Some Came Running (86 page)

Long before it was even finished that week, it was all over town that they had taken the Albersons’ house, and Wally Dennis came down to help, too, in the afternoons after he got through writing for the day.

“Men, you ought to hear my old mom go on about this here place to her club,” he grinned, paint specks on his face. “I sit up at the top of the stairs and listened. Accordin to the Diana Club ladies, it’s a regular den of iniquity and something ought to be done about it but don’t worry, none of them ladies will. They all get their kicks talkin.” He paused and painted a few strokes. “Christ! When I told her I was helpin, she like to threw a bigger fit than when I first made her let me keep beer in the icebox.”

The house was in fact only about three blocks from Wally’s. It stood on the south side of Lincoln among other ordinary houses, but directly across the street were the better-than-ordinary houses whose backyards abutted against the big backyards of the big houses on West Wernz, and the north side of Lincoln was not to be sneered at.

“It’s a damn good thing Parkman’s too backward to ever made any zoning laws,” Wally chuckled, “or you guys would be unzoned.” He was, quite clearly, jealous as hell of both of them. He would, he said, come live with them himself if he didn’t have to take care of his mom, whether he was invited or not. Wally had garnered a good bit of publicity himself, when both papers printed that he had been awarded the thousand-dollar fellowship; but when he peered in through the door at Dave’s writing room, he could not hide his envy.

When it was all done and all the furniture moved in, they gave a housewarming party. Everyone who was anyone in the lower echelons of Parkman was invited. Judge Deacon came. The pick of the brassiere factory’s bunch were invited, and a number of the more habitual denizens of Smitty’s like Gus Nernst and his girlfriend Lorelei Shaw from Terre Haute; and Raymond Cole was there, on his best behavior with his hair combed and actually dressed up in a suit. Dewey brought his girl, Lois, and Hubie brought his girl, Martha Garvey. Mildred Pierce and Rosalie Sansome the statuesque were both there with a couple of the boys from Smitty’s, and Ginnie Moorhead—who, of course, had no date—though she wound up with two, at different times of the evening, just long enough to make quick trips upstairs to the bedrooms. There were even several younger members (war veterans all) of the Elks (and Country Club), who nevertheless liked to hang out at Smitty’s after work with the boys, and who had prevailed upon their wives to come. Smitty himself was there, without his wife, of course, but with several cases of cold beer. There had been much discussion at the house, while the work was still going on, about not forgetting to invite Smitty who, while he did not hang around with the gang much outside of working hours, was nevertheless still goodhearted and would be sure to come and bring a lot of beer, and would certainly be hurt if he were not invited. One-armed Eddie the bartender was there with his young wife and a fistful of openers, which he used diligently.

Earlier in the afternoon when just the four of them—’Bama and Dave, and Dewey and Hubie—were there getting ready for the party, Hubie had come in the front room with a beer and stretched himself out full length on the ultramodern divan. ’Bama had immediately gone over and slapped his feet down off it. “When yore around here, keep yore crappy feet off the furniture,” he had said in a chilling voice. “Or I’ll personally throw yore ass out.” There had been no question that he meant it.

Now, with the several roomfuls of guests chattering and holding glasses or beer cans and standing around ’Bama slipped off his loafers and got up on a chair in the living room and made a speech.

“Before the party gets goin, Ah want to say that y’all of you are welcome and I hope y’all have a good time. But the first one I see to set drinks down on the furniture or lay lit cigarettes on anything, out he goes! There’s plenty of Budweiser and Schlitz coasters stacked around, thanks to Smitty, and there’s plenty of ashtrays. Use ’em. Because if you don’t, I’ll shore as hell throw yore ass out.”

There were several cries of “Hear, hear!”

“It ain’t a joke,” ’Bama said, holding up both arms for quiet. “Dewey and Hubie are appointed as bouncers. And if they can’t handle somebody easy enough, I guess we can always call on Smitty and Eddie. With their experience, there oughtn’t to be any question.” This last got a good laugh and turned everyone’s feeling into good nature, and he climbed down and slipped his loafers back on and picked up his drink.

It was remarkable what a well-mannered party it was. There was a buffet lunch that disappeared at an astounding rate, along with the beer and the whiskey. But everyone was careful. Nobody got thrown out. Even Raymond Cole was exemplary. And Smitty was heard to remark that the next time he had a bunch of Elks and Country Club people to his house, he thought he would make the same damned kind of speech. The house was oohed and ahed over by the guests, but the thing that created the most interest was Dave’s little writing room under the stairs.

“I don’t see how anybody can jist sit there and write up things right out of their head,” Hubie said proudly as he showed it to a group of them. “I cain’t do it.” There was a chorus of agreement from the group of guests and everybody had another drink.

Earlier in the day, before the party, Wally Dennis who had come by to help had got Dave and ’Bama off privately and explained to them that he would like to bring Dave’s niece Dawn to the party. However, he was willing to forego this if they thought he should. On account of Frank and all.

“But I’ll tell you one thing, men,” Wally said. “You don’t have to worry about little old Dawn. She’s as close-mouthed as hell when she wants to be.”

“It’s up to Dave,” ’Bama said. “I don’t hardly know her. She’s a pretty little thing.”

“She’s a very sweet fine girl,” Wally said, looking uneasy, and staring at Dave.

“Sure, bring her along,” Dave had said. “What the hell.” And later, at the party, he had seen them come in, when he was too busy to even say hello. But the change in both was, even from that glimpse, immediately apparent. Again, he thought Well what the hell. It wasn’t any of his business. They’d have to work out their own damned sex life. Still later, when everything had quieted down, Wally had brought her, breasty and muscular-hipped, over to him.

“Hello, honey,” he said. “Havin a good time at our party?”

“Love it,” Dawn said, brilliant-eyed. She had a highball glass in her hand. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Where have all these people been all my life?”

“Most of them don’t exactly move in your circle,” Dave said. “Come on, I’ll show you my writin room.”

“I’d certainly one hell of a lot rather move in their circle than in mine,” Dawn said. “God! I’ve just been listening to Hubie tell how the Japanese officers carried their own faggots with them, and all the pornography he used to take off of them and sell to the Air Force.”

“You can get my tail even further in a sling with your old man than it is already,” Dave said. “If you’re not careful.”

Dawn grinned. “Don’t worry. Daddy doesn’t know anything Mother and I don’t want him to know.”

“Your mother would be just as bad,” Dave said. “If she ever found out you were here.”

“
Mother
never knows anything
I
don’t want her to know,” Dawn said, grinning wider. “Don’t worry, Dave.”

“Call me ‘Uncle,’” Dave said.

“Excuse me! Uncle,” Dawn said, making a little bow. “You shall be known as Uncle henceforth! Hear that, Wally?”

“Right,” Wally said. “Hello, Uncle.”

“That’s my boy,” Dawn said. “God! you’ve sure put on an awful lot of weight, Uncle.”

“Uncle’s been living well,” Dave said. “Here we are.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful!” Dawn said, peering in through the door. “You ought to do really good work here. And you’d better, too. You know, you’re going to have an awful lot of competition, Uncle, from our boy here when I get him to New York.”

“Oh, are you two going to New York now?” Dave said.

“She is,” Wally said, looking uneasy. “And I think it’s a good idea for her. And I suppose I’ll wind up there, too, eventually.”

“Oh. You mean you’re not going together then?” Dave said.

“Oh no!” Wally said. “She’s going right after school’s out. I don’t know when I’ll get there.”

“I’ve got to get out of this damned town,” Dawn said. “And so does Wally. An artist can’t live and work in a crappy place like this. I don’t mean you. You’re not hemmed in and hampered by your parents like we are. You’re free,” she said.

“I hope so, Niece,” Dave said. “But sometimes Uncle doubts it.”

“God! You know who you sound like now, don’t you?” Dawn grinned, playing shamey-finger with the hand that held her glass. “That’s enough for me!” she said, and turned and started working her way back through the hall.

“You know, Gwen is wondering why you haven’t been over to see her, I think, Dave,” Wally said as he turned to follow Dawn.

“I’m going over,” Dave said. “As soon as we get settled in here.”

“You ought to,” Wally called back, and Dave watched him go—following Dawn—wondering at the changes that came in people—or at least what they liked to believe were changes.

W
ALLACE
F
RENCH
D
ENNIS,
Holder of the Parkman College Fellowship for the Novel, was not unaware that there were changes. Furthermore, he was not totally foreign to the concept that what appeared to be changes might not be changes at all. In fact, he had been thinking about this a good bit lately. But so far he had not been able to isolate just what the hell these changes—or un-changes—actually were, either in himself or Dawnie. Or anybody else.

The whole situation was very interesting to study, more so than he had expected. Or would be, rather, if it didn’t half scare the living hell out of him. He could never be quite sure what Dawnie would do. And he kept getting this feeling that something, if not actually
about
to happen, was nevertheless
liable
to happen. He had vague half-pictures—totally irrational, he chided himself—of Frank Hirsh charging him with an old-fashioned bullwhip. And he was glad now he had bought that secondhand Colt’s Woodsman .22 off of Ed De Lancie two years ago during his sportsman phase, and taught himself to shoot it to prepare himself for the Army. He was also glad he had bought those four Randall knives out of his fellowship money, especially the #1 All-Purpose Fighting Knife. It was amazing the sense of personal comfort they gave him.

Of course, it was all ridiculous, he told himself. Frank Hirsh was no more prone to physical violence than most men of his type. But, by God, he’d kill him if he had to. If it was self-defense they couldn’t keep him in jail too long. Though, of course, they’d take his fellowship away from him. The trouble was, as Hemingway had so aptly written somewhere, a writer just had too damned much imagination.

And yet in spite of this, it was still a very interesting thing to observe, and full of potential material. For instance, just about everybody seemed to know about it. The only people who knew them both who didn’t know were Dawn’s own parents, and his mom. How had they all known?

In analyzing it, Wally decided that it was due to himself and Dawn. In a subtle way, they were letting everybody know. Not that they were giving themselves away. But at the same time, while they were both being careful to keep it a secret, half of both of them
wanted
people to know it.

Now there was a
very
interesting development! While they were both doing everything in their power to conceal from people that there was anything more than usual between them, they were letting the same people know in a
subtle
way that, in fact, there was really a great deal more between them than they admitted.

When he himself talked to Dave and ’Bama about what a sweet, fine girl Dawnie was, he was actually letting them know that he was sleeping with her, and knew they would read it that way! and moreover,
wanted
them to! The same thing held true of Dawnie when she talked to Dave about taking him, Wally, off to New York with her.

And yet, at the same time, they both believed they were trying to hide it!

Wally had already figured out a way he could use this startling development in his book, and he understood that the really startling thing about it was the fact that both of them were sincerely anxious to keep their sexual conjugality a secret. That was what he would have to show, or it wouldn’t come off.

He had not talked about it with Gwen yet, but he was sure now that—especially with all her experience in love—that she would agree with him completely. The truth was, no writer had ever really written accurately about love before!—at least, not with the viewpoint he saw it from. Even Stendhal had not been
really
accurate. The simple truth was, love was a hoax, a mass hallucination! It had no more to do with material, objective reality than—than a novel by Faith Baldwin did. And conversely, you might almost say that people believed in love and fell in it (by God, there was a good phrase! he thought), for the same reason they bought and read Faith Baldwin and made her a perennial best seller. The eternal game of escape. He would have liked nothing better than to have talked to Dawnie and got her to go upstairs with him to one of the bedrooms. But he knew she’d never consent to it. And she’d probably be insulted. And yet, at the same time, she’d sit there and put out her hand to touch him and let everybody know that he was her lover. Very strange. Of course, he didn’t give a damn if everybody knew he was her lover. In fact, he was proud of it.

Hell, he’d been trying to work it around to that for six months, hadn’t he? Six months, hell; for a year! Of course, she had promised him she’d sleep with him in May, that night back in November, but he’d never really believed that. The truth was, Wally had been pretty sure for some time that his getting of the fellowship had had a lot to do with his making it with her. It had impressed her. In spite of what she thought about Parkman and Parkman College. The fellowship was what had done it.