Dark Passage (15 page)
Parry turned the pages of the newspaper
and came to the sports section. Basketball was scheduled for
tonight. He remembered he had always liked basketball. He
remembered he had played basketball while he was in the reformatory
in Arizona, and later he had played on a Y. M. C. A. team when he
was living alone in San Francisco and working in a stock room for
sixteen a week. He remembered he went to the games every now and
then and one week end he went up to Eugene in Oregon to see a great
Oregon State team play a great Oregon team. He remembered how he
wanted to see that game, and how happy he was when finally he was
in there with the crowd and the teams were on the floor and the
game was getting under way. He remembered once he took Gert to a
game on a Saturday night and it was after they were married four
months. She kept saying she wasnt interested in basketball and she
would rather see a floor show some- where. He kept saying she ought
to give basketball a chance because it was really something
exciting to see and after all it was a change from floor shows. She
said it was because seats for the basketball game were only a buck
and a half or somewhere around that and he just didn't want to put
out nine or ten or eleven in a night club. He said that wasn't a
fair thing to say, because he was always taking her wherever she
wanted to go on Saturday night, and she always wanted to go to
night clubs, and it wasn't nine or ten or eleven anyway, it was
more on the order of sixteen and seventeen and nineteen, because
they both did considerable drinking. He didn't say the other things
he was thinking then, that when she was in the night clubs she kept
looking at tall, bony men, always kept looking at them, never
looking at him, never listening to him, always kept turning her
head to look at tall, bony men with high cheekbones and hollow
cheeks. How he would finally stop talking and she wouldn't even
realize he had stopped talking. Yet that night she had finally
condescended to go to the basketball game with him. And it was an
exciting game, it was very close, getting hotter all the time, and
he was all pepped up and he was happy to be here. She was sitting
beside him, he remembered, not saying anything, not asking him
about the game, not curious about the way it was played, but
interested nonetheless. Interested in the tall bony boys who ran up
and down the floor. Interested in their tall bony bodies, their
long arms, their long legs glimmering in the bright light of the
basketball court as they ran and stopped and ran again. And when
she had seen all of them that she could see, she said she was fed
up looking at all that nonsense down there, a bunch of young fools
trying to cripple each other so they could throw a ball through a
hoop. She said she wanted to leave. He asked her to stay with him
until the game was over. She said she wanted to leave. She said if
he didn't leave with her she would go alone. She was talking loud.
He begged her to lower her voice. She talked louder. People around
them were telling them to keep quiet and watch the game. She talked
louder. Finally he said all right, they would leave. As they got up
and started to leave he could hear other men laughing at
him.
Parry turned the pages and arrived at the
womans section. Somebody was telling the women how to cook
something. He remembered she hated to cook. They ate out most of
the time. There were nights when he came home very tired and he
cringed at the thought of going out and standing in line at the
popular and expensive restaurants she liked, and how he wished she
would learn to cook, because even on the few nights when they ate
at home she gave him uncooked food, cold cuts or canned fish and
the only thing hot was the coffee. Once he tried to talk to her
about it and she started to yell. She took the percolator and
poured the coffee all over the floor.
He remembered she took two thirds, more
than two thirds of the thirty-five a week he made. He remembered
she hardly ever smiled at him. When she did smile it wasnt really
a smile, it was because she was amused at something. She never told
him what amused her. And things that amused her didn't amuse him.
He remembered once they were walking down the street and there was
a traffic jam and one car bumped into another and they locked
bumpers. She said, Good.She started to laugh. He tried to see
something funny in it. He tried to laugh. He couldn't
laugh.
Once they were walking toward the
apartment house and a delivery boy passed them on a bicycle, with
the wire tray heaped with packages on the handle bars. The bicycle
hit a bump and turned over. The boy fell on his face and the
packages went flying all over the street. The boy had a cut on his
face and he was sitting there in the street and putting a
handkerchief to the blood on his face. She started to laugh. He
asked her what she was laughing at. She didnt answer. She kept on
laughing.
He was beginning to feel tired again. The
pain in his face was dull now, and he was getting accustomed to it.
But as he sat there measuring the pain he gradually realized there
was something else besides the pain. Like little feathers under the
bandage. That was the itch Coley had talked about. The healing
process, the mending was under way. He welcomed the itch. He told
it to get worse. He turned the pages of the newspaper and saw
nothing to catch his interest, and besides he was very tired. He
pushed the newspaper aside and let his head go back against the
pillow. He closed his eyes, knowing he wouldnt sleep, knowing he
would just stay there, resting. Feeling the pain, feeling the itch
under the bandage, flowing into the pain, then crawling under the
pain. Once he opened his eyes and looked toward the window. There
was going to be rain in San Francisco. The sky was a heavy,
muttering grey, getting ready to let loose. He closed his eyes
again. He didn't care if it rained. He was here, he was in here, he
was all right in here. And in less than five days he would be out
of here and he would be going away with his new face and everything
would be all right. And the buzzer was sounding and everything
would be all right. And the buzzer was sounding.
He sat up.
The buzzer was sounding again. Then it
stopped. He sat there waiting. It sounded again. It was a needle
going into him. And then it stopped.
He waited. He wondered who it was down
there. He took himself off the bed and walked to the window and
waited there. Then he saw someone going away from the apartment
house and walking across the street, walking toward the Studebaker
that was parked on the other side of the street. And it was the man
who had given him the lift. It was Studebaker.
It was really Studebaker, with different
clothes, new clothes and no hat, and really Studebaker. And
Studebaker was looking for him. Studebaker alone. No police. Parry
couldnt get that, couldn't get anywhere near it.
The sky gave way. Rain came
down.
Parry stood there at the window and
watched Studebaker getting into the car. The car crawled, jolted,
went forward, went on down to the corner and made a turn. Parry
began to quiver. Studebaker was going to the police. But why now?
Why not before? Why now? If Studebaker hadnt talked to the police
until now, why was he going to see them now?
The rain came down hard and steadily.
Parry went away from the window, went toward the bed, then stopped
and went toward the dresser and stood before the dresser, looking
in the mirror. He decided to take off the bandage and get out of
the apartment before Studebaker came back with the police. He
brought his hands to his face and his fingers came against the
adhesive. He tugged at the adhesive. A tremendous burst of pain
shot across his face and went leaping through his head. His fingers
came away from the adhesive. He told himself that he mustnt be
afraid of the pain. He must try again. He must get out of here, and
he couldn't afford to be wearing the bandage when he went out. He
got his fingers on the adhesive and once more he tugged at it and
once more the pain slashed away at him. He knew he wouldn't be able
to stand any more of it. He decided to stay here and let them come
and get him. He went into the living room and seated himself on the
sofa and looked at the floor. He sat there for a while, and then he
got up and went into the bedroom and got the cigarette holder. He
returned to the living room and picked up a pack of
cigarettes.
He sat there looking at the floor and
smoking cigarettes. He smoked nine cigarettes in succession. He
looked at the stubs in the ash tray. He counted them, saw them dead
there in the heaped ashes. Then he wondered how long it would take
until the police arrived. He wondered how long it would be until he
was dead, because this time he wouldnt be going back to a cell.
This time they had him on a charge that would mean the death
sentence. He looked at the window and saw the thick rain coming out
of the thick grey sky, the broken sky. He decided to take a run at
the window and go through the glass and finish the whole thing. He
took a step toward the window and then stopped and turned his back
to the window and looked at the wall. He stood there without moving
for almost a full hour. He was going back and taking chunks out of
his life and holding them up to examine them. The young and bright
yellow days in the hot sun of Maricopa, always bright yellow in
every season. The wide and white roads going north from Arizona.
The grey and violet of San Francisco. The grey and the heat of the
stock room, and the days and nights of nothing, the years of
nothing. And the cage in the investment security house, and the
stiff white collars of the executives, stiff and newly white every
day, and their faces every day, and their voices every day. And the
paper, the plain white paper, the pink paper, the pale-green paper,
the paper ruled violet and green and black in small ledgers and
larger ledgers and immense ledgers. And the faces. The faces of
statisticians who made forty-five a week, and customers' men who
sometimes made a hundred and a half and sometimes made nothing. And
the executives who made fifteen and twenty and thirty thousand a
year, and the customers who sat there or stood there and watched
the board. The customers, and some of them could walk out of that
place and get on their yachts and go out across thousands of miles
of water, getting up in the morning when they felt like getting up,
fishing or swimming around their grand white yachts, alone out
there on the water. And in the evening they would be wearing
emerald studs in their shirt-fronts with white formal jackets and
black tropical worsted trousers with satin black and gleaming down
the sides, down to their gleaming black patent-leather shoes as
they danced in the small ballrooms of their yachts with tall thin
women with bared shoulders, dripping organdie from their tall thin
bodies as they danced or held delicate glasses of champagne in
their thin, delicate fingers. And when these customers came back to
the investment security house they came in their gleaming black
limousines and they came in very much tanned and smiling and he
would be there in his cage, looking at them, thinking it was a pity
such fortunate people had to eventually die, because it was really
worthwhile for them to live on and on, they had so much to live
for, they had so many things to enjoy. He liked to see them coming
in wearing their expensive clothes, smoking their expensive cigars,
talking with their expensive voices. He was so very glad when they
came in, when they stood where he could see them, because he got a
lift just looking at them. There were times when he wished he could
talk to them, when he wished he had the nerve to start a
conversation with one of them. If he could only have a talk with
one of them so he could hear all about the wonderful things, the
wonderful houses they lived in, the wonderful trips they made, the
wonderful wonderful things they did. As he looked at them, as he
thought of the lives they led, the luxuries they enjoyed, he
decided that if he used his head and had some luck he might be able
to climb up toward where they were. That was all it really was, a
matter of using his head and having a little luck, and he decided
to get started. And that was about the time when he decided to take
the correspondence course in statistics.
He went into the living room and put
another cigarette in the holder. He put himself on the sofa and
rested there, sucking at the holder. He tried to build a mental
microscope to deal with these tiny things he had on the table of
his mind. He came to a point that became a wall and he couldnt
slide under or climb over. He had to stay there. Now he was getting
tired again. He took the stub out of the holder, crushed it in a
tray. He let his head go back against the softness of the sofa. His
eyes closed and the thoughts circled his brain, circled more
slowly, and slowly, and then he was asleep.
The door opening pulled him away from
sleep. He sat up and looked at her. She was closing the door. Her
arms were heaped with packages. Now she came toward him. She said,
How do you feel?
He nodded.
Everything all right?
He nodded.
She said, Punctual, am I not? Its
exactly six. And now we'll have some dinner. Feel
hungry?
He nodded.
She went into the kitchen. He could hear
her moving around in there. He waited on the sofa, waited for
dinner, waited for the buzzer to sound again, waited for Studebaker
to come up with the police.
The dinner tasted fine, even though it
went in through the glass straw. There was beef broth, there was
the tan cream of a vegetable-beef stew, there was a butterscotch
pudding thinned down to liquid. He gestured his willingness to help
with the dishes. She told him to go into the other room and play
some records. He went in and got a Basie going under the needle. It
was Sent For You Yesterday And Here You Come Today. And Rushing was
beginning to veil his heart out when the telephone rang.
Parry stood up. He looked at the
telephone. It rang again just as Rushing repeated his cry that the
moon looked lonely. She came out of the kitchen, looked at the
phone, looked at Parry. She took a step toward the phone. It rang
again. Parry lifted the needle from the record.
She looked at Parry as the phone rang
again. She said, Theres nothing to worry about. I know who it
is.
She picked up the phone.
Hello? Oh, yes, hello, yes-yes?-oh, Ive
just had dinnerno, thanks anywaywellwellall right, when can I
expect you?all rightright.
She put down the phone and looked at
Parry. She said, That was Bob Rapf. Hell be here in an
hour.
CHAPTER 13
Parry raised his arms to indicate that he
did not understand.
She said, Itll be all right. You stay in
the bedroom. He won't know you're here.
Parry gestured toward the bedroom, then
raised his arms again.
She said, He wont look in the
bedroom.
Parry lowered his head and shook it
slowly.
Please dont worry about it, she said.
He looked up. She was smiling at him.
He shrugged.
She went back in the kitchen. When she was
finished with the dishes she came in and straightened the living
room. As she emptied an ash tray she said, I know you think its a
mistake, letting him come here. But it can't be any other way. I've
known him for so long, I've been seeing so much of him lately, it's
got to a point where I have a definite hold on him. I wish it
wasn't that way. But as long as it is that way, I've got to go
along with it. I know what happens to him when I refuse to see him.
I wish I knew some way to break it without ripping him apart. But
there doesn't seem to be any way to break it. All I can do is wait
for it to die out.
She emptied another ash tray. She looked
at him and saw that he was looking at her.
She said, Its not physical. It never
was. It never will be. It can't be. What he likes about me is the
things I say, and the things he thinks I think about, the feelings
he thinks I have. All he wants to do is be with me and talk to me
and look at me and get a picture of the things I'm thinking. Even
when I have nothing to say he just likes to be there with me. I
don't know why I started it. I guess perhaps I started it because I
felt sorry for him. He had no one to really be with.
All the ash trays were now emptied into
one big tray. She took the tray into the kitchen. When she came
out, she said, I guess thats what it was. I was sorry for him. I
still feel sorry for him. But I can't let it go on much further.
Have you ever seen him?
Parry shook his head.
Hes a good-looking man, she said. He's
thirty-nine now but he looks older. You can't see the grey in his
hair because he's blond, but you can see the lines in his face. He
has mild blue eyes, and that's the way all of him is, very mild,
even though he's built heavy. And he's not very tall. He's a
draftsman and he works at a shipyard. He likes expensive clothes.
He likes to spend money. He and Madge had a baby but it died when
it was less than a year old. Did she ever tell you about
that?
He nodded.
Did she ever tell you about
him?
He nodded.
I imagine she must have painted him
badly. She did that when she spoke to me about him. That was after
she knew I was seeing him. She didnt try to block it. She just
struck up a close friendship with me, much closer than I liked, and
she began to tell me things about him. She wasn't very clever about
it, for instance she said he was cheap and of course she should
have known that I knew differently. She said he was selfish and he
isn't that way at all. What she wanted me to do was give him
walking papers, not because she wanted him back, but because she
wanted him to lose me. She still wants that. She wants him to lose
everything. She keeps telling me I'd be doing myself a big favor if
I closed the door on him.
Parry nodded.
You mean you agree with her?
He shook his head.
Oh, you mean she told you the same thing.
I suppose she tells everyone that. I cant understand her. She
ought to realize she'll never be happy as long as she keeps
interfering with him. Or maybe that's the only thing that gives her
happiness. Interfering.
The buzzer sounded.
She frowned. That cant be Bob. Much too
early.
Parry stood up. It had to be Studebaker.
And the police.
She said, Go in the bedroom. Ill find
out who it is.
Parry went into the bedroom and closed the
door. He sat on the edge of the bed and he was hitting the joints
of his fingers together. The itching under the bandage was
beginning to grow, to spread, and he wanted to get at it. He sat
there, hitting the joints of his fingers together. He heard a door
opening. He heard voices and they were both feminine, and one of
them belonged to Madge Rapf.
But thats ridiculous, Irene was
saying.
Honey, honey, youve got to help me. I'm
scared out of my wits, Madge said.
Ridiculous.
Why is it ridiculous? Madge said. Look
what he did to George Fellsinger. You surely read about it. Why, he
went up there andit gives me the shakes just to think of it. And
if he did that to George hell do it to me. He's got it in for me,
you know that. You're got to let me stay here, honey. Let me hide
here. Oh, let, let me
Want a drink?
Yes, please honey, let me have a drink.
Oh, my God, Im in terrible shape. I haven't been able to eat a
thing all day.
Can I fix you something? Irene
said.
No, Im not hungry. How can I be hungry?
He's going to kill me. He's going to look me up and when he finds
me he'll oh, God Almighty, what am I going to do?
Pull yourself together, Irene said.
theyll catch him.
They havent caught him yet. Listen,
honey, as long as they haven't caught him I've got to hide. It was
my testimony that sent him up. I tell you I'm so scared I don't
know whether I'm coming or going.
Sit down, Madge. Sit down and relax. You
cant let yourself go to pieces like this.
Parry heard a series of dragging, grinding
sobs.
Between the sobs, Madge was saying, Let
me stay here.
I cant.
Why not?
Well, I-I fail to see the necessity of
it.
Oh, I see. You dont want to be put
out.
It isnt that, Madge. Really, it
isn't.
Well, what is it, then? This place is big
enough to hold two. Its-
Its this I'm expecting Bob here any
minute.
All right, Ill hide. I'll go in the
bedroom.
No, Irene said. Dont do
that.
Why not?
Well, itsit's sort of cheap. You have
nothing to hide. You have nothing to be ashamed of.
Thats one way of looking at it, Madge
said. And then of course there's another way. Now she sounded as
if she was talking between puffs at a cigarette. Of course,
there's a chance he'd walk into the bedroom.
Do you think he does that?
I dont know.
If you dont know, why do you insinuate?
I think we ought to understand each other, Madge. You can't make
statements like that and expect me to take it without a whimper.
You've said things on that order before, little needles here and
there and every now and then, and I tried to think you didn't mean
anything by it. But this time the needle's gone in just a bit
deeper. And I don't like it. I want you to know I don't like
it.
Honey, you neednt get all excited. It
wouldn't make any difference to me even if
Please, Madge.
Let me stay here, honey. I tell you Im
afraid to go out of here alone.
This is silly.
All right, its silly, but that's the way
it is with me and what can I do about it? For God's sake, honey,
try to understand what a fix I'm in. You've got to let me stay here
or else you've got to stay with me wherever I go. Oh, come on,
honey, let's pack up
The buzzer sounded.
You better go now, Madge.
For Gods sake-
Look, Madge. You go down the hall. Wait
there until you hear the door closing. Then leave.
The buzzer sounded.
But Im afraid-
Madge, I dont want you to be here when
he comes in.
Why not?
Lets not start that again.
The buzzer sounded.
Parry stood up and looked at the window.
He wondered if the window offered a way of reaching the fire
escape. He knew it was Studebaker down there. It wasnt Bob Rapf.
It was Studebaker. And the police.
Go on, Madge. Go now.
Oh, Im so afraid.
Go now, Madge.
The buzzer sounded.
I wont go. I won't go out alone. I
can't. Parry will find me. I know he'll find me. Oh, God, I'm so
terribly afraid. Please, Ireneoh, honey, why won't you help
me?
The buzzer sounded and kept
sounding.
Look, Madge-
No, I wont go. NoI won't leave here
alone. Madge was sobbing again, the grinding dragging sobs that
dragged along with the buzzer as it kept sounding.
All right, Madge. Im going to let him
come up.
The buzzer stopped sounding.
Parry walked toward the window, walked
softly, slowly, came to the window and looked through the wet
glass, wet on the other side where the rain was hitting. The rain
was rapid and thick, racing down from the broken sky, dark grey now
and mottled dark yellow and fading blue. Parry put his fingers on
the window handles and started to bring pressure. The window
wouldnt give. He stepped away from the window and watched the rain
running down, oblique toward him, coming against the glass and
washing down.
He heard the door opening.
He heard a man saying, For Christs
sake
He heard Madge saying, Hello,
Bob.
He heard the man saying, What takes place
here?
Raining hard, Bob? It was
Irene.
Pouring, Bob said. But what I want to
know is what takes place.
Nothing very special, Irene
said.
I dont go for these deals, Bob said.
This looks as if it's been arranged.
Why should anything be arranged? Irene
said.
I dont know, Bob said. For Christ's
sake, Madge, what's wrong with you?
Im scared, Madge said. Honey, should I
tell him?
Tell me what? Bob had a mild voice,
trying to get away from mildness.
Sure, Irene said. Go on and tell
him.
Madge said, Its Vincent Parry. I'm
scared he'll find me. He'll kill me.
If he does, Bob said, Ill look him up
and shake his hand.
Madge let out a howl.
Bob, that wasnt necessary, Irene
said.
I cant stand it, Madge sobbed. I can't
stand it any more.
Neither can I, Bob said. Why wont you
leave people alone? Why do you go around finding excuses to come up
here. Irene doesn't want you here. Nobody wants you. Because you're
a pest. You're not satisfied unless you're bothering people. You
got on your family's nerves, you got on my nerves, you get on
everybody's nerves. Why don't you wise up already.
Do you know what you are? Madge said.
Youre a hound. You have no feeling.
No feeling for you, Bob said. No
feeling at all, except Im annoyed whenever I see you.
You married me, Madge said. Youre
still married to me. Don't forget that.
How can I forget it? Bob said. You see
these lines on my face? Theyre anniversary presents. Irene, will
you do me a favor? Will you ask her to please leave?
