The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (32 page)

Uncle Benjy wore his ornate silk dressing gown and smoked a cigar. “Sit down and don’t stare, please. I know I’m getting thinner. I suppose you expect me to thank you for bringing her back?”

“Will you leave me alone, please?”

“I know what I’ve got so we won’t pretend. I knew before she came back. The day they let me out of the hospital I knew.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Benjy. But – well, where there’s life there’s –”

“Oh, shettup! Did she fill your head with foolish talk on the train?”

Duddy shrugged.

“Don’t let me ever catch you making fun of her. I’m warning you. Now there are some favors I have to ask. Why are you smiling?”

“Don’t you find it funny?”

“I have lots of money.”

“I know,” Duddy said.

“If you’ll give up those vulgar movies you’re making and take over the factory you can have fifty per cent. The rest is hers.”

“I’ve got other ambitions.”

“You can make more running my factory and you like money so much.”

“Why can’t Manny run it for her?”

“Manny’s a fool.”

“You mean I’m not a fool? Thank you, Uncle Benjy. Thanks a lot. I thought you were the only one in the world with brains.”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“I worked for you once. Remember?”

“How long will you hold a grudge, Duddel?” he asked, smiling.

“You think it’s funny. Everything about me’s funny. I’m a regular laughingstock. You know as a kid I always liked Auntie Ida. But I remember when you used to come to the house you always brought a surprise for Lennie. I could have been born dead as much as you cared.”

“Let’s not pretend. Everybody has his favorites. There was always the
zeyda
to bring you surprises. He’d never hear a bad word said against you.”

“Why,” Duddy asked, “did you try?”

“You’ve developed quite a
chutzpah
since I last saw you. You have money in the bank, I suppose.”

“Why did you send for me?”

“A man should arrange his affairs.”

“Well, if you can’t trust Manny to run the factory you’d better sell out. I’m not interested.”

“What is it about us, Duddel, that we can’t sit together for five minutes without a quarrel? I really brought you here to say thanks. I’m grateful for what you’ve done. Aw, what’s the use? We bring out the worst in each other.”

“We don’t pretend but.”

“That’s true. I wonder what will become of you, Duddel. Well …”

“I’ll never be a doctor, that’s for sure.”

“Now why did you say that?”

“Because Lennie never wanted to be a doctor either. You forced him.”

“I did my best for that boy.”

“You sure did, Uncle Benjy.”

“If I’d left it to your father to bring him up he’d be driving a taxi today.”

“I don’t like the way you talk about my father. I never have.”

“I’ll be generous. Max is not very bright. I can’t change that with my talk one way or another.”

“You’re very bright and nobody likes you. I’m sorry, Uncle Benjy. I say things I don’t mean. It’s just that you make me so sore sometimes …”

“We eat each other up, Duddel. That’s life. Take Ida. I know what you think of her. I know what everyone thinks … But she wasn’t always such a foolish woman. She was once so lovely that – I’m not apologizing for her to you. You understand that? It’s just – Well, I won’t be sorry to die. I’m leaving lots of money. There’s some for you too.”

“Jeez.”

“I thought we didn’t pretend?”

“Why didn’t you ever have time for me?”

“Because you’re a
pusherke
. A little Jew-boy on the make. Guys like you make me sick and ashamed.”

“You lousy, intelligent people! You lying sons of bitches with your books and your socialism and your sneers. You give me one long pain in the ass. You think I never read a book? I’ve read books. I’ve got friends now who read them by the ton. A big deal. What’s so special in them? They all make fun of guys like me.
Pusherkes
. What a bunch you are! What a pack of crap artists! Writing and reading books that make fun of people like me. Guys who want to get somewhere. If you’re so concerned how come in real life you never have time for me? It’s easy for you to sit here and ridicule and make superior little jokes because you know more than me, but what about a helping hand? When did you ever put yourself out one inch for me? Never. It’s the same with all you intelligent people. Except Hersh maybe. He’s different. You never take your hand out of your pockets to a guy like me except when it’s got a knife in it. You think I should be running after something else besides money? Good. Tell me what. Tell me, you bastard. I want some land, Uncle Benjy. I’m going to own my own place one day. King of the castle, that’s me. And there
won’t be any superior
drecks
there to laugh at me or run me off. That’s just about the size of it.”

“You’re such a nervy kid. My God, Duddel, you’re even touchier than Lennie and I never realized it. Take care. Take my advice and take care.”

“I don’t want your advice.”

“You don’t want anything from me. Come to think of it, you’re the only one in the family who never came here to ask for something. My God, it never occurred to me before. You’re the only one. Duddel, I’ve been unfair to you.”

“I can never tell if you’re joking. There’s such a tricky business in your voice, if you know what I mean?”

“I’m not joking. Lennie, your father, all of Ida’s family, nobody has ever come to visit me without the hand outstretched. Except you. Now isn’t that something?”

“There were lots of times I needed help.”

Uncle Benjy waited.

“No sir. I wouldn’t come to you.”

“You’re hurting me. You know that?”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a knock at the door. “That’s for me. It’s the doctor.”

Duddy rose.

“Would you come again?” Uncle Benjy asked.

Duddy rubbed the back of his head.

“Sometimes. When you’re free.”

“Sure.”

But Uncle Benjy knew he wouldn’t come. “Was I that bad to you when you worked for me?” he asked.

“You were my uncle,” Duddy shouted, “and I thought it was the right thing to tell you the
goy
was stealing from you. I’m no squealer. I wanted you to like me. You treated me like dirt.”

The doctor knocked again.

“You always looked for the bad side with me,” Duddy said.

“I wish I’d made more time for you. God help me but I wish I’d seen what your
zeyda
saw.”

The door opened. “May I come in, please?” the doctor said.

Without thinking, Duddy seized the doctor. “Don’t let him die,” he shouted. “He’s my uncle.” And then, embarrassed, he fled the house.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, “I didn’t realize I was interrupting.”

Uncle Benjy went to the window and watched Duddy leap into his car and drive off. Run, run, always running, he thought, he can’t even walk to his car. “What kind of pills did you bring me today?”

“You mustn’t be so cynical, Benjy.”

“I can’t stand pain, Harry. As soon as it starts for real I want the morphine. Lots of it.”

He won’t come again, Uncle Benjy thought. I don’t deserve it either.

“Benjy, please. What did the boy say to you? You’re so excited.”

“We’re a very emotional family. Come back later, please.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes. Go away, please,” Uncle Benjy said, turning his face away quickly.

Y
VETTE BROUGHT HIM THE NEWS
.

“Virgil’s been in an accident. The truck went into a tree outside St. Jerome. They had to use blow torches to get him out.”

Just when everything seemed to be going right, Duddy thought. Son of a bitch.

With the coming of summer there was the promise of two wedding movies and the camp featurette to be made for Grossman. The distribution side of Dudley Kane Enterprises had begun to show a nice profit too. Duddy had just been considering making a bid for more land at Lac St. Pierre when Yvette came into his office.

“Where is he?”

“At the Neuro. They brought him in at one last night.”

It had taken them nearly ninety minutes to free Virgil from the cab of the Chewie. Luckily he had been unconscious most of the time. But his injuries had been so severe, he had lost so much blood, that the ambulance driver had taken his time driving back to Montreal. “This guy’s had it anyway,” he said.

Five ribs were broken, his skull had been fractured in two places, and his spine had been severed near the base, but Virgil survived the crucial first night. Duddy and Yvette found him in the public ward. He was only semiconscious. His head had been shaved and bandaged, both eyes were blackened, and he was held in a huge plaster
cast. Virgil’s face was gray. A tube coming from an overturned bottle ran into an arm that was yellowish and twitching. He’s going to die, Duddy thought, and, his stomach rising, he took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

Virgil’s eyelids flickered, he smiled faintly. He had recognized them. Yvette began to sob quietly.

“I think we’d better go,” Duddy said, taking her arm.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You can stay longer tomorrow,” the doctor said.

Who are you trying to kid, Duddy thought, and outside the ward he excused himself. He swayed dizzily over a washbowl for a while, but he wasn’t sick. Duddy splashed cold water on his face, wiped his eyes, and went to look for the doctor and Yvette. The doctor was gone.

“He says Virgil will never walk again. His spine was smashed.”

“Let’s get out of here, please.”

“It has something to do with torn nerves and the spinal fluids. I couldn’t understand everything he said.”

He led her outside. They sat in the car together and smoked.

“I’ll take care of him for the rest of his life,” Duddy said. “He’ll never want for anything. I swear it.”

“It’ll be months and months before he gets out of bed. Then it’s a wheelchair for the rest of his life. If he pulls through, that is.”

“All right, Yvette. O.K. He’s my friend too.”

“They lose all sense of feel below the hips. They can’t control their bowels and they don’t know when they’re urinating.”

Duddy slumped forward with his forehead pressed against the wheel. He stared at the clutch.

“I want you to know all the details. You’re not going to get off easy.”

I wish I’d never met him, Duddy thought. I hope he dies and I never have to see him again. “You’re taking a lot for granted,” he said. “How do you know he had a fit? Accidents happen every day.”

“Their legs get thinner and thinner. Like dry sticks. They would
break them twenty times and they wouldn’t know and it wouldn’t heal. The circulation is practically dead.”

“He was happy to get the job. I didn’t force it on him.”

“You knew it was dangerous. I warned you.”

“Crossing the street is dangerous. You’ve got to live. A guy takes chances.”

“There’s no getting around it. You’re to blame.”

Only a week before, what with the summer season coming on, Duddy had considered hiring a man to work with Virgil. But after so many months the distribution side was just beginning to show a profit and Duddy had decided to hold back on the assistant until July first, when things would really be moving up north.

“I’ll take care of him. Anything he wants.”

But he knew what Yvette was thinking. Virgil’s fits had begun again when Duddy had asked him to move downstairs into Yvette’s apartment. He had understood, he said, that Duddy and Yvette wanted to be together, but he no longer ate with them every night he was in town and Duddy and Yvette sometimes went off to dinner or to the movies without him. He understood, he had said, but the fits began again.

“We were entitled to some privacy,” Duddy said, “weren’t we?”

“You always treated him like your personal message boy.”

“Look, I happen to like Virgie.”

“You like me and that doesn’t stop you from behaving like … well, like you owned me.”

“Oh,” he said, relieved, “we’re going to start on that, are we?”

“No, Duddy. We’re not.”

But when they got back to the apartment she gathered her bedclothes together. “I’d rather sleep downstairs,” she said.

“Would you like to marry me?” Duddy asked.

Yvette smiled.

“We could get married,” he said. “You know.”

“Are you beginning to worry that the deeds are in my name?”

Duddy slapped her hard across the face. “Get out of here!” he shouted.

Yvette didn’t come into the office the next morning or the morning after. She sat by Virgil’s bedside. Duddy drove out to St. Jerome to take a look at the truck. It was a complete loss and – according to the lawyer – once the insurance company established that Virgil was an epileptic he wouldn’t collect a cent. The projector, miraculously, was not badly damaged and the sound equipment could be easily repaired. Duddy had dug the playing schedule out of the battered glove compartment, ripped off the bloody cover, and shoved it into his pocket.

The lawyer told him. “He can sue you, you know. He’s got a case.”

“Aw.”

“He can sue you for everything you’ve got.”

“He’s a friend.”

“Get him to sign a release. I’ll make up a letter for you.”

“You must be crazy! I can hardly bring myself to go to the hospital.”

“Don’t look at me like that. You hired me to protect you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“I can’t do it. Let him sue me, better.”

Duddy began to interview replacements for Virgil but he didn’t like anyone he saw and finally decided to rent a truck and do the job himself in the meantime. He was short of cash and in no mood to chase around after deals or sit in the office. Reyburn was hired full time to work on the Hershorn wedding. He was competent, and not really such a bad guy, but Duddy was forever finding fault with him. “That’s not how Friar would have done it,” he’d say. Without Yvette the office was a bore. Going out on the road, doing Virgil’s job, was the only peace he knew those days, and heading back for Montreal at two in the morning he always drove as fast as he could, sure that Yvette would be home when he got there. He never left the apartment for even a package of cigarettes without leaving a
Back in 5 Min
note tacked on the door. Often he woke in the middle of the night,
thinking he had heard her on the stairs, but he did not go down to her apartment, and he waited for more than two weeks before he phoned her. “As long as you’re still drawing a salary,” he said, “you might show up in the office once in a blue moon,” and he hung up.