Rich Man, Poor Man (3 page)

‘I don’t think it’s nice to laugh at people’s disabilities,’ Tom said. ‘Especially with a war on,’ Claude said, ‘with all those crippled heroes.’

‘What sort of an American are you,’ Tom asked, his voice rising patriotically. That’s the question I would like to ask, what sort of an American are you?’

The girl turned. “Get lost, kids,’ she said.

‘I want to remind you, sir,’ Tom said, ‘that I hold you personally responsible for anything your lady friend says.’

‘Don’t pay them no mind, Angela,’ the soldier said. He had a high, tenor voice.

The boys sat in silence again for a moment.

‘Marine, tonight you die,’ Tom said in a high falsetto, in his Japanese imitation. ‘Yankee dog, tonight I cut off your balls.’

‘Watch your goddamn language,’ the soldier said, turning his head.

‘I bet he’s braver than Errol Flynn,’ Tom said. ‘I bet he’s got a drawer full of medals back home but he’s too modest to wear them.’

The soldier was getting angry now. ‘Why don’t you kids shut up? We came here to see a movie.’

‘We came to make love,’ Tom said. He caressed Claude’s cheek elaborately. ‘Didn’t we, hotpants?’

‘Squeeze me harder, darling,’ Claude said. ‘My nipples’re palpitating.’

‘I am in ecstasy,’ Tom said. ‘Your skin is like a baby’s ass.’

‘Put your tongue in my ear, honey,’ Claude said. ‘Ooooh -I’m coming.’

That’s enough,’ the soldier said. Finally he had taken his hand out of the girl’s blouse. ‘Get the hell out of here.’

He had spoken loudly and angrily and a few people were turning around up front and making shushing noises.

‘We paid good money for these seats,’ Tom said, ‘and we’re not moving.’

“We’ll see about that’ The soldier stood up. He was about six feet tall. ‘I’m going to get the usher.’

‘Don’t let the little bastards get your goat, Sidney,’ the girl said, ‘Sit down.’

‘Sidney, remember I told you I hold you personally responsible for your lady friend’s language,’ Tom said. This is a last warning.’

‘Usher!’ the soldier called across the auditorium, to where the lone attendant, dressed in frayed gold braid, was sitting in the last row, dozing under an exit light. ‘Sssh, sssh!’ came from spots all over the theatre.

‘He’s a real soldier,’ Claude said. ‘He’s calling for reinforcements.’

‘Sit down, Sidney.’ The girl tugged at the soldier’s sleeve. ‘They’re just snotty kids.’

‘Button your shirt, Angela,’ Tom said. ‘Your titty’s showing.’ He stood up, in case the soldier swung.

‘Sit down, please.’ Claude said politely, as the usher came down the aisle towards them, ‘this is the best part of the picture and I don’t want to miss it.’

‘What’s going on here?’ the usher asked. He was a weary looking man of about forty who worked in a furniture factory during the day.

‘Get these kids out of here,’ the soldier said. They’re using dirty language in front of this lady.’

‘All I said was, please take your hat off,’ Claude said. ‘Am I right, Tom?’

‘That’s what he said, sir,’ Tom said, sitting down again. ‘A simple polite request. He has a rare eye disease.’

‘What?’ the usher asked, puzzled.

‘If you don’t throw them out,’ the soldier said, ‘there’s going to be trouble.’

‘Why don’t you boys sit someplace else?’ the usher said.

‘He explained,’ Claude said. ‘I have a rare eye disease.’

‘This is a free country,’ Tom said. ‘You pay your money and you sit where you want to sit. Who does he think he is - Adolf Hitler? Big shot. Just because he’s wearing a soldier suit. I bet he never got nearer to the Japs than Kansas City, Missouri. Coming here, giving a bad example to the youth of the country, screwing girls in public. In uniform.’

‘If you don’t throw them out, I’m going to clout them,’ the soldier said thickly. He was clenching and unclenching his fists.

‘You used bad language,’ the usher said to Tom.’ I heard it with my own ears. Not in this theatre. Out you go.’

By now most of the audience was booing. The usher leaned over and grabbed Tom by his sweater. By the feel of the

big hand on him Tom knew there was no chance with the man. He stood up. ‘Come on, Claude,’ he said. ‘All right, Mister,’ he said to the usher. ‘We don’t want to cause any disturbance.

Just give us our money back and we’ll leave.’ ‘Fat chance,’ the usher said. Tom sat down again. ‘I know my rights,’ he said. Then very loudly, so that his voice rang through the entire auditorium over the sound of the gunfire from the screen. ‘Go ahead and hit me, you big brute.’

The usher sighed. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you your money back. Just get the hell out of here.’ The boys stood up. Tom smiled up at the soldier. ‘I warned you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting for you outside.’

‘Go get your ma to change your diapers,’ the soldier said. He sat down heavily.

In the lobby, the usher gave them each thirty-five cents out of his own pocket, making them sign receipts to show the owner of the theatre. Tom signed the name of his algebra teacher and Claude signed the name of the president of his father’s bank. ‘And I don’t want to see you ever trying to get in here again,’ the usher said.

‘It’s a public place,’ Claude said. ‘You try anything like that and my father’ll hear about it.’ ‘Who’s your father?’ the usher said, disturbed. ‘You’ll find out,’ Claude said menacingly. ‘In due time.’ The boys stalked deliberately out of the lobby. On the street they clapped each other oh the back and roared with laughter. It was early and the picture wouldn’t end for another half hour, so they went into the diner across the street and had a piece of pie and some coffee with the usher’s money. The radio was on behind the counter and a newscaster was talking about the possibility of the German high command falling back into a redoubt in the Bavarian Alps for a last stand.

Tom listened with a grimace twisting his round baby face. The war bored him. He didn’t mind the fighting, it was the crap about sacrifice and ideals and our brave boys all the time that made him sick. It was a cinch they’d never get him in the army.

‘Hey, lady,’ he said to the waitress, who was buffing her nails behind the counter, ‘can’t we have some music?’ He got enough patriotism at home, from his sister and brother.

The waitress looked up languidly. ‘Ain’t you boys interested in who’s winning the war?’ ‘We’re Four F,’ Tom said. ‘We have a rare eye disease.’ ‘Oh, my rare eye disease,’ Claude said, over his coffee. They burst into laughter again.

They were standing in front of the Casino when the doors opened and the audience began to stream out. Tom had given Claude his wristwatch to hold so that it wouldn’t get broken. He stood absolutely still, purposely controlling himself, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, hoping that the

soldier hadn’t left before the end of the picture. Claude was pacing up and down nervously, his face sweating and pale from excitement. ‘You’re sure now?’ he kept saying. ‘You’re absolutely sure? He’s an awful big sonofabitch, I want you to be sure.’

‘Don’t you worry about me,’ Tom said. ‘Just keep the crowd back so I have room to move. I don’t want him grappling me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Here he comes,’

The soldier and his girl came out on to the sidewalk. The soldier looked about twenty-two or twenty-three. He was a little pudgy, with a heavy, sullen face. His tunic bulged over a premature paunch, but he looked strong. He had no hash marks on his sleeve and no ribbons. He had his hand possessively on the girl’s arm, steering her through the stream of people. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he was saying. ‘Let’s go get ourselves a coupla beers.’ Tom went over to him and stood in front of him, barring his way.

‘You here again?’ the soldier said, annoyed. He stopped for a moment. Then he started moving again, pushing Tom with his chest.

‘You better stop pushing,’ Tom said. He grabbed the soldier’s sleeve. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

The soldier stopped in surprise. He looked down at Tom, who was at least three inches shorter than he, blond and cherubic looking in his old blue sweater and basketball sneakers. ‘You sure are perky for a kid your size,’ the soldier said. ‘Now get out of my way.’ He pushed Tom to one side with his forearm.

‘Who do you think you’re pushing, Sidney?’ Tom said and jabbed sharply at the soldier’s chest with the heel of his hand. By now people were stopping around them and looking on curiously. The soldier’s face reddened in slow anger. ‘Keep your hands to yourself, kid, or you’ll get hurt.’

‘What’s the matter with you, boy?’ The girl said. She had redone her mouth before coming out of the theatre but there were still lipstick smears on her chin and she was uncomfortable at all the attention they were getting. ‘If this is some kind of

joke, it’s not funny.’

‘It’s not a joke, Angela,’ Tom said.

‘Stop that Angela crap,’ the soldier said.

‘I want an apology,’ Tom said.

‘That’s the least,’ Claude said.

‘Apology? Apology for what?’ The soldier appealed to the small crowd that by now had collected around them. ‘These

kids must be nuts.’.

‘Either you apologise for the language your lady friend used to us in there,’ Tom said, ‘or you take the consequences.’

‘Come on, Angela,’ the soldier said, ‘let’s go get that beer.’ He started to take a step, but Tom grabbed his sleeve and pulled. There was a tearing noise and a seam broke open at the shoulder.

The soldier twisted around to view the damage. ‘Hey, you little sonofabitch, you tore my coat.’

I told you you weren’t going nowhere,’ Tom said. He backed away a little, his arms crooked, his fingers outspread. ‘Nobody gets away with tearing my coat,’ the soldier said. ‘I don’t care who he is.’ He swung with his open hand. Tom moved in and let the blow fall on his left shoulder. ‘Ow!’ he screamed, putting his right hand to his shoulder and bending over as though he were in terrible pain.

‘Did you see that?’ Claude demanded of the spectators. ‘Did you see that man hit my friend?’

‘Listen, soldier,’ a grey-haired man in a raincoat said, “you can’t beat up on a little kid like that.’

‘I just gave him a little slap,’ the soldier turned to the man apologetically. ‘He’s been dogging me all … ‘

Suddenly Tom straightened up and hitting upward, with his closed fist, struck the soldier, not too hard, so as not to discourage him, along the side of the jaw.

There was no holding the soldier back now. ‘Okay, kid, you asked for it.’ He began to move in on Tom. Tom retreated and the crowd pushed back behind him. “Give them room,’ Claude called professionally. ‘Give the men room.’

‘Sidney,’ the girl called shrilly, ‘you’ll kill him.’ ‘Nah,’ the soldier said, ‘I’ll just slap him around a little. Teach him a lesson.’

Tom snaked in and hit the soldier with a short left hook to the head and went in deep to the belly with his right. The soldier let the air out of his lungs with a large, dry sound, as Tom danced back.

‘It’s disgusting,’ a woman said. ‘A big oaf like that. Somebody ought to stop it.’

‘It’s all right,’ her husband said. ‘He’d said he’d only slap him a couple of times.’

The soldier swung a slow, heavy right hand at Tom. Tom ducked under it and dug both his fists into the soldier’s soft middle. The soldier bent almost double in pain and Tom

hooked both hands to the face. The soldier began to spurt

blood and he waved his hands feebly in front of him and tried to clinch. Contemptuously, Tom let the soldier grapple him, but kept his right hand free and clubbed at the soldier’s kidneys. The soldier slowly went down to one knee. He looked up Wearily at Tom through the blood that was flowing from his cut forehead. Angela was crying. The crowd was silent. Tom stepped back. He wasn’t even breathing hard. There was a little glow under the light, blonde fuzz on his cheeks.

‘My God,’ said the lady who had said that somebody ought to stop it, ‘he looks just like a baby.’

‘You getting up?’ Tom asked the soldier. The soldier just looked at him and swung his head wearily to get the blood out of his eyes. Angela knelt beside him and started using her handkerchief on the cuts. The whole thing hadn’t taken more than thirty seconds.

‘That’s all for tonight, folks,’ Claude said. He was wiping sweat off his face.

Tom strode out of the little circle of watching men and women. They were very quiet, as though they had seen something unnatural and dangerous that night, something they would like to be able to forget.

Claude caught up to Tom as they turned the corner. ‘Boy, oh boy,’ Claude said, ‘you worked fast tonight. The combinations, boy, oh boy, the combinations.’

Tom was chuckling. ‘Sidney, you’ll kill him,’ he said, trying to imitate the girl’s voice. He felt wonderful. He half-closed his eyes and remembered the shock of his fist against skin and bone and against the brass buttons of the uniform. ‘It was okay,’ he said. ‘Only he didn’t last long enough. I should have carried him a while. He was just a pile of shit. Next time let’s pick somebody who can fight.’

‘Boy,’ Claude said. ‘I really enjoyed that. I sure would like to see that fella’s face tomorrow. When you going to do it again?’

Tom shrugged. ‘When I’m in the mood. Good night.’ He didn’t want Claude hanging around him any more. He wanted to be alone and remember every move of the fight Claude was used to these sudden rejections and treated them respectfully.

Talent had its prerogatives. ‘Good night,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Tom waved and turned off down the avenue for the long

walk towards his house. They had to be careful to go to other parts of town when Tom wanted to fight. He was too well

known in his own neighbourhood. Everybody avoided him when they sensed one of his moods coming on.

He walked swiftly towards home down the dark street towards the smell of the river, dancing a little around a lamppost here and there. He’d shown them, he’d shown them. And he was going to show them a lot more. Them.

As he turned the last corner, he saw his sister Gretchen approaching the house from the other end of the street. She was hurrying and she had her head down and she didn’t see him. He slipped into a doorway across the street and waited. He didn’t want to have to talk to his sister. She hadn’t said anything that he wanted to hear since he was eight years old. He watched her almost run up to the door next to the bakery window and get her key out of her bag. Maybe once he would follow her and really find out what she did with her nights.