Let Me Tell You: New Stories, Essays, and Other Writings

  “After all,” she said, “there’s no need to expose oneself needlessly to these things.” And so Mrs. Van Corn stayed at home. Mr. Van Corn, who went out every day, brought her back news of the outside world (“I saw Mark Carstairs the other day, and he sends his regards and asks may he call…”), and Mrs. Van Corn’s son, Howard, who was usually away at college, brought home occasional college acquaintances to cheer his mother up.

  Mrs. Van Corn was never bored. There was much to do around the house, and there were always her friends. She rested comfortably, fragile in lace, in a quiet room and waited for nice people to come to her, and nice people came, chatted, and departed. Rarely was Mrs. Van Corn disturbed by her guests. Perhaps one of them would speak loudly—this happened infrequently—and the guest would not return. “I can’t bear harshness,” Mrs. Van Corn would say afterward, appealingly. “I can’t endure unpleasantness, you know.” And so, when Howard came unexpectedly home from college to meet his mother’s gracious kiss, and her charmed “Oh, is it vacation again, my dear?”—when Howard came home, he hesitated before speaking to his mother about the very urgent matter that had brought him to her. He sat instead at her feet, upon an embroidered pillow that Mrs. Van Corn kept for her lapdog, and spoke to her softly and graciously. But when conversation had died, and Mrs. Van Corn was sitting with her hands in her lap gazing wistfully upon space, Howard ventured:

  “Mother…I’m a little worried.”

  “Yes, dear?” His mother’s eyes rested upon him tenderly.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard…It’s about conscription.”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You see, they want to take people about my age and make them join a sort of army…”

  “An army, my dear?”

  “Well…yes. A sort of army.”

  “But are we at war? I mean…I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, Howard.”

  “Not war,” Howard said, stumbling a little. “It’s for peace, somehow, Mother. They take all the boys between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one, I think, and they train them to be soldiers in case there is a war. Understand?”

  Mrs. Van Corn nodded seriously.

  “And they make them go, even if they don’t want to go, and I don’t want to go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…well, I want to finish college, and I don’t want to be in an army…”

  Mrs. Van Corn was trying very hard to understand. “But, dear, I don’t quite see. Won’t all your young friends be with you? I mean, won’t it be quite gay for you?”

  “But it will be so dreadful. I’ll have to drill all day, and work, and learn to shoot a gun…”

  Mrs. Van Corn leaned back with her eyes closed, and Howard paused, contrite.

  “Mother, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything to distress you. Just, about the guns…Well, you see why I would prefer not to go…”

  Mrs. Van Corn lifted her hand to her cheek. “Please, Howard,” she said. “Please don’t discuss the details with me anymore.”

  “Will you make my father fix it so I don’t have to go, then?”

  “I prefer not to think about it,” Mrs. Van Corn said.

  Howard waited for a moment, and then he began again. “Mother,” he said.

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “Mother, there’s going to be a war, you know.”

  “Is there, dear?” asked Mrs. Van Corn, obviously believing that the subject had been changed.

  “Very soon, Mother. Does it worry you?”

  “Your father mentioned it. He said it would be a good thing. He said we might do worse than go to war. War, he says, is a noble thing.” Mrs. Van Corn was quite tired out from the effort of remembering all this. She lay back again.

  “People like my father,” said Howard desperately, “believe in war as a benefit to mankind, because it solves unemployment and things.”

  Mrs. Van Corn nodded. “Perhaps it does,” she said.

  “But, Mother,” Howard said, “if I were in this peacetime army thing, I would have to go to war.”

  “Is there a war?”

  “There will be.”

  “And you will go to war, my dear?”

  “If I am in the army I will.”

  Mrs. Van Corn opened her eyes, and looked seriously at Howard. “My dear,” she said, “I would be proud of you.”

  Howard stared. “Why?”

  “War is a noble thing,” Mrs. Van Corn said, and closed her eyes again.

  “But I might get shot, or wounded, Mother,” Howard said. “Mother,” he added urgently, “you wouldn’t want to see me blind, would you? Or shell-shocked?”

  “Please, Howard!” his mother said, sitting up straight.

  “But you wouldn’t like to have to take care of me, would you?”

  “There are institutions for such cases,” Mrs. Van Corn said vaguely.

  Howard took a deep breath. “Suppose I was killed, Mother?”

  “Your grandfather fought in the Civil War, my dear,” Mrs. Van Corn said firmly. “And he was a hero.”

  Howard stood up. “Very well, Mother,” he said. “There is only one thing for me to do. I shall get married, and so be exempt from conscription.”

  “Married?” Mrs. Van Corn exclaimed. “Why, Howard, my dear boy!”

  “Immediately,” Howard said.

  “Some nice girl,” Mrs. Van Corn said dreamily, “some sweet girl.”

  “Then I won’t have to go,” Howard said, almost tearfully.

  “Bring her up to dinner soon,” Mrs. Van Corn said.

  “But, Mother—”

  “After all, my dear, you are getting on to the age when a man must assume his responsibilities. And I think that a wife…and a grandson,” Mrs. Van Corn went on rather more bleakly. “But a young wife,” she added happily. “Bring her soon, really, Howard. Tomorrow?”

  “But…” Howard began. Then: “Yes, Mother,” he said, controlling his voice, and then, immediately: “Will you excuse me, please, Mother?”

  “Of course, my dear boy,” Mrs. Van Corn said, opening her eyes. “Run along, my dear.”

  As Howard left the room, Mrs. Van Corn watched him affectionately. “The dear boy,” she said to herself. “A wife! Such a gay wedding. And clothes!” I shall go out to the wedding, Mrs. Van Corn decided suddenly. I am sure everything will be charming at my own son’s wedding. Then: “The dear boy,” she said, and let her eyes close again.

  4-F Party

  Rickey Parker was out in the kitchen counting glasses when the doorbell rang. He looked through the kitchen door, saw Pearl just putting down her cigarette preparatory to rising, and then, coming out of the kitchen holding a bottle of bourbon, he said: “I’ll get it. It’s probably Jillie and that cousin of hers.”

  Pearl rose and stood in the living room near the piano, waiting. When she saw that it was Jillie and her cousin, she stepped forward after the flurry of greetings and introductions and took Rickey by the arm. “So glad to see you,” Pearl said in her best voice to the cousin. “It’s nice of you to come around with Jillie.”

  “Pearl, darling,” Jillie said, “this is Ruth. I call her Ruthie. She’s adorable. You’ll love her. She’s without a husband now too, and I think we’re going to have grand times together, all of us.”

  “I’m so glad you could come tonight,” Pearl said to Ruth. “It must be very lonely for you at first.”

  “It is, a little,” Ruth said. She was very small and spoke in a little voice, looking up at Pearl and barely smiling. “I guess I’ll be okay, though.”

  Rickey had Jillie’s coat and had taken her by the arm and was pulling her into the kitchen. “So that’s what I was thinking,” he said. “I thought, If there are really eight women for every man, why shouldn’t I be the man….” They disappeared into the kitchen, and the door swung back and forth behind them.

  “Come in and sit down, won’t you?” Pearl said. She felt eager to be a good hostess, to see that Ruth was comfortable and
warm. I imagine she has that effect on everyone, Pearl thought suddenly, men especially. “How long has your husband been gone?”

  Ruth sat down on the couch and folded her hands on her lap, not looking at them. “Not long yet,” she said. “Two weeks, about.”

  “Are you here just visiting with Jillie?” Pearl asked. “Or permanently, or what?”

  “I’m going to get a job here, I think,” Ruth said hopefully. “Welding, maybe.”

  “Ever done it before?” The doorbell rang again. Pearl half rose, waiting for Rickey.

  He called from the kitchen: “Will you answer that, Pearl?”

  “We’re making drinks,” Jillie added.

  Pearl went to the door and opened it. “Audrey,” she said, “hello.” Why do women always look so funny alone at night? she thought. I guess you’re so used to seeing them with someone. “How are you?” she asked.

  “Darling,” Audrey said, “such an incredible taxi driver! He was so funny; wait till you hear.”

  “I can’t wait,” Pearl said.

  “I can’t repeat it,” Audrey said, “I’ll die. Jillie here?”

  “Hello,” Jillie said from the kitchen doorway. “Rickey and I made you people some powerful drinks.”

  Rickey came into the doorway behind Jillie. “Another of my girlfriends,” he said. “Meet the one man left in town, Audrey.”

  “He’s crazy,” Jillie said. “He says he’s going to get eight girls for himself, because that’s the ratio these days.”

  “I’m going to love every minute of this,” Rickey said. “Everyone go sit down and I’ll bring this stuff in.”

  Pearl led Audrey over to Ruth and introduced them. “Ruth’s husband left only two weeks ago,” she added.

  “You poor kid,” Audrey said. “Mine left seven months ago.”

  “Don’t pay any attention to her, dear,” Pearl said. “She really misses him terribly.”

  “Where is he now?” Ruth asked in her soft voice.

  “Good Lord!” Audrey shrugged elaborately. “Would they tell me? I get letters from everywhere—he could be in Berlin!”

  Ruth looked at Audrey. “Seven months is a long time,” she said.

  “We’re all in the same boat,” Pearl said, “except me. What with Rickey not being taken at all, I’m probably going to be the only wife left in town before long.”

  “Imagine being stuck with Rickey for the duration!” Audrey said.

  “You’re all stuck with Rickey for the duration,” Rickey said, coming into the room with a tray. Jillie followed him, with a bowl of pretzels in each hand. “I’m the one 4-F in sight, girls, and you’d better get used to the idea now.”

  “Where’ll I put this stuff?” Jillie asked. “You comfortable, Ruthie?”

  Ruth nodded.

  “Silly kid’s lonesome as hell,” Jillie said. “Just been married a few months.”

  “Really?” Pearl said to Ruth.

  “Not quite a year,” Ruth said softly.

  “My. God.” Audrey rose and stood dramatically by the piano. “Look, everyone,” she said, “here’s the ideal state. Married just long enough to get the fun of it, and then grass-widowed for—”

  Pearl cut in quickly, “Where is your husband now?”

  “He’s in Texas somewhere,” Ruth said. She accepted the drink Rickey held out to her. “Thank you so much,” she said.

  “I want all you girls to know,” Rickey said, “I want all you girls to know that from now on I’m the big shot around here. From now on you girls are going to be mixing drinks for me, and bringing me my slippers, and crowding around me so thick—” He began to sing, waving a drink in his hand. “ ‘Over hill, over dale, da-da-da-da-da-da-da, as the 4-Fs go rolling along….’ ”

  “Rickey!” Pearl said. Rickey looked at her over his shoulder.

  “Listen, dear wife,” he said, “you’ve got to make up your mind to share me with all these charming ladies from now on. I’m just coming into my own.”

  “Why don’t you ration yourself?” Pearl asked bitterly.

  Rickey said immediately: “A young man deciding to ration—”

  “Himself and his primitive passion,” Audrey added.

  “Himself and his primitive elation,” Jillie insisted.

  “He said, ‘I can afford,’ ” Rickey said, “To be high and adored—”

  “Because I myself am all the fashion,” Audrey finished.

  “Fayshion,” Jillie said.

  Pearl went over quietly to where Audrey was sitting. “What do you hear from Carl?” she asked.

  “The same old thing,” Audrey said. “He’s working hard, and very happy to be—”

  Rickey had heard them, and he interrupted with a shout: “Another man’s name! Another man’s name has been mentioned in my presence!”

  “There, darling,” Jillie said. She put her arm around Rickey. “You still have me and Ruthie.”

  “They ought to give me the Purple Heart for this,” Rickey said. “Talk about wounded in action.”

  “Like to play bridge, or something?” Pearl asked Audrey. “This is liable to go on and on.”

  Rickey got up and went over to stand in front of Pearl. “Listen,” he said, “we’re just having a lot of fun, trying to make these girls forget that they’re all alone and maybe show them a good time. Why do you have to go spoiling everything?”

  “You can only handle one at a time, dear,” Pearl said, with a smile she knew was not as kind as it might be. “We have to work in shifts, after all.”

  “Swing shift,” Jillie said instantly.

  Rickey began to laugh. “My good old Jillie,” he said.

  Pearl caught Ruth’s eye, and Ruth went across the room to where Pearl was sitting with Audrey. “You two look so confidential,” Ruth said, “I’m afraid to interrupt.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Audrey smiled. “We’re just talking.”

  “I thought there might be something we could do,” Pearl said. “Maybe even some silly game. After all, you probably didn’t come to hear Rickey make a fool of himself.”

  “Honestly,” Ruth said, leaning against the fireplace, “it’s nice just being with people.”

  Rickey and Jillie, arm in arm, bore down on them, singing, “ ‘As the 4-Fs go rolling along.’ ”

  “What you girls gossiping about?” Rickey demanded.

  “We were just talking to Ruth,” Audrey said.

  “Seems to me I barely met you,” Rickey said, looking at Ruth. “You’re without a husband too, aren’t you?”

  “Only two weeks without,” Ruth said shyly.

  “Wait a while,” Rickey said. “Where’s the old man?”

  “My husband?” Ruth said. “In Texas, somewhere, typing.”

  “Typing?”

  “He’s only limited service,” Ruth explained, turning to Pearl. “His eyes.”

  “Mrs. Limited Service,” Rickey shouted, hoisting his glass. “Here’s to Mrs. Limited Service.” And to Ruth he prompted, “A big strong man in spite of his eyes, though?”

  “He’s nice and strong,” Ruth admitted. She turned to Pearl again. “It’s just because of his eyes,” she repeated.

  Jillie giggled. “If anything could keep you from missing your big strong husband,” she said, putting an arm around Rickey’s shoulder, “it’s this big strong 4-F.”

  “It’s my blood pressure,” Rickey said. “Every time I see a lovely girl like Ruthie, it goes up and up and up and up and up—”

  “That’s why they won’t let him in the Army,” Pearl said.

  “I’m sorry,” Ruth said to Rickey. “That you’re not in the Army, I mean.”

  “Dear little Ruthie,” Rickey said, “she’d miss me if I went. Just pretend I’m your husband,” he said to Ruth. “I’m the only man left in town, and I intend to make the most of it.”

  “I’m beginning to feel like a fraction of a wife,” Pearl said. “Bridge—Jillie? Audrey? Ruth?”

  “Honey,” Audrey was
saying to Ruth, “you’ll find you’re not so lonesome after a while. After all, he won’t expect you to shut yourself away from everything.”

  “You think he’s behaving wherever he is?” Jillie added.

  “Bridge?” Pearl said insistently, her hand on Ruth’s arm.

  “Look,” Audrey said, “mine’s been gone so long….I figure he doesn’t want to come back to any cross old maid.”

  “I won’t be any cross old maid,” Ruth said.

  “What you want to do,” Jillie said helpfully, “is have a little fun. Enjoy life. Have a good time.”

  “I missed mine terribly for a while,” Audrey said.

  “I told you, darling,” Jillie said to Ruth. “We’ll cheer you up if anyone can.”

  “I’ll cheer her up,” Rickey said. “Who’s the man around here?”

  Ruth laughed. “I’m not worried,” she said.

  “Ruthie,” Rickey said, “all my life I’ve been waiting for a girl like you. You’re my ideal, I think. Come, kiss me.”

  Ruth laughed again.

  “Listen,” Rickey said heroically, “you’ll be glad enough to find a guy like me before the war’s over.”

  “Rickey,” Pearl said, “you shouldn’t talk like that.”

  Rickey waved one hand at Pearl. “Don’t listen to her,” he said. “She’s a sour old woman.”

  “Go on, Ruth,” Pearl said, “make him shut up.”

  Ruth looked at Pearl for a minute, then stood still while Rickey came across to her, leaned over and kissed her quickly, and stepped back. “Next shift,” he said.

  “Happy now?” Pearl snapped at Rickey.

  “Don’t rush,” Rickey said. “It’ll be your turn in a minute.”

  Ruth stood for a moment where Rickey had left her, then walked out into the hall and picked up her coat. Pearl rose to stop her just as the door closed.

  “Well,” Rickey said into the silence, “what a lousy sport she was.”

  Pearl sighed. “Bridge, girls?” she asked.

  The Paradise