Ironweed - William Kennedy [31]
“How you like these new duds of mine, Clara? You didn’t tell me how swell I look, all dressed up.”
“You look sharp,” Clara said.
“You can’t keep up with Francis.”
“Don’t waste your time, Francis,” Helen said.
“You’re getting very hostile, you know that? Listen, you want to sleep with me in the weeds tonight?”
“I never slept in the weeds,” Helen said.
“Never?” asked Clara.
“No, never,” said Helen.
“Oh yes,” Francis said. “She slept in the coaches with me, and the fields.”
“Never. You made that up, Francis.”
“We been through the valley together,” Francis said.
“Maybe you have,” said Helen. “I’ve never gone that far down and I don’t intend to go that far down.”
“It ain’t far to go. She slept in Finny’s car night before last.”
“That’s the last time. If it came to that, I’d get in touch with my people.”
“You really ought to get in touch with them, dearie,” said Clara.
“My people are very high class. My brother is a very well-to-do lawyer but I don’t like to ask him for anything.”
“Sometimes you have to,” Jack said. “You oughta move in with him.”
“Then Francis’d be out. No, I’ve got Francis. We’d get married tomorrow if only he could get a divorce, wouldn’t we, Fran.”
“That’s right, honey.”
“We battle sometimes, but only when he drinks. Then he goes haywire.”
“You oughta get straight, Franny.” Jack said. “You could have twenty bucks in your pocket at all times. They need men like you. You could have everything you want. A new Victrola like that one right there. That’s a honey.”
“I had all that shit,” Francis said.
“It’s late,” Clara said.
“Yeah, people,” said Jack. “Gotta hit the hay.”
“Fix me a sandwich, will ya?” Francis asked. “To take out.”
“No,” Clara said.
Helen rose, screaming, and started for Clara. “You forget when you were hungry.”
“Sit down and shut up,” Francis said.
“I won’t shut up. I remember when she came to my place years ago, begging for food. I know her a long time. I’m honest in what I know.”
“I never begged,” said Clara.
“He only asked for a sandwich,” said Helen.
“I’m gonna give him a sandwich,” Jack said.
“Jack don’t want you to come back again,” Francis said to Helen.
“I don’t want to ever come back again,” Helen said.
“He asked for a sandwich,” Jack said, “I’ll give him a sandwich.”
“I knew you would,” Francis told him.
“Damn right I’ll give you a sandwich.”
“Damn right,” Francis said, “and I knew it.”
“I don’t want to be bothered,” Clara said.
“Sharp cheese. You like sharp cheese?”
“My favorite,” Francis said.
Jack went to the kitchen and came back into a silent room with a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper. Francis took it and put it in his coat. Helen stood in the doorway.
“Good night, pal,” Francis said to Jack.
“Best of luck,” Jack said.
“See you around,” Francis said to Clara.
“Toodle-oo,” said Clara.
o o o
On the street, Francis felt the urge to run. Ten Broeck Street, in the direction they were walking, inclined downward toward Clinton Avenue, and he felt the gravitational fall driving him into a trot that would leave her behind to solve her own needs. The night seemed colder than before, and clearer too, the moon higher in its sterile solitude. North Pearl Street was deserted, no cars, no people at this hour, one-forty-five by the great clock on the First Church. They had walked three blocks without speaking and now they were heading back toward where they had begun, toward the South End, the mission, the weeds.
“Where the hell you gonna sleep now?” Francis asked.
“I can’t be sure, but I wouldn’t stay there if they gave me silk sheets and mink pillows. I remember her when she was whoring and always broke. Now she’s so high and mighty. I had to speak my piece.”
“You didn’t accomplish anything.”
“Did Jack really say that they don’t want me anymore?”
“Right. But they asked me to stay. Clara thinks you’re a temptation to Jack. The way I figure, if I give her some attention she won’t worry about you, but you’re so goddamn boisterous. Here. Have a piece of sandwich.”
“It’d choke me.”
“It won’t choke you. You’ll be glad for it.”
“I’m not a phony.