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Authors: Christina Stead

Letty Fox (88 page)

BOOK: Letty Fox
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I saw my father and Persia took this very well, and Persia came and shook my hand. “I'll be a sister to you,” said she, “
hypocrite, ma sæur, mon semblable
: does that satisfy you?”

“I'm a new woman! That isn't even supposed to be funny.”

At that moment Bill telephoned and told me that he had blown up his family, told them exactly what he thought of them, and that they had reciprocated. His father was particularly peeved and said he would cut him off without a dollar. All the fireworks were for that little what-have-you, Edwige, whom his poor innocent parents found captivating. They had settled it between them that Edwige was to reform him, teach him how to make a profit, and that he would become a deacon and hand round the plate on Sundays to begin with. This Age of Innocence was rudely broken into by Bill, going up there fortified by several Martinis, to tell them that I was his prairie flower. I could tell by his curiously extravagant and witty style that it had been a serious blow-up and that my papa's picture of holding Mr. Van Week's hand, was a pipe dream. I rushed out of the house and met Bill in our bar at the corner of Gramercy Park, a subdued gentlemanly place with Venetian blinds, and we talked it over. He said, “The old man was not ashamed to trot out the old one about cutting me off; he might do it at that; a life in business breeds the unfortunate habit of rapid decision. They learn it in the Pelman course or perhaps just in business. I never did like business for that: human relations are not a matter of rapid decision. However, to streamline my conversation, Toots, we are out in the cold, cold world with the wolf howling at the door.”

“I've been through this before, Bill,” said I; “but frankly I do want to settle down. Do you mean I must work and keep you and do my own housework? I've cleaned up so often after my casual boy friends, who believe cigarette ash is good for the rug, that I don't want to do it for you and harbor the sentiments I do harbor against them.”

“I hope you have sent a circular to those boy friends, by the way,” said Bill, solemnly, “for I have done the right thing by you, Letty. I went to a printer's today to get the announcements printed—I had gold print, I suppose it's bad taste, but what fun—and I will make three long-distance calls five minutes after we are married.”

“Fear not,” I dropped the tone of banter and kissed him. “Bill, it's all over, I didn't like it; but I had to; I told you before. I was looking for a husband; honestly I was. I was going to marry ever so many boys, just because I wanted to do the right thing. Now I've got a husband, touch wood, why should I break the Seventh Commandment? I have no leftovers from corn-syrup days; I like men but I'm done with them. It was fun while it lasted. I'm going into this in a businesslike way—oh, do I have to be so emphatic? I'm serious.”

“I know; I was kidding. We're made for each other.”

“I know. This is it.”

“How do you like that what-is-it Edwige winding my two old-timers round her finger? You'd think they'd have had more sense,” he said testily; “I'd like to skin her alive.”

“You liked her once, didn't you?”

“Let us now solemnly swear, dear, that never again will either one of us refer to our pasts; let us bury them in a common grave.”

“So help me God.”

“So help me God.

“Well, that's that,” he said; “since we're being decent, I'll take you home and later we'll look for a hotel room, for I think we'll have to pig it for a bit,” and gallantly, gaily he brushed me off at my Eleventh Street flat, and went into the night. I looked after him with satisfaction and thought of all his attractions, precisely that, his gaiety, gallantry, fits of irritation when Tories blustered (and he did not pussyfoot but came out at them starkly, since he was richer than they), his ease of living and his simplicity which enabled him to live for months at a time in a slum or in a ship's galley, just in order to assert his independence. He had been bankrupt and had fled the city, had come back in state, had had mistresses and easily dropped them, he dressed well and had no hokum in his make-up; he was better than I, in this respect. He worked continually, if not always successfully, and he was a sensible fellow, when he married he expected to have a home; a decent fellow, when he married he expected to love me and to see me love him. This was the best bargain I could have got out of life, with my frowsy, lazy and yet ignorant ways. Add to this his excellent good looks, his delightful build—he had that hairless, delicate, and sinewy shield-shape from shoulder to waist which sculptors like to show, those bronze plates bearing small nipples and bronze plates at the shoulders; fine muscles in the small of the belly and the back, long, graceful muscular thighs and long arching hands and feet. If his face was a little too small and boyish for his age, he had a good short nose and pleasant blue eyes, perhaps at times a little empty. He had few faults—he could be dragged into a discussion or a drinking party; he had a hot temper. Well, still, it is by the merest, rankest luck that I, Letty Fox, could find a man like that; and I went upstairs to my lonely flat, this time with a full heart and good will toward everyone. “I will try to do something for others,” I thought, “not fritter away my days,” and this was Bill's feeling too. One can't make a great stir, but one can be on the side of the angels. This was the modest program we set out for ourselves.

Mr. Van Week died soon after our marriage and died unrelenting, to our great surprise. Bill saw the notice of the funeral in the papers; this was the first intimation of his father's death. The next morning a letter came from the lawyer, which said Bill was totally disinherited by his father—the money went to some institution. There was his mother left, and Bill had some faint hopes of receiving something from her relatively small personal estate; but at present his mother was bitter with sorrow and would not see her son whom she accused of hastening his father's death. People always say this, and we did not feel ourselves guilty. However, there was no help from others coming to us and we had to set to and think about getting ourselves a home. I was still at work, but was sure by this time that I was going to have a baby; and as I had been through a disappointment of this nature several times, when I was not able to support a baby, and as I was obscurely, painfully jealous of all good women who have received their inheritance from nature, I explained to Bill that, whatever our circumstances, I would not let this chance slip by. “Who knows?” Bill was a little downcast at the idea that the future was taking toll of us so soon, but fairly soon showed the usual pleasure and we made what plans we could. This still left us, however, sitting in a Twenty-eighth Street hotel. But I did not need money. I did not need society. I was never alone and never despaired. What else can one hope for?

This is exactly where this finds me now, except that I am getting a little satisfactory embonpoint in Anita's style and at last feel I have something to live for. I always did, but not in this way. I can see now why society is organized in ways that seem so strange to youngsters. It is, of course, organized to a certain extent for babies. Another thing is that all this mad and rowdy time of my misguided youth I was looking for something—union with something, an ideal, a lover; but I have a different sort of union now, and this, I believe, is it.

We had not been in our hotel more than two or three days before Mother, who now took an extraordinary pride in me, told me Grandma Morgan had nearly died of a heart attack when she heard of the suicide of her son, Philip. Dora Morgan was staying indefinitely at Green Acres. Said Grandma, “Poor woman! Why not! She is a mother; poor woman.”

Grandma was now convalescing in a small suite at the Coverley.

“That's a hell of a sanitarium,” said Bill; “half the theatrical profession hangs out there.”

“That's why Grandma picked it,” said I. It came to me suddenly that Grandmother regularly promised a suit of furniture to whomever got married in the family; and when I telephoned her suite, which I did at once, naturally, I told her that if she was well enough I would bring my new husband with me.

“Well enough? What are you talking about?” cried Grandma. “Come at once, my darling; don't keep me waiting; take a taxi—at my expense.”

I could hear a vast murmur of gay voices as she was speaking, and I said to Bill, “This is a very bad wire, but all the wires in New York tick now.”

“They're all tapped, because they trace racing bets placed in New Jersey.”

“That's so.”

Bill knew the ins and outs of the fascinating worldly life which never came close to our petty interests. Every day I felt more exhilarated as I learned more from my husband. We set off that same afternoon to visit Grandma, and when we tapped at the proper door were surprised to hear the same joyous buzzing behind it. Someone ran to open the door to us, with a loud squeal, but seemed surprised to see us. It was Aunt Phyllis, overdressed as usual and too fleshy. She hung herself upon my neck and kissed Bill too fondly. I became cool and went in, taking off my gloves. The suite had an entry, with kitchenette, sitting room, and bedroom. The whole apartment was jammed with women, among whom one could see one or two graying clipped cadaverous heads—their husbands, one supposed. The women had all had facials and reeked of perfume. After a moment, we battled our way through to the bedroom, which was full of doors, gadgets, and mirrors, and in the midst of which was a grand bed. There was Grandma, her thick white hair shining, newly marcelled, rings on her fingers, and a white fox fur round her shoulders. She looked radiant. I threw myself upon her bosom and knees, crying, “Grandma darling,” and there was a long deep embrace full of the joy of life which bubbled in us both. Grandma then threw herself upon Bill with as much enthusiasm as upon me, and I felt rather indignant at the bright, lustful twinkle in the old lady's eye. I, however, could do nothing. I murmured, with dignity, that I hoped Grandma was not overdoing it; it did not seem to me that she was resting, and my eyes swept the room. She had been showing off some new clothes, for boxes with tissue paper were lying about, silks and rayons trailing out of them. A box of powder had been spilled on the dressing table. Seven bottles of perfume stood on the white mantelpiece. The remains of a card game were on a card table pushed into one corner. There was a tray full of bottles, and cocktail glasses were all over the room.

“My darling Letty, married at last,” said Grandmother affectionately, and inviting me once more into her arms. This remark chilled me, but I felt obliged to lend myself to her rapture again. At this moment, looking over her plump shoulder, I perceived one of the grayheads approaching; it was Percival Hogg himself; he kissed me, was very pleasant indeed, and avuncular to Bill. Then Grandmother began laughing heartily and saying that Uncle Perce was off to Paraguay, because of all the women there. About this time one of the women came running with a flower in her hand, plucked from one of the hastily assembled vases in which their bouquets were choking to death, and crying, “Oh, Dr. Hogg, what is the name of this flower; we are having a little discussion—”

He said severely, “Ma'am, I'm a plant physiologist, not a seedsman's catalogue,” at which the poor old thing looked quite chapfallen, or she did not understand him. She continued to look sadly at him, so that he continued, “I am P. Hogg, ma'am, I have published several monographs on plant physiology; I sell microscopes to study cell structure, I don't know their damn names: I would scorn to.” He then turned his attention back to Bill and me and told us he had chartered a ship, for quickest sailing; that the ship's name was the U.S.S.
Sons of Liberty
. It was a former war freighter now idle, of about four thousand tons; he had a crew, for men in the N.M.U. were already looking for jobs, and he had a passenger list of the martyrs of alimony; he had acquired it as he chugged over the roads of the U.S.A. selling his scientific instruments. He had a captain, and he and they all would sail “without a woman aboard” to Paraguay, there to set up his colony, Parity, Paraguay.

“They have the highest ratio of women to men in the world, due to Lopez, who almost extinguished their manhood in his wars; it's impossible for women to tyrannize over men; none of the men do any work; they sit around all day long watching the women do the work. They're appreciated. I'm not going to discuss the question of equality; perhaps I will call it Imparity. I don't know.”

“But, Uncle Perce,” I cried, “you're a back-number; in the U.S.A., too, you're dreadfully outnumbered.”

“Good God,” said Bill, “look at the women in this room alone.”

“I don't care,” said P. Hogg obstinately, “I intend to see for myself ”; and looking rather nastily at me, he stumped off, with his head in the air.

Well, this is all. The frenzied crowd of Grandmother's friends boiled and bubbled round her, and every time I brought up the subject of the
suit
of furniture, the noise was such that she could not hear a word I was saying. Still, this was not the first snag Bill and I had run into; we took it with a good grace and soon left, without even a cocktail.

We went back to the hotel and, as I said, this is exactly where this finds me now; I don't think for a moment that this is the end of everything, but I'm no tea-leaf reader. I can only tangle with situations as they come along.
On s'engage et puis on voit
. Perhaps I just love life. I certainly expose myself to it; and I'm accessible to it. I don't ask myself, Will this last? It's a question of getting through life, which is quite a siege, with some self-respect. Before I was married, I had none; now, I respect not only my present position, but also all the efforts I made, in every direction, to get here. I was not always honest, but I had grit, pretty much; what else is there to it? The principal thing is, I got a start in life; and it's from now on. I have a freight, I cast off, the journey has begun.

BOOK: Letty Fox
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