That was one part of the last three years that did not seem unreal or cloudy or indistinct. In fact it was quite the contrary: that mental picture was vivid, sharp, distinct. And always it seemed with her as if it was some unearthly spirit that she was possessed by, damned by; evil and satanic, a dark infernal form that would not go away.
Now she was sitting in the living room drinking coffee with brandy and listening to the radio. The night before after a party that afternoon with a regular patron from Texas over at the Stevens Hotel, she had gone to an all-night hairdresser and had her hair done and her nails manicured and a body massage, then returned before midnight and to take a sleeping pill and go to bed, after informing her answering service that she wasn’t taking any calls.
She had awakened early (for her) and had gone immediately to her bank, as the banks closed at noon on Saturday. She did not have a checking account, but a small savings account, and a safety deposit box where she placed the majority of the cash she had with her (a little over twelve hundred), which brought the total in the box to a little over twelve thousand. Then she returned to her apartment and checked with the answering service. Among the messages there were only two from Nick; however, the girl at the service (Nora had made it a point to occasionally drop by the service with a gift for the girls and to chat a while) said that a voice similar to Nick’s had called several times but left no message. At this Nora had smiled. It had been fun with Nick. And it had been a long time since she had gone to bed with anyone as young as he. As young and as wild as he. The wanting of him, it seemed suddenly to her, to expose and lay bare everything that two people possibly could together. And without any sense of perversion, she thought. At least, in older men it seemed to take on an unclean, perverted kind of form that Nick seemed completely void and unaware of. Maybe that’s what she had enjoyed about it. It? I mean him. Him or it? she laughed to herself. It or him?
There were several other messages, one from another member of the profession whom Nora had last seen in Miami, and who had apparently just arrived in town for the summer season up north. Her name was Cindy Polin, a tall, lean, bleached blonde, White Russian girl who had two bastard sons in military school down in Georgia. Nora returned her call, and Cindy said she would be by in a while.
There were three other messages from other clients, which Nora wrote down carefully on her note pad on the table stand, then got up and poured another coffee and brandy. She sat there on the couch in the dark room with the drapes drawn and the table lamps giving dim light, her eyes staring off transfixed as if into empty space, feeling the brandy warmly to her empty stomach, seeing again the horrified eyes of her husband looking down upon her as the heart attack had struck, believing the pain that struck him to be that moment of ultimate passion, the noise of the dying gasp to be a momentary cry of ecstatic joy, then the strange rattling, the death rattle from his throat, the rattling sound that now would not go away, still not knowing he was dead upon her, trying to push the dead weight of this elderly man from her as if he were still alive, this man who had been so kind and gentle with her, finally rolling him over and hearing once more, finally, the deep death rattle. Oh God, what had she ever done to have caused this—he was not dead. Dead. Hysterically then trying to shake him alive.
She had fainted, and when she came to on the bed she did not move for a long while, trying to make herself believe it was all part of an unholy nightmare. But he was dead. White, naked, hairy, old. Terribly old. He could not possibly be that old. That old. Dead.
She covered his white naked body with a sheet to his waist. The body twitched once convulsively, as if alive, and she began to scream hysterically and outside she could hear the thunder and she screamed at the thunder to go away, at the purple to go away. And beat her hands upon the wall. Scratched at the walls until her nails had bled and the wallpaper was ripped from the claw marks. The thunder would not go away. The rain slashed upon the windows as if the elements themselves were angered with her for what she had done.
Now she sat, her hands pressed tightly to her cheeks, head bowed. Eyes compressed forcedly. Closed tight. Sat there with her hands pressing against her cheekbones until all seemed black. Then quickly she drank the rest of the coffee-brandy. Went into the kitchen and drank another brandy straight, feeling the cold panic sweat of the remembering. The cold panic sweat under her arms and on her forehead. Frenziedly, it seemed, she began to straighten out the kitchen cupboards. Scoured and scrubbed the stove (after putting on her rubber gloves). Vacuumed the living-room. Straightened her closets. Removed all her toilet articles from the medicine cabinet and carefully replaced them. Took a hot shower, soaping herself over and over, as if trying to cleanse her already clean body of some invisible, imperceptible foulness. Standing there in the hot shower until she was all flaccid and limp and inert. Then suddenly turning on the cold in order to revive herself. Dried. Cologned. Put on a plain pink form-fitting silk negligee that revealed no flesh but every line, pausing for a moment in front of the full length closet mirror to study herself for a moment after she had powdered and lipsticked lightly. Then went into the living-room and called the three “patrons” who had left messages and told them she was “busy”. Then got up and put the messages into the kitchen incinerator, after making notations in her own code in her notebook. Then placed the notebook back in the end table drawer, then checked her datebook, swearing slightly when she noted she had a payoff due the vice squad on Monday and had forgotten, when she had made her deposit, to keep enough for the payoff. Well, she could probably get it from Cindy, or Hy over at the Four Winds would certainly give it to her, or maybe she’d even let the lieutenant take it out in trade this week. But God, he was a mean sonofabitch in bed. And so easy to taunt, and how she loved to taunt him. The only trouble was, the more you taunted him, the meaner he was in the bed. Certainly, Nora thought, if that bastard didn’t have that badge to hide behind, to hide that fanatical drive to dominate and master behind, he would certainly be up there where he so enjoyed sending everyone else. It was a wonder he could even enjoy the bed at all, considering the seemingly consummate pleasure he derived from his own work. Well, maybe he didn’t enjoy it really. Maybe he just did it to make himself feel manly, normal. Maybe he just did it for that. I’ll bet his wife lives a wonderful life, she said to herself.
Cindy arrived, greeting Nora with an embrace and a kiss on the cheek. She was tall, over five-nine, and though slightly big-boned, appeared lean, and had cropped blonde hair, ringlets of soft well-kept hair; immaculate and very feminine in black. The perfect picture, Nora thought, of what a successful Broadway actress should look like. And act like. Cindy was always outwardly very gay. Had made today, as always, her usual gay, stimulating and talkative entrance. It was really almost impossible to believe that Cindy was approaching forty-two.
Nora sat back down on the couch as Cindy wandered about the living-room, talking a gay stream of this and that—Miami and a trip she had taken to Cuba—moving about the living-room with a long, striding familiarity, examining occasionally a knickknack, straightening a curtain, as if perhaps it were her own apartment she had returned to, all the while rambling with that easy familiarity, talking to you, it seemed, and at the same time talking to herself. So easily did she move that she did not give the appearance, with all her straightening out and examining, of any nervousness. Rather, actually, of satisfying a simple curiosity which she had a perfect right to satisfy, and when it was satisfied, then she would settle down to normal activity, which after a few moments, she did.
“Coffee, darling,” she said to Nora.
“It’s made,” Nora said. “Drink?”
“I think not,” Cindy said. “Maybe later. I’ll heat up the coffee.” She went into the kitchen and came right back out and sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Nora.
“I spent all last week with the children down in Georgia,” Cindy said. “Bill’s grown so. He’s almost six feet tall.”
“Six feet,” Nora said.
“That’s hard to believe. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen the boys,” Nora said. “You’ve been awfully good to them, Cindy.”
“They’re good boys,” Cindy said. “They get out tomorrow. I’m meeting them at the airport and they take an evening train for camp. Won’t you have dinner with us?”
“I don’t think that would be right,” Nora said. “You have so little time with them alone as it is.”
“I know they’d love to see you. Bill was a counselor last year. And Bob’s going to be one this year. It will be quite a saving.”
“I would like to see them,” Nora said. “Have they decided what they want to be yet? I mean, any marked ambitions.”
“They don’t know. And I don’t know what to advise. This war business, Nora. It’s damn confusing to these kids. They don’t know how long it will last. Or the draft will last. They really can’t plan anything. In a way I regret having sent them to military school. I really think Bill would like to be a doctor. But I don’t think he’d avoid the army to start his studies. I mean, the military seems so ingrained in him that I think he’d feel guilty if he got a deferment to study medicine—I’ll get the coffee.”
“Sit down,” Nora said. “I’ll get it.”
They went out and got it together, then returned to the living-room.
“I really don’t know what to advise them. They aren’t spoiled anyhow, thank God. And I do think they both want to make something of themselves. Something better than average. I think I’d just as soon see them in the army as living this average American life.”
“They do know what you are, don’t they?” Nora asked.
“I’m sure they do. They must. Kids are a lot smarter than people give them credit for being. Well, maybe not so smart. But they sense things. And between what they see and what they sense they seem to know a lot more than we do at times. I don’t think we rely on our senses as much as we should—you know, I really don’t think it bothers the boys too much, knowing about me.”
“If you had a girl it would, I think.”
“I’m sure,” Cindy said. “God, what would I ever have done with a girl—I hear the town’s hopping.”
“I don’t know where the money’s coming from,” Nora said. “But there’s plenty around. So much I think I’m getting lazy. I must have turned down ten dates in the last two weeks—Miami?”
“I had a good year. I got my New York man back. You remember Strauss.”
“I’d like to find one like that,” Nora said.
Cindy held out her arm, and the diamond bracelet sparkled up at Nora.
“That will take care of the kids’ college, anyhow,” Cindy said, “if anything happens to me.”
“Gloomy today, aren’t you,” Nora said.
“Those goddamn hoods,” Cindy, said. “They think they’re doing you a favor. They really do.”
“Who was it this time?”
“One of the big Dagos—Carmi. How he knew I got into town day before yesterday, I’ll never know. They must have the force in their hip pocket.”
“Did you have to?”
“If I want to operate, I have to. All afternoon listening to him blow off his mouth about his joints and the bets he wins. Then four hours in the kip, and he gives me a twenty and says, ‘Buy a bottle of perfume, honey’. They’re worse than the cops.”
“Almost,” Nora said meditatively. “They’re as cold, anyhow. Did you take the twenty?”
“Of course not,” Cindy half laughed a sardonic little laugh. “But I probably should have. The way his mind works, he probably thinks I’ve fallen for him for not taking it.”
Nora laughed.
“I wish you’d come have dinner with the children and me tomorrow,” Cindy said.
“I really don’t think I can.”
“Busy?”
“Cocktail party in Glencoe,” Nora said.
“You’re kidding,” Cindy said.
“A young army officer. Nick Stratton.”
“Not Old Pete’s kid.”
“Old Pete’s kid,” Nora said. “He doesn’t know. It’s just kicks. But he’s no kid.”
“You can’t seem to get society out of your system, can you?”
Nora laughed. “You still think anything that happens north of Howard Street is society, don’t you?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been north of Howard Street, except on the way to Milwaukee.”
“Where did you get the suit?” Nora asked.
“Magnin’s. Last year,” Cindy said. “You look wonderful, babe.”
“I’ve been getting massaged regularly. I think that helps,” Nora said. “Do you need any numbers?”
“I don t think so—I’ll let you know. I don’t think I’ll do anything for a few days. I think I’ll have a drink.”
“I’ll join you,” Nora said.
They went out into the kitchen and Nora took out the ice and filled the container, then took the container out into the living-room and put it on the portable bar. Cindy poured the scotch and Nora the soda, and just before Nora picked up her glass, Cindy put her arm around her and kissed her softly on the lips, and stroked her hair gently, and held her close for a moment.
“Let’s have our drink,” Nora said. “Maybe we’ll go to the races this afternoon. Would you like that?”
“That’s right,” Cindy said. “They’re on, aren’t they. That might be fun.”
The doorbell rang.
“I wonder who that could be,” Nora said. “Oh, it’s Louise. She was going to stop by for her money.”
Louise was an old colored maid who had worked the houses in the old days, as far back as anyone could remember, and now did housework and special laundry for several of the higher class call girls in town.
“Let me get it,” Cindy said. “I haven’t seen the old girl in a year.”
Cindy went to the door and opened it. “Missus Cindy,” Louise practically screamed, opening the door. Cindy embraced her and walked her in. “You looks wonderful, Missus Cindy. You don’t get one day older in the last ten years. How’s my boys?”
Cindy told Louise that she had just come from seeing them, and how they were and that they would be in town tomorrow. Louise offered to come over to Cindy’s apartment to cook them a fried chicken dinner, like she used to, and Cindy thought that would be fine, and they set a time.
“I tell you, Missus Nora, those are some boys. That old one, that Billie, he was always asking me all kinds of questions about everything.”
“Including where babies came from,” Cindy said. “And you know what Louise told him,” she laughed. “From tree stumps. It wasn’t until his first year at camp, on a camping trip, that Bill found out they didn’t come from them.”
“Well, that’s what my mommy use to tell me when I was little. Lordy, we was all scared to death to go near any tree stump,” Louise said. She was gray-haired and large but not too fat, and very old now.
“He’s something, that baby was,” Louise said. “My niece nursed that baby, she did.” Then she laughed. “You remember when your friend, Missus Lil, was carryin’. God rest her soul. Taking to dope, poor thing. Remember, Missus Cindy. She was staying with you towards the end. I think Billie was five or six then. And he asked Missus Lil how she was gonna get that teeny-weeny out of there. And Missus Lil says the doctor gonna take it out. And that Billie, he says—” she began to laugh, and laugh, and shake all over—” and that Billie says you got a doctor in there, too.” She laughed and shook all over. “Tha’s some boy. I practically raised that boy when he was little, didn’t I, Missus Cindy.”
“You were wonderful,” Cindy said. “I know how glad they’ll be to see you.”
“Would you like a little drink?” Nora asked.
“Well, as long as I ain’t workin’ I guess it’s all right. Good for the bones. Ever since the menopause, it’s good for the bones.”
Cindy looked over at Nora and winked. Ever since they could remember, Louise had been suffering fro
m the menopause, or the after-effects of it, and had taken all kinds of bottled cure-all medicine religiously.
“Just straight will be fine. Ah’s in a little bit of a hurry. Got to go to a wake tonight.”
Cindy smiled. For years now, every time Louise was in a hurry, or needed an excuse to take an extra day off, or didn’t show up (which was rare), it was because she had to go to either a funeral or a wake.
She took the drink and drank it right down, after wishing Cindy and Nora good luck. And Nora paid her, and she told Cindy not to worry about anything, she would get the chickens herself and all the extras and have dinner for the boys right on time, so they would have a chance for at least a little visit before they left to catch their train for camp.
Nora and Cindy laughed warmly after she left, and talked about her, and how she knew everything that ever went on in the rackets. Even today, Nora told Cindy, she seemed to know everything that was going on.
“If she ever told what she knew,” Nora said, “I bet they’d need three extra jails in town. By the way, do you need any furs? I’ve got a hell of a connection on furs now.”
“I’ve had those before,” Cindy said warily.
“You’re protected,” Nora said. “You even get an insurance policy. I checked it out with my lawyer. He says I can’t be touched.”
“I’d like to take a look,” Cindy said. “This is a good time to buy.”
“I’m having a mink made up,” Nora said. “Wait until you see it. We’ll go down next week. I’ve a fitting anyhow.”
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