The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [5]
She furiously pounded on the door.
Studs was winded. He stopped trying to beat the smoke aid. The smoke was still thick.
“All right, don’t get... a .. don’t get so excited!”
He whewed, and wiped his forehead, as if there had been perspiration on it. That was a narrow escape. He’d almost told his sister not to get one on, and then there’d have been sixteen kinds of hell to pay around the house.
Whew!
You’d a thought he wanted to stay in there, the way she was acting. Well, he was going to walk out and let ‘em see the smoke, and when they blew their gobs off, he would tell them from now on he was his own boss, and he would smoke where and when he damn well pleased; and furthermore, he wasn’t going to high school.
“William, will you please... please... please let me in... Mother, won’t you please... please... OH, PLEASE, come here and make him get out. He’s been in there a half-hour. He’s reading. He’s always mean and selfish like that... Mother, please... PLEASE!”
She banged on the door.
“Aw, I heard you,” Studs said.
“Well, if you did, come on out!” she snapped.
He heard his mother coming up to the door, while Frances banged and shouted away. He took a towel... why didn’t he think of it sooner?... and started flapping it around.
His mother said:
“William, won’t you hurry now, like a good son? Frances has to go in there, and she has to finish dressing and be up there early because she’s going to be in the play. Now, son, hurry!”
“All right. I can’t help it. I’ll be right out.”
“Well, please do!” Frances said.
The mother commenced to tell Frances that William was going to let her right in; but Frances interrupted:
“But, Mother, he’s been in there almost an hour... He has no consideration for other people’s rights... He’s selfish and mean... and oh, Mother, I got to go in there... and what will I do if I spoil my graduation dress on his account... make him, Mother... and now I’m getting unnerved, and I’ll never be able to act in the play!”
The old lady persuaded. And she told Studs that she and his father couldn’t go until they had all the children off, and they would be disgraced if they came late for the entertainment on the night their son and daughter graduated.
Frances banged on the door and yelled.
“Aw, don’t get so darn crabby,” Studs said to her while he fanned the air with his towel.
‘See, Mother! See! He says I’m insane just because I ask him to hurry after he’s been in there all day. He’s reading smoking cigarettes... Please, make him hurry!”
“Why, Frances, how dare you accuse him like that!” Mrs. Lonigan commenced to say.
Studs heard his sister dashing away, hollering to the old man to come and do something. He fanned vigorously, and his mother stood at the door urging.
II
Old man Lonigan, his feet planted on the back porch railing, sat tilted back in his chair enjoying his stogy. His red, well fed looking face was wrapped in a dreamy expression; and his innards made slight noises as they diligently furthered the process of digesting a juicy beefsteak. He puffed away, exuding burgher comfort, while from inside the kitchen came the rattle of dishes being washed. Now- and then he heard Frances preparing for the evening.
He gazed, with reverie-lost eyes, over the gravel spread of Carter Playground, which was a few doors south of his own building. A six-o’clock sun was imperceptibly burning down over the scene. On the walk, in the shadow of and circling the low, rambling public school building, some noisy little girls, the size and age of his own Loretta, were playing hop-scotch. Lonigan puffed at his cigar, ran his thick paw through his brown gray hair, and watched the kids. He laughed when he heard one-of the little girls shout that the others could go to-hell. It was funny and they were tough little ones all right. It sounded damn funny. They must be poor little girls with fates and mothers who didn