A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) (28 page)

S
HE
walked past the cosmetic counter and climbed on to a stool.

“Yes, miss?” I asked.

“A short Coke with lime, Danny.” Her eyes, as she smiled at me, were heavy and sultry.

“Comin’ right up.” Without turning round, I reached behind me and took a glass from the shelf. Her smile grew deeper and warmer.

I held the glass under the spigot and pulled the pump. The brown syrup spurted up and I pushed the glass under the seltzer spigot, easing the handle back with the heel of my hand. While the glass filled, I squeezed an eighth of a lime into it, jacked it with a spoon, then cut off the seltzer.

She had an unlit cigarette in her mouth when I put the coke down in front of her. I beat her to the match. Its dancing light flickered in her eyes as I held it for her. “Thanks, Danny.”

“Nothin’,” I said, tapping out a straw for her.

She took the straw daintily from my fingers and stirred it slowly in the glass. “They ought to have places on the subway where you can get a Coke if you’re thirsty on a night like this,” she said before sipping at her drink.

I grinned at her. “I wouldn’ like that a’ tall,” I said, stretching the South in my speech. All soda jerks were supposed to be from the South. “Then I’d never get tuh see yuh.”

She gave me an appreciative smile as I walked up the front of the counter to Jack. It was all part of the game. The kids that sat in front of your counter expected it. Romance at a soda fountain. Real cheap for a nickel coke.

“After one o’clock, Jack,” I said. “Clean up now?”

From the register Jack looked up at the clock. He nodded his head, his eyes going back to the girl. “Yeah, Danny,” he said, grinning. “It must be that blond hair and blue eyes that gets ’em.”

I waved my hand modestly. “Nuts,” I answered. “It’s my clean-cut, red-blooded American look.”

He shook his head. “I don’ know what it is, but four outta five heads that come in here pass me up to set down at your station. An’ the come-ons yuh get! Man, I’d be eatin’ muh heart out all the time.”

I grinned at him. “Don’t be jealous, Jack. I may attract the dames, but you got all the dough.”

“Honest, Danny?” he queried. “Yuh never bother with ’em at all?”

“You know me, Jack. A married man with a kid’s got no time to fool aroun’, an’ besides not havin’ the time I ain’t got the dough.” I checked the broad in the mirror behind the counter. She smiled at me and I smiled back. “On top o’ that, yuh keep away from these chicks. They all hold C.T.U. cards, an’ if yuh make a move they holler.’

He grinned again and looked down at the register. “I don’ believe a word yuh’re saying,” he said in a friendly voice. “But it’s okay to start cleanin’ up now.”

I walked back down the counter and punched out a ticket for the girl. I dropped it on the counter in front of her just as she finished her drink. “Thank you, miss.”

I pocketed the nickel she left for me as she clambered down off the stool, and turned back to the fountain. It was 1.15, but I didn’t need the clock to tell me that. I was tired. My legs were weary and my back ached from the steady seven hours and fifteen minutes I had been on my feet that night since 6 p.m. But what the hell, I told myself as I began to pull the pumps, it was a job, and jobs weren’t easy to get. I ought to know; I’d been looking long enough.

Almost three years, to be exact. Sure, I got some jobs, but they didn’t stick. Something always happened and then I’d be hitting the streets again. It wasn’t so bad while Nellie was working. We could manage then. But when Vickie came along, things were a little different. We ran head-first into something that time and economics stacked up against us.

I remembered the day Nellie came home from work and told me she was going to have a baby. There must have been a funny look on my face because she put out her hand and touched my arm.

“Danny, you don’t look pleased?” she asked, a hurt deep in her dark eyes.

“I’m pleased all right,” I said shortly.

She drew closer to me. “Then what’s the matter?”

“I was wonderin’ what we’re gonna use for dough.”

“You’ll get a job,” she said. “Things can’t keep up like this for ever.”

I turned away and lit a cigarette. “That’s what I keep tellin’ myself,” I said.

She turned me back to her. The hurt on her face went deeper than just her eyes. “You’re not happy that we’re having a baby,” she said accusingly.

“Why shouldn’t I be happy?” I asked, letting the smoke out through my nose. “I’m dancing in the streets. It’s great. We’ll be lucky if we don’t wind up livin’ there, the way things are going.”

“Danny!”

I stopped talking and looked at her. Her eyes had filled with tears. I dragged at my cigarette silently.

Through her tears she asked plaintively: “Danny, don’t you want a baby?”

The pain in her voice ran all the way through me and wound up in my heart. I pulled her to me roughly. “I’m sorry, Nellie,” I said quickly. “Of course I want a baby. It’s just that I’m worried. Babies cost dough, and that we ain’t got.”

She smiled tremblingly through her tears. “Babies don’t ask for much,” she whispered. “All they need is love.”

But it hadn’t been quite that easy. They needed a few bucks too. I remembered how, when the last buck we had saved ran out, we had gone downtown to the relief office and applied for help. The way the clerk had looked at us—at me, then at Nellie with the child big in her—as if to ask what right did we have to bear children when we couldn’t take care of ourselves. There had been the endless
questionnaires
to fill out, and the investigators had come to the house at all hours. The endless probing until there was no part of our lives that remained private, that could be called our own.

I remembered when the investigator had brought us the first cheque. She was a fat woman wearing an old fur coat. “This is for food and other necessities of life,” she had said as I took the cheque from her.

I had nodded without meeting her eyes.

“If we hear,” she continued in a flat, warning tone, “that you have spent any part of this on whisky or gambling or any purpose for which it is not intended, we will immediately stop further cheques.”

I could feel my face flaming, but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. The way I felt, I would never be able to look at anyone again.

That was before Vickie was born. The first time I saw her was when the nurse in the city hospital let me peek through the
glass-panelled
doors. Vickie, my daughter. Little and pink and blonde. I knew then that we had done nothing to be ashamed of, nothing wrong. It was worth any humiliation, any pain, just to stand there and look at her.

Then the nurse had let me go in and see Nellie. She was in a small ward on the fourth floor of the hospital, with seven other patients in the room besides her. She watched me walk up to the bed, her dark eyes wide and steady. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I bent over her bed and kissed her lips, my hand pressing down on her arm.

As she looked up at me, I could see a thin blue vein pulsing in her throat. She seemed very tired. “It’s a girl,” she said.

I nodded.

“But she’s got your hair,” Nellie added quickly.

“And your eyes and your face,” I said. “I saw her. She’s a beauty.”

Then Nellie smiled. “You’re not disappointed?” she asked in a small voice.

I shook my head violently. “She’s just what I wanted,” I said emphatically. “Another you.”

The nurse came by. “You’d better be going now, Mr. Fisher,” she said.

I kissed Nellie again and left the small ward. I had gone home and spent a restless night in the lonely apartment. Early in the morning I went out looking for a job.

As usual there had been nothing. Finally, frantic with fear that I wouldn’t be able to support my child, I decided to see if Sam would help me. I remembered how I stood in the street in front of the Empire State Building, in which he had his office, for almost an hour mustering up my nerve. Then I went inside and rode the elevator up to his office.

The receptionist wouldn’t let me into the office. He didn’t want to see me. I went downstairs to a public telephone and called him. His voice was gruff when he answered. His first words sent a chill through me and I slammed the receiver back on the hook with a sick feeling in my stomach as his words still echoed in my ear: “What’s the matter, kid? Yuh lookin’ for another hand-out?” It wasn’t until then that I realized that all the doors had closed behind me. There was no one I could really turn to. I had made my bed.

Nellie came home with the baby and the whole summer had almost gone by before I found anything. That was just a few weeks ago, and the job didn’t even pay enough to live on. It had been night work and I was so desperate for something to do that I grabbed at it. Clerk at a soda fountain, six bucks a week and tips. If I could keep it secret from the relief people, we’d be able to get along and the few extra bucks would be a great help. The seventy-two dollars a month they doled out didn’t go very far.

I flushed down the last pump and looked up at the clock. Half-past two. I pulled off my apron and tucked it away beneath the counter, where I could find it tomorrow night. If I hurried to the subway I could be home by three o’clock. That way at least I could get a few hours’ sleep before the relief investigator came in the morning with the cheque. She usually got to the house by seven o’clock.

I
COULD
hardly keep my eyes open as I sat at the table and listened to Miss Snyder’s nasally monotonous voice. Miss Snyder was the relief investigator in charge of our case. She was one of those people who are expert at everything. Right now she was giving Nellie instructions on how to prepare a meat sauce for spaghetti without meat.

“I think that’s wonderful, don’t you, Danny?”

Nellie’s voice snapped my eyes open. “What?” I stammered. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You weren’t even listening, Mr. Fisher,” Miss Snyder said, coldly reproving me.

“Oh, I was, Miss Snyder,” I said quickly. “I heard every word you said.”

She looked at me sharply through her thin steel-rimmed glasses. “You seem very tired, Mr. Fisher,” she said suspiciously. “Were you up late last night?”

I was wide awake now. “No, Miss Snyder.” I hastened to relieve her suspicions. “I went to bed early, but I couldn’t sleep. I was very restless.”

She turned back to Nellie. I could see that I didn’t impress her. “And how is the baby, Mrs. Fisher?” she asked gurgingly.

“Would you like to see her, Miss Snyder?” Nellie was on her feet already. I smiled to myself. Nellie knew how to handle her. Miss Snyder was a spinster and a sucker for babies. From now on I could fall asleep and snore at the table and she wouldn’t know I was there.

I waited until Miss Snyder left; then I stumbled blindly back into bed. I didn’t even bother pulling off my trousers before I was asleep. I awoke with the feeling I was alone in the house. I turned my head to look at the clock on the table next to the bed. It was noon. A small white paper propped up against the clock stared at me. It was from Nellie.

I dropped the note back on the night table and rolled out of bed, stood up, and stretched. The bones in my shoulders snapped gratefully. I headed for the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror as I spread the shaving soap over my face. I looked weary and older. The skin over my cheekbones seemed taut and dry, there were faint crinkles in the corners of my eyes. I took a deep breath and began to work the lather into my skin. I felt better when my face was
completely
covered with fluffy whiteness.

The key rattled in the lock just as I finished shaving. I put down the razor and went to the door. Nellie was standing there, Vickie in one arm, a bag of groceries in the other. I took the baby from her and walked back into the kitchen. Nellie followed me with the groceries.

“I paid up the butcher and the grocer,” she said, putting the bag down on the table, “and I’ve got six dollars left over after the rent, gas, and electricity is taken out.”

“Good,” I said. Vickie seemed curiously quiet. Usually when I held her she would squirm restlessly and playfully. “What’s the matter with Vickie?”

Nellie glanced at her. “I don’t know,” she answered, a worried look crossing her face. “She’s been like that all morning. In the store she began to cry. That’s why I’m home so early.”

I held Vickie up in the air at arm’s length over my head. “What’s with my baby girl?” I crooned, jouncing her lightly, waiting for her to gurgle happily as she always did when I held her like that.

Instead she began to cry. Her loud wails filled the room. I turned bewildered toward Nellie. I never knew what to do when the baby cried, my fingers all turned thumbs.

“Let me put her to bed,” Nellie said practically, taking her from me. “Maybe she’ll feel better after her nap.”

I sat down at the table and had me a cup of coffee while Nellie put her to sleep. I looked through the paper idly. There was an article there about the relief bureau checking up on some people who were suspected of holding out on them. I showed it to Nellie when she came back into the kitchen.

She looked at me doubtfully. “Do you think Miss Snyder suspects anything?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t see how she can. I’m always home whenever she comes up.”

“Maybe some of the neighbours might have noticed and said something to her.”

“They wouldn’t do that. They’ve enough troubles of their own.”

“Still, she acted peculiar this morning. As if she knew something.”

“Forget it,” I said, more confidently than I felt. “She knows from nothin’.”

Vickie began to cry again. Suddenly in the midst of her crying she began to cough, a heavy, mucousy cough. Nellie and I looked at each other for a moment, then she turned and hurried into the bedroom. I followed her.

By the time I reached her, Nellie was holding the baby in her arms and patting her back lightly. The coughing stopped. Nellie looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. “She’s so warm, Danny.”

I touched a light palm gently to Vickie’s forehead. It felt warm and damp to my hand. “Maybe she’s got a little fever.”

“She was coughing last night,” Nellie said. “Maybe she caught my cold.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Nellie had been fighting a cold for over a week now. “Let’s get the doctor,” I said.

The baby began to cry again. We stared at each other helplessly. Nellie looked down at the baby, then up at me. “Maybe we better,” she agreed. “The medical card is on the kitchen shelf. Call him right away on the phone in the hall downstairs.”

The doctor turned from the baby and beckoned to Nellie. “Let me have a look at you while your husband puts the baby back in the crib,” he said.

Hesitantly Nellie asked: “Is she all right?”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the doctor nodding as I placed Vickie in the crib. “She has a cold that seems to have centred in her throat. I’ll give you something for it.” He held a tongue
depressor
in his hand. “Open your mouth and say: ‘Ah.’”

Nellie opened her mouth and he put the wooden stick against her tongue. She gagged and began to cough. He withdrew the depressor quickly and waited for her coughing spell to pass, then reached into his bag for his thermometer.

“Well?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “Stop worrying, Mrs. Fisher,” he said. “Let’s see if you have any fever.” He put the thermometer in her mouth, took out a small prescription pad, and began to write on it.

Just as I finished covering Vickie, he asked me: “Do you have your assignment number?”

“It’s in the kitchen, Doc,” I said quickly. “I’ll get it.”

When I came back into the room, the doctor was studying the thermometer he had taken from Nellie’s mouth. “You have a little fever too, Mrs. Fisher,” he said. “Did you know that?”

Nellie shook her head.

“You better get into bed and stay there a few days,” he told her.

“But, Doctor,” she protested, “you haven’t told us what’s the matter with Vickie.”

He looked at her impatiently. “The same thing is the matter with both of you. You both have a sore throat and a cold. I’ll give you a couple of prescriptions, one for you and one for her. Follow the directions and you’ll both be okay.”

“Do you think she caught it from me?” Nellie asked worriedly.

The doctor was writing again. “I don’t know who caught it from who, but just get these filled and keep warm and I’ll stop by tomorrow to have a look at you.” He held out the two prescriptions and turned to me. “Do you have the number?”

Silently I gave him the small white card that the relief people had issued to me. It was an authorization card to call for medical help at their expense.

The doctor’s pen scratched quickly in his notebook. I could see that we had already received all the time he would give us for the two dollars per visit he got from welfare. He finished writing and handed the card and a slip of paper to me. “Give this to your investigator when you see him,” he said brusquely, picking up his bag.

I looked at the paper in my hand. It was a Welfare Department medical-call form. “Yes, Doctor,” I said.

He was already at the door. “Now do as I say,” he said warningly over his shoulder before he stepped out. “Keep in bed and take the medicine as directed on the bottle. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

The door snapped shut behind him and Nellie looked at me. I stared back at her for a second, anger filling my gorge. I crumpled the piece of paper viciously in my hand. “The son of a bitch!” I swore heatedly. “Lookin’ for a buck, that’s all. Too busy to even talk to yuh because you’re on relief! I bet he don’t talk to his other patients like that!”

Nellie began to cough. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it,” she managed to gasp. “At least he comes. Lots of’ em won’t even bother when they find out who pays the bill.”

I was still angry. “He doesn’t have to act like we were dirt!”

She walked back to the bed and slumped on to it. “You ought to know by now how people are, Danny,” she said wearily.

The patience in her face made me ashamed of my outburst. She was right. If I didn’t know the score by now, I would never know it. I hurried over to her and took her hand. “Give me the prescriptions,” I said. “I’ll run down to the drugstore an’ get them filled. I think I’ll stay home tonight.”

She shook her head. “No, Danny,” she told me, “just get them filled. Then you can go to work. We need the money.”

“But the doctor said for you to stay in bed,” I protested.

She smiled wanly at me. “They always say that, but who ever heard of staying in bed with a lousy little cold? You go to work. We’ll be all right until you get home.”

I ran up the stairs and stopped in front of my door. I could hear Nellie coughing as I slipped the key into the lock. A shaft of light coming from the bedroom struck my eyes. I shut the door quickly and hurried to the bedroom. “Nellie, are you up?” I called.

I stopped in the doorway. Nellie was just straightening up over the baby’s crib. “Danny!” she cried.

I crossed the room with one long stride. “What’s the matter?”

She grabbed hold of my jacket. “You’ve got to do something!” She was coughing and trying to speak all at the same time. “Vickie’s burning up!”

I looked down into the crib, my hand reaching for the baby’s forehead. It was hot to my touch. I looked at Nellie.

“She has a hundred and three!” Her voice was trembling.

I was staring at Nellie’s eyes. They were dark, feverish pools. I tried to keep my voice calm. “Don’t get panicky,” I said quickly. “Babies often have fever that high. You look like you’ve got some yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, a note of hysteria creeping into her voice. “We have to do something for Vickie!”

I gripped her shoulders. “Take it easy! I’ll run down to the phone and call the doctor. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She was crying now, the tears running down her face. “Yes, Danny, yes.” She turned and straightened the covers over Vickie. “Hurry, Danny, she’s on fire!”

The spinning dial on the telephone made a loud, ratchety sound in the hallway. I heard a click and then the telephone at the other end of the wire began to ring. It rang for several seconds before the receiver was picked up. A man’s sleepy voice answered: “Yes?”

“Is that Dr. Addams?” I asked.

“This is Dr. Addams speaking,” the voice replied.

“Doc, this is Danny Fisher,” I said quickly. “You were over to see my kid today.”

His voice sounded slightly annoyed. “Yes, Mr. Fisher. I know.”

“I think you better come over right away, doctor. The baby’s temperature is up to a hundred and three and she’s burnin’ up!”

His voice came slowly through the telephone. “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah, Doc,” I answered. “But I don’t like her looks; she’s all red an’ sweating. My wife is too. Her fever must be way up.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the doctor spoke again. “Did they take the medicine as I prescribed?”

“Yes, Doc.”

“Then stop worrying, Mr. Fisher.” The doctor’s voice carried a professionally impersonal reassurance that had no conviction for me. “It’s quite customary for a fever to go up at night in the case of a severe cold. Give them both something warm to drink, and cover them well. They’ll be better by morning and I’ll come by then.”

“But, Doc——” I protested.

“Just do as I say, Mr. Fisher.” The doctor’s voice came through with firm finality, followed by a click.

I stared at the dead receiver in my hand, suddenly realizing he had hung up on me. Viciously I slammed it back on the hook.

Nellie’s eyes were wide as I came back into the apartment. “Is he coming?” she asked anxiously.

“Nope,” I said as casually as I could. I didn’t want her to worry any more than she had to. “He said it was nothin’. It happens all the time. He said to give you both somethin’ warm to drink an’ cover you well.”

“Danny, do you think it’s all right?” Her voice was nervous.

I smiled down at her with a confidence I did not feel. “Sure, it’s okay. He’s a doctor, isn’t he? He must know what he’s talkin’ about.” I led her gently toward the bed. “Now you lie down an’ I’ll make you some hot tea. You’re not feelin’ so good yourself.”

Reluctantly she got into bed. “Make Vickie a bottle first,” she said.

“Sure, Nellie, sure,” I said. “Now cover up an’ keep warm.”

Carefully I carried the cup of tea into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Come on, now,” I said gently. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

She took the cup and slowly lifted it to her lips. I could see the warmth go through her. “This is good,” she said.

I smiled at her. “Of course it’s good. Look who made it. Danny of the Waldorf.”

She smiled faintly back at me as she held the cup to her lips again. “See how Vickie is,” she told me.

I bent over the crib. The baby was sleeping quietly. “She’s sleepin’ like a charm,” I said.

Nellie emptied the cup and handed it back to me, then lay back against the pillow, her black hair spreading over the white pillow-case.

“Baby,” I said, in a wondering voice, “I almos’ forgot how good you look.”

She smiled up at me sleepily. I could see she was very tired. “
Working
nights seems to do something for your eyesight, Danny,” she said, trying to joke. “It even makes you see better.”