Read Nine Stories for Free Online Page B

away. But he turned back suddenly. "How 'bout a glassa
milk?" he said.
    "No,
thanks.... Thank you, though."
    Absently,
he bent over and scratched his bare ankle. "What's the name of
this guy she's marrying?" he asked.
    "Joan,
you mean?" said Ginnie. "Dick Heffner."
    Selena's
brother went on scratching his ankle.
    "He's
a lieutenant commander in the Navy," Ginnie said.
    "Big
deal."
    Ginnie
giggled. She watched him scratch his ankle till it was red. When he
began to scratch off a minor skin eruption on his calf with his
fingernail, she stopped watching.
    "Where
do you know Joan from?" she asked. "I never saw you at the
house or anything."
    "Never
been at your goddam house."
    Ginnie
waited, but nothing led away from this statement. "Where'd you
meet her, then?" she asked.
    "Party,"
he said.
    "At
a party? When?"
    "I
don't know. Christmas, '42." From his breast pajama pocket he
two-fingered out a cigarette that looked as though it had been slept
on. "How 'bout throwing me those matches?" he said. Ginnie
handed him a box of matches from the table beside her. He lit his
cigarette without straightening out its curvature, then replaced the
used match in the box. Tilting his head back, he slowly released an
enormous quantity of smoke from his mouth and drew it up through his
nostrils. He continued to smoke in this "French-inhale"
style. Very probably, it was not part of the sofa vaudeville of a
showoff but, rather, the private, exposed achievement of a young man
who, at one time or another, might have tried shaving himself
lefthanded.
    "Why's
Joan a snob?" Ginnie asked.
    "Why?
Because she is. How the hell do I know why?"
    "Yes,
but I mean why do you say she is?"
    He
turned to her wearily. "Listen. I wrote her eight goddam
letters. Eight. She didn't answer one of 'em."
    Ginnie
hesitated. "Well, maybe she was busy."
    "Yeah.
Busy. Busy as a little goddam beaver."
    "Do
you have to swear so much?" Ginnie asked.
    "Goddam
right I do."
    Ginnie
giggled. "How long did you know her, anyway?" she asked.
    "Long
enough."
    "Well,
I mean did you ever phone her up or anything? I mean didn't you ever
phone her up or anything?"
    "Naa."
    "Well,
my gosh. If you never phoned her up or any--"
    "I
couldn't, for Chrissake!"
    "Why
not?" said Ginnie.
    "Wasn't
in New York."
    "Oh!
Where were you?"
    "Me?
Ohio."
    "Oh,
were you in college?"
    "Nope.
Quit."
    "Oh,
were you in the Army?"
    "Nope."
With his cigarette hand, Selena's brother tapped the left side of his
chest. "Ticker," he said.
    "Your
heart, ya mean?" Ginnie said. "What's the matter with it?"
    "I
don't know what the hell's the matter with it. I had rheumatic fever
when I was a kid. Goddam pain in the--"
    "Well,
aren't you supposed to stop smoking? I mean aren't you supposed to
not smoke and all? The doctor told my--"
    "Aah,
they tellya a lotta stuff," he said.
    Ginnie
briefly held her fire. Very briefly. "What were you doing in
Ohio?" she asked.
    "Me?
Working in a goddam airplane factory."
    "You
were?" said Ginnie. "Did you like it?"
    "'Did
you like it?'" he mimicked. "I loved it. I just adore
airplanes. They're so cute."
    Ginnie
was much too involved now to feel affronted. "How long did you
work there? In the airplane factory."
    "I
don't know, for Chrissake. Thirty-seven months." He stood up and
walked over to the window. He looked down at the street, scratching
his spine with his thumb. "Look at 'em," he said. "Goddam
fools."
    "Who?"
said Ginnie.
    "I
don't know. Anybody."
    "Your
finger'll start bleeding more if you hold it down that way,"
Ginnie said.
    He
heard her. He put his left foot up on the window seat and rested his
injured hand on the horizontal thigh. He continued to look down at
the street. "They're all goin' over to the goddam draft board,"
he said. "We're gonna fight the Eskimos next. Know that?"
    "The
who?" said Ginnie.
    "The
Eskimos.... Open your ears, for Chrissake."
    "Why
the Eskimos?"
    "I
don't know why. How the hell should I know why? This time all the old
guys're gonna go. Guys around