The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz

  Sandra smiled.

  “Don’t lose that card. You get us a job in Westmount and there’ll be something in it for you. I’m no piker, you know.”

  “Do I look as if I need the money?”

  “I never met a pretty girl yet who couldn’t use a few extra bucks for a nice dress.”

  “Tell Leonard not to worry.”

  “Can do,” Duddy said. “Cheerio.”

  10

  Max was out. Duddy phoned Yvette and his grandfather and Uncle Benjy and when he returned to the office he called his father again. “He’s in Toronto.”

  “What in the hell’s he doing there?”

  “A fling. He’s been studying too hard, that’s all. I’m leaving on the four o’clock train. I’m too tired to drive.”

  “Maybe I oughta go with you?”

  “Ixnay.”

  “He’s awright? You’re not kidding me?”

  “I’ll bring him home tomorrow as good as new.”

  “You’re a good kid.”

  “Sure.”

  Max phoned back two minutes later. “Listen, is Uncle Benjy going with you?”

  “No. Certainly not.”

  “Awright. Hey, one minute. Has Lennie got a broad with him there?”

  “A dozen maybe. If they’re any good I’ll bring one home for you.”

  “Hey, I’m your father. Don’t forget that. There should be respect.”

  Duddy laughed.

  “I mean that,” Max said.

  “That’s not why I’m laughing. I’m laughing because I feel good. Cheerio.”

  Duddy phoned Bernie and then he rang Mr. Friar. He told him he had to go to Toronto for a couple of days. There were some things he wanted to discuss with him first, however, and they arranged to meet for a drink.

  “First off,” Duddy said, “keep your hands off Seigal’s girl. He’s on to you. Here’s a list of suggestions for the movie.”

  “I told you when I started, Kravitz, that I will tolerate no artistic interference.”

  “They’re only suggestions. You can throw them out if you want to. Do you need any money?”

  Mr. Friar began to stammer. “Here.” Duddy gave him a hundred dollars. “Oh, before I forget. Yvette will be back at seven. Take her out for a good dinner, Mr. Friar. I’d really appreciate that.”

  “Doesn’t the competition worry you?”

  Duddy’s face brightened. “Gwan.” He clapped Mr. Friar on the back. “You’re old enough to be her father.”

  “What a charming boy you are!”

  “I’m going to miss my train,” Duddy said.

  “Wait. There’s something I want to ask you. In some ways you’re just about the shrewdest bastard I’ve ever met, yet I happen to know that you’re buying land under Yvette’s name.”

  Duddy set down his bag.

  “Don’t worry. She didn’t tell me. I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  “So?”

  “Boesn’t it worry you having the deeds under her name?”

  “A friend is a friend. You’ve got to trust somebody… Jeez, I’ve gotta run.” But Duddy stopped short at the door. “Hey,” he shouted, “I’ve got a seat in the club car. Style?

  Mr. Friar lifted his glass to him. “Cheers,” he said.

  “I’d trust you too,” Duddy shouted. “Prosit.” he ran off.

  Duddy got into Toronto at ten-thirty. He had never been there before and he had no hotel reservation. Imagine, he thought, if my grandfather had had another ten bucks in his pocket when he came to Canada I would have been born here. I would never have gone to F.F.H.S. or found Lac St. Pierre. He took the address Sandra had given him out of his pocket again. A number on Church Street. That tells me a lot, he thought. But Duddy was in an excellent mood. He had never traveled so far on his own before and the excitement of the club car was still with him. At least eight guys had exchanged cards with him. I’m good at making contacts, he thought. One of the men who had sat with him in the diner, the gray-haired one, was going all the way to Chicago. He was with Massey-Harris. “The market is hard this year,” he told Duddy. Another guy in the diner, this one very nice, had told him, “I like doing business with the people of your race. I’ve never had any trouble with them.”

  “Good of you to say so.”

  The last man to make up their dinner party was a jovial Westerner. Ed Brody was stopping off in Toronto for the Grey Cup Finals. “Are we ever going to give those Argos a licking,” he said. “Christ Almighty.”

  They discussed the communist menace.

  “If I were Truman,” the gray-haired one said, “I’d pull out of the U. N. It’s just a glorified debating society.”

  “You’ve got a point there,” Duddy said.

  Duddy had no trouble getting a taxi outside the station. The address was a door over a Chinese laundry. This is worse than St. Urbain Street, he thought. There was a Room to Let and a bowl of paper flowers in the bay window alongside. He rang three times before the landlady came. “I’m looking for Leonard Kravitz.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “He’s my brother. We’ve got the same mouth.”

  “Isn’t that nice for you?”

  Duddy showed her a picture. “I know he’s staying here.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “You’re a fine lady. Anybody can see that.”

  The landlady began to tap her foot. “Have you got a search warrant?”

  “Listen. Listen here. I go to the movies too. I’m not a cop. I’m his brother. Lennie! Hey, Lennie! Lennie!”

  A door opened on the third floor.

  “It’s me. Duddy!”

  “Duddy!”

  Duddy pushed the landlady aside and took the stairs two at a time. The whole lousy house was permeated with goy Bacon grease. The way they can live, Duddy thought. Jeez.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Me and Bulldog Drummond went to different schools together. Aw,” Duddy said, grabbing his brother, punching and hugging him, “Sandra gave me your address. I had to twist her arm to get it but.”

  “You went there?” Lennie asked, breaking free.

  “Yeah. Come on inside and close the door. I’ll bet your landlady’s standing down there and listening to every word. Look at you. Wow!”

  Lennie needed a shave. He’d lost weight too. “I’m all right,” he said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Sure. Who said no? Now let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m not going home. I can’t. I’m finished at medical school.”

  “Look, I’m starved. We can’t talk in this dump. Is there anywhere near here where we can get a good smoked meat?”

  They went to a restuarant on Yonge Street. “Well,” Duddy asked, “is it good to see me?”

  “Nothing will make me go back.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why’d you run away then?”

  “I felt like it.”

  “Great! Now that you’ve brought me up to date I can go home.”

  “I’m going to get a job here. Tell Daddy I’m O.K.”

  “You tell him yourself. Daddy wants you to be a doctor. That’s his dream of a lifetime.”

  “Everybody wants me to be a doctor. What about what I want? Look, even if I wanted to I couldn’t go back to medical school.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t say. I gave my word.”

  “No kidding?”

  “And if Uncle Benjy doesn’t like it he can go to hell.”

  “I’ll tell him that. I’ll tell him that Lennie took all that money from you over the years just to prove how much he hated you. What’s the diff, I’ll say, you’ve got lots of kids of your own. It isn’t as if you put your heart into educating Lennie… Daddy is something else. All the other drivers know he’s a big liar anyway. They won’t be surprised when you don’t turn out a doctor.”

  “Will you leave me alone please?”

  “I’ll t
ell Daddy you’re getting a job here as a shipper. There’s a big future for you. I’ll tell him he doesn’t have to pimp for Josette any more so that he can give you gifts like Uncle Benjy.”

  “What?”

  “Any more messages for home?”

  “I’m getting one of my headaches,” Lennie said.

  “Tell me why you can’t go back to medical school even if you wanted to.”

  “I’ve given my word of honor. I’m sworn to silence.”

  “What are you? A boy scout.”

  “I’m a gentleman.”

  “Come again. This ear is blocked.”

  “You think just because I wasn’t born in Westmount I can’t be a gentleman?”

  “Ah,” Duddy said.

  “You think just because some of our people made buckets during the war and others, like Uncle Benjy’s pals, wouldn’t think twice about handing over war secrets to Russia, that I still can’t be a gentleman?”

  “I’ve got it. You’re an anti-Semite.”

  “O.K. I’m an anti-Semite. I prefer the company of Gentiles.”

  “You don’t mind my sitting here, I hope.”

  “You asked me, I told you.”

  “I mean you’re not scared of being contaminated?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Because I’ve got a message for you. Sandra says not to worry. Her father doesn’t know and Dr. Westcott promised not to tell him.”

  “That’s fine. Thanks.”

  “But she also told me that Dr. Westcott is going to try his best to find out who did it and that when he does there’s going to be a lynching. I’m looking at the leading candidate.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t look so good, Lennie. Headache?”

  “Lay off.”

  “What is it her father doesn’t know?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “You’re a gentleman.”

  “Lay — off — please.”

  “You’re a chicken, that’s what you are.”

  “Sh. People are beginning to look at us.”

  “You want me to tell you what happened? You performed an abortion on that girl.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Lennie said. “Quick.”

  They went back to Lennie’s room.

  “Can we talk tomorrow?” Lennie said. “My head is splitting.”

  “You’re twenty-four years old. Don’t you know better than to go bareback?”

  “Please,” Lennie said.

  “We’ll start from the beginning. You tell me everything right from the beginning.”

  “What’s the use, Duddy? Nothing can be done.”

  “That night you came home drunk. When you said, ‘It could ruin me for life.’ That’s when you first found out she was pregnant, isn’t it?”

  Lennie didn’t reply.

  “Come on, Lennie, please. I want to help.”

  Lennie told him about the party where he had quarreled with Riva. “She’s no better than a whore,” he said. “You should have been there. Boy, did I ever tell her off.”

  “I heard.”

  He had run into Irwin Shubert a few days later and they had had a long intimate chat. Irwin, he said, was one of the most intelligent people he had ever met, and he had no use for the Hillel bunch either. “They inhabit a psychological ghetto,” he had said, “and dare not step outside of it because they’re afraid of being rejected.” He had offered to take Lennie to a party the next night and that’s where he met Sandra and Andy Simpson.

  “This is the man I’ve been telling you about,” Irwin had said.

  Sandra had smiled so warmly and Andy had clapped him on the back. “Good to have you with us, kid.”

  Andy’s father, Lennie pointed out, was J. P. Simpson. The P. Simpson.

  “Mazel tov,” said. “Did Irwin seem to be a good friend of his?”

  Irwin, it seemed, was very devoted to Andy. He was always fetching him drinks, he went down to watch him at hockey practices, and he was coaching him privately in English and history. Andy had to keep his marks up or he’d have to quit athletics. “Andy liked me,” Lennie said, “and so did Sandra. I could tell. I’m sensitive to that kind of thing and anyway Irwin took me aside once and as much as told me that Sandra had a crush on me. He was a bit drunk, you know, and he said he was glad he wasn’t Andy. Sandra was supposed to be Andy’s girl. Anyway there were lots of parties and after that I was invited to every single one of them. What a swell bunch of characters, honestly, so generous and relaxed and happy. When they have a party or go to a restaurant nobody worries about making too much noise or attracting attention, if you know what I mean. They’re just themselves and glad of it. Nothing scares them. They’re not always plugging away either, worried about this, worried about that, frightened about the future. They have a good time. They’re young. it. That’s what I’m trying to say. I never had such a wonderful time in my life. Honestly, Duddy. If there wasn’t a party I’d meet Irwin and Andy and we’d go and drink together in the Maritime Bar in the Ritz. Sometimes we’d pick up Sandra and a couple of other girls and we’d drive all the way out to Ste. Adele to eat. Just like that, Duddy. And Irwin knows so much about food, you know. He knows all the… em… exciting too. There were times, it’s true, when he and Sandra would bicker about this and that, but —”

  “Bicker about what?”

  “Oh, you know the kind of thing. Everyone’s had too much to drink and Sandra would say something like, I’m seeing Andy tomorrow night, do you mind? It was nothing really. The next day it would be forgotten.”

  “Yeah? Keep talking.”

  “They’re such a great crowd, Duddy. You must understand that. I never dreamt I’d have such a swell time. They knew I was Jewish too. I told them. Iwasn’t going to hide it. I’m glad I didn’t either because it didn’t make any difference. Nobody minded.”

  Then Lennie had noticed that Andy was in bad shape. He drank an awful lot. “Even for him,” Lennie said. Irwin took Lennie aside and explained why Andy was drinking so much and how Lennie could help.

  “You mean it wasn’t even you who knocked her up? Jeez, now I’ve heard everything.”

  “Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

  “A gentleman. Is that what you said you were? I’ve got news for you, brother. You’re the No. 1 Sucker of All Time.”

  “You would look at things like that. You have no code of honor, Duddy. That’s your trouble.”

  “Wha’?”

  “What’s in it for me, that’s your philosophy. I knew you’d never understand.”

  “Tell me the rest, please. Come on.”

  Irwin had told Lennie that Sandra was pregnant, that much was true, and he had asked Lennie if he would perform the abortion. Andrew, he said, knew nothing about their conversation, he would never ask such a favor of Lennie. “But I know you’re not a frightened little Hebe,” Irwin had said. “I know you’ll come through.”

  Lennie had said absolutely no. It was too big a risk, he couldn’t do it, and that’s the night he had come home drunk. “The way he looked at me,” Lennie said, “I knew I was through. I’d never see any of them again.”

  “So what,” Duddy said. “A big deal.”

  “And I was right,” Lennie continued, “because after that I began to see less and less of Sandra, Andy, and their crowd.” Irwin still drank with him from time to time. Lapsing into that liquid whisper of his, he’d say things like, “I hear there’s an Oneg Shabbat at Hillel tonight. Why don’t you go?” He told Lennie that he was right not to take the risk. Friendships only went so far, a man had his career to think of.

  “Then he’d be off to one of their parties,” Lennie said, “and I’d be left sitting there. It was terrible. I never felt so bad in my life. Listen, Duddy, those people were my friends. I never really had friends before. She’s so pretty, you know. All I could think of was her crying and Andy saying what can you expect, he’s a Jew and he’s afraid.”

  “Why couldn
’t she go to Dr. Westcott for the abortion?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Duddy.”

  “You want to know something? I know Irwin. I know that bastard inside out and I’ll put down a hundred bucks against your ten that before he ever brought you around he told Andy you’d do the abortion.”

  “There you go again. You suspect everybody. Nobody’s decent in your book. They like me, Duddy. They’re my friends.”

  “Don’t shout.”

  “You don’t like Irwin because he used psychology to show you up for a money-crazy kid at the hotel. I know all about that.”

  “I hope you didn’t take my side.”

  “You deserved what you got. You’re greedy. I’m saying that to your face.”

  “O.K. Skip it. Let’s get on with the story. The rest, please.”

  “I phoned Irwin and said I would do it and the arrangements were made. Why he got so jumpy right in the middle of it I’ll never know. I could have handled it, I swear it, but Irwin saw the blood and went crazy. Sandra got hysterical. ‘Irwin wants to kill me,’ she said over and over again. ‘He wants to kill me.’ And the next thing I knew Irwin had dashed out to call Dr. Westcott.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Lennie explained that the phone call had been made anonymously. The three boys had waited in the hall until Dr. Westcott had come and then they had slipped outside. Sandra had naturally refused to tell Br. Westcott who had started the abortion.

  “So what are you doing here?” Duddy asked. “What are you so scared of?”

  “He’s sure to find out eventually. And when he does it’s the end of me. I’ll be thrown out of medical school.”

  “You’re goddam right he’s sure to find out. Because from what I know about Irwin and from what I hear about this Andy bastard all he has to do is ask.”

  “They’d never say a word.”

  “Sure.” Duddy rose and cracked his knuckles. “It must be three o’clock,” he said. “How’s your headache?”

  “Right now it’s not so bad. Look, Duddy, I’m sorry. I know Daddy will feel terrible. But what can I do?”

  “Bernie Altman says you had an excellent chance of winning the medal.”

  “Lay off. Please, Duddy.”

  “Let’s go to sleep. I’ve got some business to do here tomorrow.” Duddy began to undress. “Look, I want you to think hard. I want you to think hard and tell me the truth. Do you still want to be a doctor?”