“Of course it’s Ann’s business where she goes,” the mother said, “but I don’t think she ought to go to California just now.”
“Is she at the Stork?” Rock said.
“I’m not sure. Let me telephone a few places. If I find her, I’ll have her call you.”
Rock gave the mother the number, and then said, “Is she all right?”
“She’s been unhappy because you said you wouldn’t call her or see her again,” the mother said. “She’s been hanging around the house waiting for you to call.”
“She thinks we ought to get married,” Rock said. “Do you think we ought to?”
“I don’t know,” the mother said. “She’s very young.”
“That’s what I told her,” Rock said. “I’m thirty-three. She said she wouldn’t think of marrying a man who wasn’t thirty-three. She said she wants to learn Armenian. Do you think she could learn Armenian?”
“I don’t know,” the mother said. “It’s a rather difficult language, isn’t it?”
“Not after you get the hang of it,” Rock said. “Do you think she could learn to be the wife of an Armenian?”
“I don’t know,” the mother said. “Is an Armenian very different?”
“Very,” Rock said. “They order their women around and expect them to have a lot of children, keep house, cook, sew, sing, dance, and manage money. Do you think Ann ought to marry an Armenian?”
“I don’t know,” the mother said. “Are you drinking?”
“Yes,” Rock said. “I’m home. I’m in the house I was born in. It’s my grandmother’s house now. I’d put her on to talk to you, but you don’t speak Armenian.”
“No,” the mother said.
“She speaks Kurdish and Turkish, too,” Rock said, “but all I’d want Ann to speak would be Armenian. Do you think Ann ought to get into something like this? Or do you think you and I ought to decide that she’d better not?”
“I know she’d be furious if I said anything one way or another,” the mother said. “I know she’d like to speak to you. Let me call a few places and have her call you.”
“I wish you would,” Rock said, “but what do you think? If she decided she wanted to get into something like this, would you be unhappy?”
“I want Ann to be happy,” the mother said.
“In that case,” Rock said, “can you tell me what makes her happy?”
“Knowing someone loves her,” the mother said. “Do you love Ann?”
“Yes,” Rock said. “What else makes her happy?”
“She likes fine things,” the mother said. “She likes to shop. She likes to spend money. She likes to dress and go out and eat at the best restaurants and meet nice people. Ann likes to be seen. You know what Ann likes. Of course you do.”
“What else makes her happy?” Rock said.
“The things that make any girl happy,” the mother said. “Have you gotten a commission?”
“What’s that?” Rock said.
“A commission in the Army?” the mother said. “You must get a direct commission from the President. You must be at least a Captain.”
“Must I?” Rock said.
“Of course,” the mother said. “My husband can help you get a direct commission. He’s done it for others. You mustn’t waste yourself.”
“I don’t want a commission,” Rock said.
“You’ve got a brilliant mind,” the mother said. “My husband says your I.Q. must be very high. He says you’re very intelligent. You mustn’t waste yourself. Let him get you a commission.”
“I’d have to be a General,” Rock said. “He couldn’t get me a direct commission as a General, could he?”
“No, I don’t think they do that,” the mother said.
“I wish you’d fly out with Ann,” Rock said. “I’d like you to meet my family.”
“I can’t,” the mother said. “I’m going away for a month with my husband. He’s going on government business. We asked Ann to go with us, but she wouldn’t. She’s been irritable. I think she’s in love. I’ll find her and have her call you.”
“I’ll be waiting for Ann to call,” Rock said. “If she asks for your advice, tell her the right thing.”
“She won’t ask for my advice,” the mother said.
“Is that so?” Rock said. “She should. A girl should speak to her mother about everything that’s important to her.”
“Yes, I know,” the mother said. “She’s awfully independent. Always has been. And stubborn.”
“And beautiful,” Rock said. “Have a nice holiday, and thank your husband for saying I have a high I.Q. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” the mother said.
He hung up and took another swig from the bottle.
What does a man think? What does he ever think? All his life what does he think? What is his thought? What is his one thought which embraces all other thoughts? Is it the thought which is any animal’s? This? This animal? Myself?
Or does a man regret and hope all his life? I am losing time, I am forgetting, I am lonely, I am frightened. My sleep has grown troubled. My nerves are on edge. My skin is dry. My hair is falling out. My eyes are dull. The nails of my hands and feet are brittle. I am growing old. I am beginning to find all things tasteless. I am beginning to be bored with the good things as well as with the tiresome things. I am dying. I am dying, and I have no children.
I must have children. I must see my children.
Rock’s cousin took the telephone and dialed a number.
“Fox?” he said. “Haig. My cousin’s in town. How about another deal?” He listened a moment. “I’ll give you ten, then,” he said. “Yes. Ten. I’ll leave it in an envelope with the Company Clerk. No. It’s worth it. Thanks. Take it easy.” He turned to Rock. “Did you call her?”
“She wasn’t home,” Rock said.
“Who’d you talk to?”
“Her mother.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she’s unhappy.”
“What’s her mother unhappy about?” Haig said.
“Her mother’s not unhappy,” Rock said. “The mother said the daughter’s unhappy because I told the daughter I wouldn’t call or see her again.”
“What did you tell her that for?” Haig said.
“I left New York for San Francisco,” Rock said. “I’m going into the Army, and I wanted her to pick up where she left off when I diverted her attention. Has Catanzaro been around at all?”
“Who’s Catanzaro?”
“Sam Catanzaro,” Rock said. “Another grape shipper. He was from Pittsburgh. He used to divert more cars than anybody else in the grape shipping business. I used to take his diversions to the railroads for him. That was before I started driving for Murphy. What ever happened to Sam Catanzaro?”
“What happened to your girl?” Haig said.
“What are we talking about, anyway?” Rock said. “She’s not my girl. She’s Junk’s girl. She’s anybody’s girl. Anybody famous, or anybody rich, or anybody who seems to be somebody. She’s out somewhere in New York spreading it around.”
“Who’s Junk?” Haig said.
“Some New York punk,” Rock said.
“What about him?”
“She’s more his girl than she is mine.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s got more money.”
“How much have you got?” Haig said.
“Listen to this,” Rock said. “I’m flat. I haven’t got anything but my car and some old clothes.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I owe at least thirty thousand dollars besides.”
“What did you do with all the money?” Haig said.
“Blew it,” Rock said. “That’s what comes of not getting married and having kids. It’s gone.”
“I’ve got two hundred bucks stashed away that you can have,” Haig said.
“What are you talking about?” Rock said.
“You’re going to need money i
n the Army,” Haig said.
“I never gave you anything,” Rock said. “Why should you give me two hundred? Are you crazy?”
“You can’t go into the Army broke,” Haig said. “It’s bad enough when you’re not broke. Have you got any money at all, for the game tonight, for instance, if we decide to get into it?”
“Forty bucks or so,” Rock said.
“I’ve got about that much with me, too,” Haig said. “If we go broke, we’ll ride out to the house in Malaga and I’ll get the money for you.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No. You’ve got to have money. Has your mother got any?”
“Do you think I’d let my mother give me money? I’m going into the Army the way everybody else goes into it.”
“What did you do with all the money, Rock?”
“I blew it, I said.”
“Did you buy expensive presents for girls, or what?”
“I never bought a present for a girl in my life. I don’t believe in it. What would I buy a girl a present for?”
“Well, what did you do with the money? Everybody in this house thinks you’re the richest Vagramian in the world.”
“I’m broke,” Rock said. “I wish I had fifty thousand sitting somewhere, though.”
“Did you gamble?” Haig said.
“Sure I gambled,” Rock said. “I gambled all around. I always gambled. I just wasn’t paying any attention at the time.”
“How are you going to get married?”
“What’s money got to do with it?”
“A marriage has got to have money to keep going on,” Haig said. “What’s it going to keep going on if there isn’t any money? Love?”
“I’ll get married on my Army pay,” Rock said.
“Listen, Rock,” Haig said. “This girl sounds like somebody to marry, but you can’t do it on Army pay.” He began to laugh suddenly. “You’ve been kidding me, Rock, God damn you,” he said. “You’re not broke.”
“I’m broke” Rock said.
“It doesn’t make any difference,” Haig said. “You can borrow all you want any time you want to.”
“No, I’m broke and I can’t borrow,” Rock said.
“Well, you could make a deal, then,” Haig said. “You could get the studio to get you a deferment in order to make a patriotic picture, get a lot of money, pay your debts, and get married. You know you could do that.”
“I could.”
“Well, you’d better do it, then, if you haven’t been kidding.”
“I haven’t been kidding,” Rock said, “but I’m not going to be doing it, and the reason is this: I don’t want to. I don’t want to be bothered any more.”
“You’ve really flipped your lid, haven’t you?” Haig said.
“We’re drinking, aren’t we?” Rock said. “We’re home, aren’t we? What do we care about money?”
“You don’t,” Haig said, “because you’ve always had a lot. I care plenty, because I’ve never had a lot, and I can always use a lot. We’re drinking, aren’t we! What’s that got to do with anything? We’ll be sober in the morning, won’t we?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rock said.
“Why not?” Haig said.
“It’s not worth it,” Rock said. “Let’s go sit down and talk about the price of raisins. What kind of an Armenian is that lawyer?”
“Educated.”
“I wasn’t rude to him, was I?”
“Not enough. Where the hell did he come from?”
“He’s a member of the family.”
“What I want to know is what are you going to do about money?” Haig said.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rock said. “The car’s paid for. Maybe I’ll sell it.”
“Sell that car?” Haig said. “The last of its kind? They won’t make cars like that again for years. This is going to be a long war. That car’s priceless.”
“I’ll sell some of my old clothes, then.”
“They don’t pay much for old clothes.”
“I’ll sell something else, then.”
“What else have you got?” Haig said. “Any stocks or bonds or securities or any of that crap?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Jewelry?”
“What would I be doing with jewelry? I never wore a cuff button in my life.”
“Well, what have you got?” Haig said.
“I haven’t got anything,” Rock said. “I’ve got a typewriter I’ve had since I was twenty.”
“How much can you get for it?”
“I wouldn’t sell it, though. I’ll sell some of the overcoats I had made to order.”
“How many did you have made? A dozen?” Haig said.
“I had two made,” Rock said, “but I never wore them. They’re like new.”
“When did you have them made?” Haig said.
“Three or four years ago,” Rock said. “But I wouldn’t sell my overcoats, either. I had them made to order and I’ll keep them. I won’t sell anything. I don’t need any money.”
“Everybody thinks you’re rich,” Haig said.
Lula found them passing the bottle back and forth, standing in the hall. “Come to the table now, and eat,” she said. “Plenty of time to drink after you eat.”
She took the bottle from Rock and took a swig, pushing them before her as she coughed.
Why is a man nonsense all his life? Why is he the impractical joke of unknown enemies or beloved friends? Why is the fellow a fraud? Why does he smile? Why is he forever smiling and looking to be smiled at? Why doesn’t he invent a philosophy? Why isn’t he the Ambassador to Spain? Why doesn’t he compose a symphony so astonishing that midway in it the musicians die of joy? That is a good thing. Why doesn’t he evolve a tree that grows a new kind of peach? That would be an honorable thing. Why is he a fool? Why doesn’t he go to the capitals of the world and say, “One body, one soul, union, fraternity, friendship, accord, trust, and love”? That would be a noble thing, would it not? Why is he a joke? Why doesn’t he apply himself to his religion and be the salvation of mankind? Why doesn’t he go about in his bare feet, his beard full, his eyes shining with love, his mouth and teeth making kind words, his voice as soft as a dove’s, his hand a healing hand? Why doesn’t he go among the sick and mad, and restore them? Why doesn’t he give the old the youth they wasted? That would be better than being a joke, wouldn’t it? Why is he smiling all the time, several of his side teeth gone? Wouldn’t it be better to help out? Wouldn’t it be better to show everybody the foolishness of hatred and cruelty? Wouldn’t it be nice to teach everybody to love everybody? Why isn’t a man big? Wouldn’t it be better to be big? Why doesn’t he make a name for himself? Why doesn’t he make his name stand for something? Why does he permit his name to stand for nothing?
Why doesn’t a man crawl into a cave and scratch the outline of a lion, a bear, or an elephant on the wall? Wouldn’t it be nice to be remembered a thousand years for having scratched on the wall of a cave? Why doesn’t a man open his mouth and sing, making up a song so comforting as to impel beggars to transfer money from one pocket to another, or businessmen from one bank account to another? Wouldn’t that be lyrical? Wouldn’t it be practical and helpful? Why doesn’t a man stop being nonsense and be something his mother can be proud of? Doesn’t he love his mother? Why doesn’t he say something his father can be happy about? Doesn’t he love his father? Why does a man fall in with strangers whose sincerity is dubious? Doesn’t he want to be something, make a name for himself in nuclear research, achieve the honor of a philanthropist, or the fame of an elder statesman? Why does he waste his precious time, annoy the hope everyone has put in him? Doesn’t he know time lost can never be regained? Hasn’t he heard? What’s the matter with the boy? Will he never wake up? Will he never come to his senses? Why doesn’t he get into high finance and help out that way? Why doesn’t he sit down and work out a plan, based on common sense, whereby all people will have steady work in a factory? Why
doesn’t he think about the discrimination at expensive hotels against minorities? Would it hurt him to have strong feelings against intolerance and injustice? Couldn’t he teach manners? Why does he have to be chasing tail all the time?
As luck would have it, Craig J. Adams sat across the table from Rock, so that it was necessary not only to have the lawyer before his eyes, but to talk to him in English, which he did, asking questions but getting no answers.
The children, at their own table, said to one another, “Hear him? That’s Rock. He’s drunk. The one who’s laughing, that’s Haig.”
Everybody knew he was drunk, and ate heartily, as he ate. There were twenty different kinds of things to eat. He ate some of each, one after another. Then he went to his old room, shut the door behind him, stretched out on his bed, and fell asleep.
Haig woke him up to say, “There’s a fellow at the front door to see you.”
“Bring him in,” Rock said.
“Aren’t you going to get up?”
“No. I just stretched out.”
“You’ve been asleep two hours,” Haig said.
“Two hours?” Rock said. “Did she telephone?”
“No.”
“I’ll marry somebody else,” Rock said. “Bring in the man at the door.”
“One of the boys brought me out,” Schwartz said when he saw Rock.
“What are you doing in Fresno?” Rock said.
“P.K. sent me.”
“What for?”
“He had an idea you’d be here,” Schwartz said. “He told me to look for you at Fat Aram’s.”
“What’s he want?”
“He asked you to see him on your way to San Francisco, Rock.”
“What’s he want?” Rock said.
“He wants to see you, Rock.”
“Well, sit down,” Rock said. “This is Haig Vagramian. Haig, this is Sam Schwartz. Sit down, both of you.”
“P.K. wanted me to phone him the minute I found you,” Schwartz said. “Is there a phone here?”
“Sure there’s a phone,” Rock said, “but what do you want to phone him for? Why bother him? He’s probably at Romanoff’s with Vida. Why not let them have a quiet evening together?”
“They’re not at Romanoff’s,” Schwartz said. “They’re at home. I talked to him not more than an hour ago. He said to go back to Fat Aram’s. That’s what I did. At Fat Aram’s they told me to go to room 606 at the Hotel Fresno. A fellow there got up and brought me here in a taxi.”
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