Brass Bed Page 6

  Harvey stopped in front of him and said in a nasty voice, “Have some coffee, Pete.”

  I could tell that he was sore at Pete for helping himself, and it was certain that Pete could tell it too, but he didn’t give a damn. He was absolutely impervious to insult. He opened his mouth and made a gusty sort of sound that was the closest he ever came to the sound of laughter.

  “I got some,” he said.

  “Well, so you have,” Harvey said. “I guess you knew you’d be perfectly welcome to it, so you just went ahead and helped yourself.”

  “That’s what I did. I helped myself.”

  “Sure. God helps him who helps himself. You and God must get along pretty good, Pete.”

  “We get along all right.”

  “That’s fine. That’s just mighty damn wonderful. How do you and God like the coffee?”

  “We think it’s too weak. We like our coffee stronger.”

  Harvey turned to me and lifted his arms and let them fall and slap against his sides.

  “Did you hear that? Pete and God don’t like the coffee. Isn’t that a crying shame?”

  “I think I’ll go clean the bullheads,” I said.

  “All right, old boy. You clean the bullheads, and I’ll get everything ready here. It’s too bad we only have enough for two. If we had enough for three, for instance, we could invite Pete to stay for chow, but I guess it doesn’t really matter, after all, because he probably wouldn’t like our bullheads, anyhow. He doesn’t like our coffee, and I consider it very probable that he wouldn’t like our bullheads, either. Pete, of course, is a man with very particular tastes. He’s a regular God-damn gourmet, as a matter of fact.”

  I got some pliers and a hammer and a large nail and took them with the bullheads down to the river bank. After setting the flashlight to shine on a cotton wood tree, I took the bigger of the two bullheads and nailed him to the trunk of the tree, driving the nail through his flat head. With my pocket knife, I cut through the skin all the way around the base of his head and on a perpendicular line down his back. Using the pliers, I peeled the skin off and then took the bullhead down and gutted him and afterward did the same things with the smaller one. When I was finished, I carried the pair of them down across the bar and washed them in the river. The sounds of the river were a kind of music, and it was nice there on the bar in the darkness.

  6

  I WAS thinking about her, about Jolly.

  Harvey had the skillet and the cornmeal ready and was waiting for the fish. He took them from me and rolled them in the cornmeal and put them in the skillet, and they began to sizzle immediately and shortly began to smell about as good as anything can smell.

  “They’re fine fat fish,” Harvey said. “Very good bullheads.”

  “Where’s Pete?” I said.

  “He got sore and left.”

  “No wonder. You were a little rough on him, Harvey.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “Maybe you wanted him to hang around and hog some of the bullheads and tank up on our beer.”

  “Say, that reminds me that the beer ought to be good and cold now. Shall I plug a couple of cans to go with the bullheads?”

  “Maybe you wanted him to stay on and on and simply spoil everything for us.”

  “Not at all, Harvey. I’m glad he’s gone.”

  “Then why did you criticize me for being rough on him?”

  “God-damn it, Harvey, I wasn’t being critical. You sound like your conscience is hurting you or something.”

  “I dare say that’s true. I have a very tender conscience. Having a tender conscience is quite a heavy burden sometimes, old boy.”

  “You are to be commended for having a tender conscience. It’s extremely rare.”

  “Is that your honest opinion? Thanks, old boy. You’re making me feel a great deal better. I knew I could count on you for understanding.”

  “Not at all.”

  “If only the son of a bitch hadn’t said the coffee was too weak.”

  “Well, I’ll plug a couple of beers.”

  “What? Oh, yes, you do that, old boy. It ought to be good and cold now, and it will go wonderfully with the bullheads.”

  I plugged the beers and opened a can of beans and set it at the edge of the fire to warm, and we sat there and drank the beers and listened to the bullheads sizzle and enjoyed ourselves. Pretty soon the fish were brown and crisp, and the beans were warm, and we ate the fish and the beans with bread and had two more cans of beer with them and two after them. After we were finished with the last two beers, we got blankets and spread them on the ground and lay down on them in our clothes, except for shoes, which we removed.

  “Are you sleepy?” Harvey said.

  “Yes, I am,” I said. “I’m pretty sleepy.”

  “I’m quite sleepy myself. It’s the fresh night air that does it. There’s nothing like fresh night air to make you sleepy.”

  “That’s true. The sound of the river and the sound of the air stirring in the trees are helpful also. Don’t you think so?”

  “Very helpful. Lulling. They’re lulling sounds.”

  “Of course it doesn’t hurt anything to have your belly full of bullheads, either.”

  “Now you’re being rather coarse, old boy. I was hoping we could keep it romantic.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m very partial to romance myself.”

  “I know about that. However, I must say that it doesn’t seem to be working out just right for you.”

  “I think probably you’re speaking of something else. I was thinking of romance in the literary sense.”

  “Do you object to speaking of it the other way?”

  “Not generally, but I object to speaking of it specifically.”

  “You mean you don’t want to talk about you and Jolly, old boy?”

  “Well, that’s specific.”

  “Yes, it is. I admit that. I only refer to your romance because I have developed an intense interest in it. It’s a fact that I have your welfare very much at heart,” Harvey said.

  “Thanks. However, you needn’t concern yourself any longer. In the first place, it could hardly be called a romance, and in the second place, whatever it was, it isn’t any longer.”

  “Pardon me for being cynical, old boy, but I rather doubt that.”

  “It’s true, just the same,” I said.

  “I hope not. I sincerely do. I always found you and Jolly a charming pair. I was all for you.”

  “I appreciate your support, but there were things against us. Principally, we were illegal.”

  “There’s no denying that, and I consider it regrettable. Did you find it a great handicap?”

  “I found it a very great handicap indeed, and now I wish to quit speaking of it.”

  “Immediately? I was hoping that you would be willing to tell me how it got started. In thinking about it, it has occurred to me that I’ve never known.”

  I hesitated before I said, “It was pretty ordinary.”

  “Ordinary? With Jolly involved? I consider that incredible, old boy.”

  “Well, I’ll admit that it didn’t stay ordinary very long. The truth is, she got the notion that she was ignorant and needed to know more than she did, so she came out to the college to take some classes, and one of the classes was one I happened to be teaching.”

  “I don’t find that ordinary at all. In fact, I find it exceptionally romantic. I’m very pleased.” He sounded almost smug about it.

  “I’m glad that it pleases you.”

  “Did she stay in the class all term?”

  “No. She only stayed a little while.”

  “That’s too bad. Was it because she didn’t learn anything?”

  “So far as I could judge, she learned practically nothing at all. In her case, I was an utter failure as a teacher.”

  “Perh
aps she found you a distracting influence. It’s pretty hard to concentrate on history when your glands are kicking up a fuss, you know.”

  “Yes, I do know. There is probably no one in the world who knows it any better.”

  “But I wouldn’t feel too bad about your failure, old boy. You may not have been able to teach her anything, but I’m positive something was accomplished the other way round, and it is my opinion based on observation that she has taught you plenty.”

  “I concede that and merely wish to qualify it by saying that I would certainly be better off if I’d never learned it.”

  “It hurts me to see you so bitter.”

  “All right, Harvey. And now I believe I would like to go to sleep.”

  “Immediately?”

  “As quickly as possible,” I said.

  “Shall we run the line at midnight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you wake up, do you think?”

  “I’m certain to wake up. I always wake up at midnight when we are out here. It’s a habit.”

  “That’s good, then. Just give me a shake, will you?”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll be very grateful,” Harvey said.

  “It’s all right, Harvey. I’ll be glad to give you a shake.”

  “Goodnight, then, old boy.”

  “Goodnight.”

  He rolled over on his side with his back to me, and after a while I could hear him breathing deeply and evenly in sleep, and I continued to lie awake on my back, hearing besides his breathing the sounds of the river and the trees and all the other sounds that occurred in the night. Finally I went to sleep, and a long time after that I woke up again, and sure enough, it was then just a few minutes after midnight by my watch. I shook Harvey awake, and we went down to the river and ran the line and took off four fat bullheads and a carp. We put the fish on a stringer and went back and lay down on our blankets again, and Harvey went right off to sleep, but I didn’t. I started thinking about Jolly and told myself that I had better quit, but I didn’t do that, either. The river kept running, and the trees kept stirring, and I kept thinking. The last time I looked at my watch before sleeping, it was three o’clock.

  7

  The next morning we ran the line again and had breakfast, and after breakfast I took a rod down to the gravel bar and started casting for channel cats, but I didn’t have any luck. I enjoyed it down there, though, between the high banks with the water running swiftly through the narrow channel between the bar and the bank opposite, and I stayed on in spite of having no luck, and I was still down there casting when I heard a car come along the narrow dirt road from the highway and stop beside the cabin up on the bank behind me. It was then, I guess, about the middle of the morning.

  I could hear Harvey’s voice sounding surprised and a little excited, and Fran Tyler’s voice saying something shrilly in response to Harvey’s voice, and I brought in my line and cast it upstream again and watched it float down past me with the current, and someone came to the edge of the bank at my back and down the path with a slithering of dirt and a small rattling of dislodged stones. I knew it was Jolly because I could feel her and smell her, and the feeling was quite disturbing to my equanimity, and I understood that whatever developed in the fishing from this time on, the peace and comfort of it were gone.

  “Hello, Felix,” Jolly said.

  “We just said goodbye,” I said.

  “That was yesterday. Eons ago.”

  “It was supposed to be for eons. It was supposed to be forever.”

  “Forever is such a long time. Don’t you find it so?”

  “What do you want, Jolly?”

  “I guess what I want is you. That seems to be the simple truth of it, and it is constantly making me humble myself.”

  “I suggest that you go away.”

  “You haven’t even looked at me yet,” she said. “Why don’t you look at me?”

  “Go away, please.”

  “Can you look at me and tell me to go away? If you can do that, I’ll go.”

  “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  It was the old thing that kids say when they’re trying to convince someone that they’ll keep their word about something. At least they used to say it, and I guess they still do, and I’ve said it myself a thousand times. Once I said it and later broke my word and was in a sweat for days about it, and saying it now brought it all back to mind, the kid stuff, and made her sound somehow small and sad and terribly appealing. After bringing in my line, I turned and looked at her, and she was wearing white shorts and a blue-and-white-striped jersey and a pair of blue sandals with flat heels, and the shorts and the jersey were quite snug.

  We stood and looked at each other, and my resolution was all shot to hell, and pretty soon she said, “I promised, and I will keep my promise. Are you going to tell me to go?”

  “No.”

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

  “I think you were damn sure I wouldn’t.”

  “No. That isn’t true. You sounded very determined.”

  “Why in God’s name did you come out here?”

  “Well, Kirby and I were out on the back terrace at home and were quite bored, which is a terrible thing to be so early in the day, and pretty soon Fran and Sid came along and stopped, and we all got to talking about what we might do that would be interesting for a change, and I just happened to remember about Harvey and you being out here fishing, and I mentioned it, and immediately everyone thought it would be a good thing to drive out and see how you were getting along.”

  “We were getting along very well.”

  “And now it’s ruined. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I’m truly sorry. I never wanted to ruin anything for you. All I want is to make you happy. Is there anything at all I can do to make you happy?”

  “Sure. Let’s go up and join Kirby and be happy all together. We’ll make a nice cozy little triangle, and it will be just like in a God-damn fairy tale or something. We’ll all live happily in a triangle ever after.”

  “You’re bitter, and I wish you wouldn’t be. It makes me miserable when you’re bitter.”

  “I know it’s unreasonable of me.”

  “Kirby has changed. I think his conscience must be bothering him, and he’s decided that he ought to be pals with me. You know what I mean. That we ought to do things together and all like that. He’s being very congenial.”

  “That’s fortunate, isn’t it? Now you need have practically no fear at all of being hit in the eye.”

  She didn’t even wince. “That’s true. Kirby’s quite sorry about hitting me. Quite penitent really. It’s absolutely touching to see how penitent he is.”

  “I’ll bet. Anyhow, now that you and Kirby are being pals, it will no longer be necessary for you to wish he would die.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and Kirby being reconciled and all. Fine pals and everything.”

  “Well, I don’t see what that has to do with it.”

  “You still consider him an impediment?”

  “Certainly. It is obvious that he is a handicap to you and me.”

  “That’s true, but don’t you think it’s a sort of dirty way to feel about a guy when he’s working so hard at being congenial?”

  “I don’t understand why you keep going over that, as if it would be any different one time from another.” She scowled at me.

  “Honestly? You honestly can’t see that it would be any different?”

  “No, I can’t. I absolutely can’t. I must say, Felix, that you have the strangest way of looking at things. You seem to see everything distorted or something.”

  I started to laugh and couldn’t stop. She stood and looked at me with a tiny crease of puzzlement between her eyes and a small smile on her lips, and it crossed my mind that starting to laugh and not being able to stop, especially when you didn’t feel like laughing
at all, was a bad sign of something happening to you. I wasn’t sure just what it was, but it was apparently psychological and had something to do with Jolly and goliards and nothing ever getting anywhere, and after a while I managed to stop the laughter with an effort that was painful and left a kind of constricted feeling in my throat.

  “What’s funny?” Jolly said.

  “Nothing. There is nothing funny at all.”

  “Then why were you laughing?”

  “Merely to exercise my laughing muscles. I laugh so seldom any more that I find it necessary to exercise the muscles periodically.”

  “It sounded to me like maybe you were hysterical,” Jolly said.

  “Really? The idea is fantastic.”

  “Well, I’m glad you weren’t, because I don’t believe I could stand a hysterical man. Not even you. There is something so sickly about it.”

  “There is indeed. Sickly is the word, and I don’t blame you at all for your attitude.”

  Up on the bank by the cabin, Fran squealed happily about something that had been said or done, and Harvey invited everyone in a loud voice to stay for a lunch of good fried bullheads and in the meanwhile to have a beer.

  “If you were to kiss me,” Jolly said, “I wonder if anyone would see us.”

  “That would depend on whether anyone walked over to the edge of the bank and looked down at us,” I said.

  “Well,” she said, “I don’t consider it likely that anyone will do that in the immediate future, do you?”

  “I don’t know. It seems to me to be something that might or might not be done, depending upon circumstances.”

  “I consider it unlikely myself, and in any event I am perfectly willing to take the chance.”

  I had turned down an invitation yesterday, and it was entirely too much to expect that I should be so resolute two days in a row, so I took a step across the bar and put my arms around her and kissed her for a long time without stopping, and we were in close and extensive contact that would have left no question of our enthusiasm in the mind of an observer. I know this is true because it didn’t, the observer being Fran, and I will say for her that she was at least considerate enough not to interrupt, but stood watching us politely until we had finished and stopped of our own accord, and as a matter of fact we didn’t even know that she had come over to the edge of the bluff and seen us until a minute or two later.