, but nobody’d ever know it. You’re still a hundred-and-thirty-two-pound quarterback. You’re still a flashy shortstop because you know how to crease a baseball cap the right way. You’re the great bowler—all form and no score! You know how to outfigure the football bookies—but you always lose! You know how to do everything—but nothing right! You know why they don’t want you for a president? Because your lousing everything up wouldn’t be bad enough—all season they’d have to listen to you blowing off about being president!”

  Roy stood with his hands on his hips, his face drawn and tensed. There was a silence, and then he said, “You through?”

  Elaine hesitated. “One last thing,” she said. She leaned forward slightly, as if for emphasis. “Grow up!”

  Roy stared at her for a moment. Then he walked past her, picking up his jacket as he went out.

  The door slammed. She closed her eyes and seemed to relax then, her breath coming out in a slow sigh. That was that.

  Now he’ll go out and get plastered, she thought. That’s supposed to solve everything. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said the things she did. Well, it was done now. And strangely enough she felt a little better for it. Let him go out and get drunk. If he thinks he’s got something on his mind now, wait till he wakes up tomorrow with a hangover.

  She took the beer bottles and glasses to the kitchen, and returning, she caught her reflection in the dinette mirror. She stopped and looked at her hair. There was nothing the least bit ridiculous about it. She saw her eyes then. She leaned closer to study them—as she had been doing for almost two weeks—and it dawned on her that she had not told Roy about the baby.

  It was ten when she went to bed.

  It was almost two in the morning when she finally heard Roy come in. She could hear him in the living room. Then the light went on in the bathroom and without raising her head from the pillow she saw him momentarily in the bedroom doorway. The water ran in the bathroom for a long time before he came out, switching off the light. He stumbled against the foot of the bed, swearing under his breath. She could feel the mattress sink on his side as he sat down, and a moment later, she heard his shoes hit the floor. He stood up, taking off his pants, then flopped down again, the bedsprings squeaking. He didn’t bother to remove the jersey but lay back with a long moaning sigh, and a moment later, he was breathing evenly, sound asleep.

  Elaine was on her right side, her back to him, and her eyes were open in the darkness. She could picture him lying on his back, his mouth slightly open. Now, and until the alarm went off, with nothing to worry hi
m. Lying peacefully, with FALCONS written across his chest.

  Feeling him close behind her, it went through her mind: you made your bed, now lie in it. But she was immediately sorry she thought this, even coming to her mind as it did; because now, picturing Roy, she felt sorry for him. He wants to be somebody, she thought. That’s all it is. He wants a little recognition. There’s nothing wrong with that. But he doesn’t have as much patience as most people. He’s not so easily satisfied. My gosh, you can’t blame the guy for wanting to win. She started to think: but that’s no excuse for being a poor loser—And she put it out of her mind, picturing him again.

  He was good-looking—not overly tall and his hair was starting to go back—but better-looking than most men. So what if he did like to flex his muscles. At least he had them to flex.

  He brought home over ninety dollars a week, and he liked his work. (“Honey . . . you see the castings come off this automation station and I drop her into load position . . . transfer her down . . . drop her into the tank . . . then I got fifteen seconds to spot a leak and mark it . . .”)

  Most men came home, buried their faces in the paper and didn’t say anything. Inez was always complaining: “Grady never talks. He sits down with one of these pocket books and I don’t hear from him all evening.”

  You couldn’t say Roy didn’t talk.

  Still, she thought, there was no excuse for the way he acted. And she became angry again thinking about it. Let him get his own breakfast tomorrow!

  She thought of something else after that, so she would be able to fall asleep.

  She was awake before Roy, before the alarm went off, but she remained in bed pretending to be asleep until he dressed and left the apartment, not bothering about breakfast.

  Elaine got up thinking: You can’t even force the guy to do penance. He’ll get a better cup of coffee at the plant than I make. And she thought now: but please, God, at least make him be hungover.

  Roy got home that evening at five-thirty. Elaine came out of the kitchen hearing the front door. She stood across the room from him as he took off his jacket and dropped it on the arm of the chair.

  Roy looked at her unconcernedly. “Hi.”

  “Hi. How do you feel?”

  “Pretty good.”