Maggie Now

Mark was on the floor quietly playing with some of

  Denny's discarded blocks.

  "I'll fix your breakfast," called Maggie-Now from the

  babies' room, "as soon as I finish making up the cribs." He

  didn't answer her.

  Claude walked around the room restlessly. The baby's

  eyes followed hirn. Claude walked diagonally, the eyes

  followed him. He walked behind the high chair and,

  awkwardly, the child turned its head and body to keep him

  in sight. He came around to face the child. The child

  looked up at him, still clutching the rattle. He didn't play

  with the rattle or make it jingle, he just clutched it.

  Claude looked down at the child and thought: Spaum.

  As he thought the word, he had a curious feeling of

  tenderness toward the baby.

  He looked down at Mark. "What are you building?" The

  child didn't look up. The child didn't answer. "A house?"

  No response from the child. Claude clapped his hands

  loudly. The baby dropped the rattle on the high-chair tray

  but Mark neither looked up nor started. He picked up

  another block. Claude had an instant of fear. He went in

  to Maggie-Now.

  "Is that boy dumb?" he asked. "Deaf and dumb?''

  "Oh, he can talk when he wants to," she said. "You

  heard him call me Mama last night.' Claude was disgusted

  at the feeling of relief he felt.

  She heard a clock strike ten. She dropped her work and went

  L3s7]

  into her bedroom. When he followed her in there, he saw

  that she had put a quarter on the dressing table and was

  pinning the gold piece back into his coat.

  He crushed her in his arms. "No, no, no," he kept

  saying. "No, I'm not going away. I just got home."

  "But you said . . ."

  "Why must you take everything so literally?" he asked

  desperately. "I was shocked; angry. I said a lot of

  things...."

  "But you told me . . . '

  "Hush, now. Hush! I always wanted a family. You know

  that. You gave me a father and a brother. And now, my

  sweet love, you throw in a couple of sons that I don't

  deserve."

  She broke down and cried.

  "Listen! Listen now! Listen, Margaret! Listen,

  Maggie-Now!" He got her quieted down finally. "Listen,

  Margaret, what do you want more than anything else in

  the world? Aside from me and children? "

  "A furnace?" she said tentatively.

  He had to laugh at that. She told him the nurse had

  said a furnace was needed with the children in the house.

  "Your husband will get you a furnace," he said gallantly.

  "Where are my old clothes? I'm going to get a regular

  job; a hard-working job with good pay."

  True to his word, he got a job which paid seventy-five

  dollars a week. This seemed like fabulous pay to

  Maggie-Now. He didn't tell her what he worked at but

  she noted his broken fingernails and, after he combed his

  hair, she saw little grains in the teeth of the comb.

  IiTarble dust? Grains of cement? Flakes of plaster?

  She gave him a dollar a day expense money and used

  some of his salary for food and household necessities. At

  the end of a month, there vitas one hundred and eighty

  dollars left of the three hundred he'd earned. Claude

  decided that was enough to start the furnace on.

  A man came and gave an estimate. A hot-air furnace

  with registers would be cheaper than steam heat and

  radiators. Three hundred was his price: half down now

  and the balance after the heating had been installed. The

  deal was made; the hundred and fifty dollars paid. Then

  terribly cold weather set in and it was agreed that it was

  a ball time to tear up the house to install the

  ~ USE 1

 

  furnace. It was put off until the spring.

  After the deal with the furnace man, Claude, no doubt

  feeling that he had accomplished his mission, stopped

  working. He took up his old place at the window and

  waited. One day that wind came and she pinned the gold

  piece in his pocket and gave him the quarter for cigarettes

  and the paper. He didn't come back.

  Well, she was used to Claude's leaving by now. And she

  would have to get used to Mark's leaving. She counted the

  months, the weeks, the days until he'd be taken from her.

  I Rust expect it, she told herself. I know it mast come. She

  did her best to prepare herself for the time.

  They put the furnace in. She didn't have the money to

  pay the balance. She pried twenty-five dollars out of her

  father on the grounds that he had no: paid for Denny's

  keep while he, Pat, was at the widow's. She paid off the

  rest, five dollars a month. She was able to get five dollars

  more per month rent for the upstairs. That paid for some

  of the coal. Her taxes on the house were raised a little on

  account of "improvements."

  ~ CHAPTI,R FIFTY-ONE ~

  THE pattern of Maggie-Now's life seemed set now. She

  took Mark back to the home when he was six and, in spite

  of Mother

  incent de Paul's orders, Maggie-Now wept and Mark

  wept and clung to her. They gave her another baby. He

  was six months old and his name was Anthony. She

  counted up the years and months, days and weeks. She'd

  have Johnny three years more, and Anthony five and a

  half years. That was a long, long time, she thought. She

  was content

  Claude came home each winter with his gift and with

  meat or fowl. Sometimes he brought a little money. Pat

  went to the widow's each winter but one, and sent for the

  priest each night before, save one. Father Flynn was in the

  hospital having a kidney stone removed at the time.

  Another priest served the parish temporarily. Pat didn't

  want this other priest. He was afraid he'd give him

  Extreme Unction.

  1 Is]

 

  One winter he didn't go to l~lrs. O'Crav. fey's because

  she closed up her boardinghouse lor a few months while

  she took a vacation in Floricla. Pat worried. There were

  men down there. They'd know she had means, else how

  could she afford a Florida vacation? fIe was afraid

  someone would marry her for her property.

  When she came back after Christmas, unmarried, Pat

  was so relieved that he bought her a five-dollar vanity

  case as a present. She gave him a present in return a

  knotty shillelagh, a treasure that had belonged to her first

  husband. He was proud of it, Pat was, and carried it with

  him whenever he went out, wishing he could get into an

  argument and make use of it.

  Annie's Jamesie, now grown up, got a fine job in a

  well-known men's haberdashery store downtown on

  Fulton Street. He earned thirty-five a week to start and he

  gave his mother all of it save five dollars a week for his

  expenses. Annie was able to give up her sandwich-making

  job at last.

  "They put him in front where peo
ple see him to sell ties."

  "That's because he m: kes such a good appearance," said

  llaggieNow.

  "Such a good boy," said Annie. "But already he goes

  with a girl. Shirley."

  "Serious?" asked Maggie-Now.

  Annie nodded. "In two years, they get married." She

  sighed. "But that must be. The c hildren go away from you

  when they get big. But for two years we will live without

  worry."

  Maggie-Now worried about Lottie. Gracie and Widdy

  came to see her one Sunday afternoon. "Widdy's mother's

  not'right,"' said Gracie. "And Widciy and I don't think she

  should live alone. It would be better if she went to some

  old ladies' home where she could be with her

  contemporaries. She could turn over her pension to the

  home and get spa cial privileges. Some of those homes are

  real nice."

  "But you see, Maggie, Mother won't go," said Widdy,

  "and eve thought since she likes you so much and depends

  on you, in a way, that you could talk her into it."

  "I'll do no such thing, ' said Maggie-Now angrily. "And

  shame on you, Widdy, and you too, Gracie, putting your

  mother in an old ladies' home. Don't you tell me she'd be

  better off with her con . . . con . . . with people her own

  age. Let her have her

  1 .,fsO 1

 

  home where she was so happy with her Timmy where

  everything reminds her of him so much that it's like he

  was still there."

  "But, Maggie," said Gracie gently, "we worry about her.

  She might get sick and die there alone. And it's not fair,

  Maggie, that we should worry. We have our own children

  and . . ."

  "Worry then," said Maggie-Nov bitterly. "It will do you

  good to worry about somebody else for a change. When

  I think of how your mother took the twins off your hands

  when Widdy was in the war and you were gadding around

  . . ."

  She got them to promise that one or the other would

  drop in on Lottie once each day. Maggie-Now, herself,

  went to see Lottie twice a week if she could talk Pat into

  staying with the babies for a few hours.

  On one visit, Lottie seemed distraught. "Timmy was

  looking all night for that china dog with the nursing

  puppies and he couldn't find it. Somebodv must have

  stolen it," she said.

  On her next visit, Maggie-Now surreptitiously slipped

  the china dog back on the mantelpiece.

  Van Clees wasn't doing so well. After the war, the men

  came back with a taste for cigarettes. Then the big

  tobacco trusts had their chain stores and could undersell

  the small tobacconists.

  "And give coupons in the bargain for stuff," said Van

  Clees. "Once I work all day every day so many people

  smoke my Havanas, handmade. But now," he shrugged,

  "two hours a week I can make all I can sell. I do not

  worry. My property is all mine and I save my money many

  years but is not good for me not to work every day."

  He complained about the great changes in the

  neighborhood. The poor Jewish families who lived in the

  ghettos of Siegel. Moore and MacKibbon Streets were

  moving out and even poorer Negro families were taking

  their place.

  "The colored people," said Van Clees, "is got right to

  live same as us. Only is bad for real estate. The landlords

  they don't make repairs for the colored people and the

  houses fall down and my property ain't worth so much."

  But on the bright side, Maggie-Now told him, look at

  that beautiful housing development. And indeed it was

  beautiful. People had sun and air and lived uncrowded

  and the rents were low. Of course, she had felt bad when

  the slum-clearance project

  [56~ ]

 

  razed the Moriarity house where her mother had been

  born.

  "Sonny's place is gone, too. But oh, he got good money

  for it, Miss Maggie. You see how he has that new store,

  in gold on the window: Ahead and Parker, Plumbing and

  Heating, Day and Night? Is good."

  Yes, the elder Pheid had died and Sonny got the

  business and took in his sister's husband, Cholly, as

  partner. Ilaggie-Now smiled, remembering Cholly. Gina'd

  had another baby, a girl named Bertha after her mother.

  Only Cholly called her Birdie. That Cholly! thought

  Maggie-Now.

  "And Denny?" asked Van Clees.

  "He graduated from public school. You heard' Diploma

  and all."

  "Yes, also Annie's Jessie. Such a nice girl."

  "Awfully nice," agreed liaggie-Nov. "You know, when

  Denny graduated, he thought he was through with school

  for life. Was he mad when 5 told him he'd have to go

  until he was sixteen."

  "Is the law," agreed Van Clees.

  "He's working this summer."

  "No!''

  "Errand boy for the druggist. He wants to make money

  to buy a long-pants suit for high school."

  "Too big for the birthday candles, is he now," sighed

  Van Clees. "My Tessie, too. Time goes, Miss Maggie."

  "Yes," said Maggie-Now. She sighed too.

  ~ CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO ~

  DENNY was nearly sixteen when he finished second year

  high. He left Eastern District High without a backward

  glance and with no tender memories. He was glad to be

  done with school.

  He went to work. He got a job with the druggist for

  whom he had worked the last two summers. He washed

  out citrate of magnesia bottles that had been returned for

  the nickel deposit, filled them from the formula in the big

  gallon jugs, and delivered

  [ 362 1

 

  prescriptions, stocked the shelves with patent medicines,

  swept out and did various other odd jobs.

  He came home the first Saturday night and his father

  said: "Hand over your pay."

  The boy gave him twelve one-dollar bills. Pat gave the

  boy two dollars back and handed the ten dollars to

  Maggie-Now.

  "Is that all I get?" asked Denny. "After all, I worked like

  a dog all week and . . ."

  "That's all," said Pat. "And it's too much, if you ask me."

  "What's the use of working, then?" asked Denny. Before

  his father could answer, he w ent out, slamming the door

  hard.

  That job lasted three NN eeks. He came home and told

  MaggieNow: "I threw up my job."

  "Why, Denny? Oh, why?"

  "I figured what was I working for? Peanuts? TNYO

  dollars' spending money!" he said contemptuously.

  "But, Denny, when you're eighteen, you'll get half your

  salary back. And when you're twenty-one, you can keep it

  all."

  "I'll wait," he said.

  "But, Denny, you hay' to Nvryrk."

  "Give me one good reason."

  "Everybody has to work: to buy food and clothes and

  pay rent."

  "Papa doesn't work."

  "For thirty years, your
father worked steady. NONNT he

  has a pension. He still provides money for us."

  "Claude doesn't work. Not that I have anything against

  Claude," he added quickly.

  "When Claude isn't here, he pays his own way, wherever

  he is. When he comes home, he brings money . . .

  sometimes. And he always works a while when he first

  comes home."

  "But he doesn't plunk down a salary on the table every

  Saturday night of the year, does he?"

  "What Claude gives me," she said, "is worth much more

  than a man's steady salary. He gives me a whole world . .

  . oh, Denny, sometime when you're a man and are going

  to be married, I'll tell you all about it."

  "I want to say it again," said Denny. "I've got nothing

  against Claude. I like Claude."

  1 3h3

 

  "Why, Denny?" she asked quietly.

  "Because. Well, because he makes me feel like somebody

  . . . like somebody important. Other people make me feel

  like a worm."

  Maggie-Now smiled tenderly. Back down the years she

  heard herself saying . . . because you make me feel like a

  princess.

  After a while Denny got a job in ManhaKan: messenger

  boy in a brokerage office. He earned twenty dollars a

  week and Maggie-Now gave him five out of it. He seemed

  satisfied. He loved working in the big city and wished he

  could live there. He seemed to like his job.

  He had been working there a couple of months when he

  found out that the other messenger in the firm was getting

  twenty-five a week. I le went to his boss and asked for a

  raise.

  "I'll see," said Mr. Barnsen.

  Denny waited three days. Then he went back to the boss

  and asked, a little flippantly, "Did you see yet, Mr.

  Barnsen?"

  Now Mr. Barnsen had just about decided to give Denny

  a twodo]lar raise. But he changed his mind. He didn't like

  the boy's attitude.

  "Yes, I saw," said Mr. Barnsen. "And I saw that I don't

  like your attitude."

  "What else did you see?" sneered Denny.

  "I saw that the firm could very well get along without you."

  "You mean I'm fired?~'

  "We like to say 'dismissed,'' said his ex-boss.

  "Why? Why?" asked Maggie-Now when Denny told her.

  "He said he didn't like my attitude whatever that is,"

  replied Denny.

  Pat got Denny his next job. Pat had seen a card in the

  window of Pheid and Parker, Plumbing and Heating, Day

  and Night. Pat took his son there. Sonny wasn't there, but

  Cholly hired Denny. When Maggie-Now found out about

  Denny's new job, she was a bit embarrassed. She didn't

  want Sonny to think she was presuming on their brief

  friendship of many years ago.

  Denny answered the phone and sold washers and

  plungers and uncrated new stock that came in and swept

  out and made him

  [~4 1

 

  self generally useful. He got on fine with Cholly. Cholly

  liked him and he liked Cholly.

  "I like the way he kids around," Denny told Maggie-Now.

  "Everyone likes Cholly." she said. "Everyone thinks he's

  the life of the party."

  But Sonny didn't like Denny. Was it because the boy

  was a daily reminder of Maggic-Nov and how she had

  turned him, Sonny, down when he wanted to marry her?

  Did he think of his little time with her with tenderness?

  Or anger? Or embarrassment? Denny knew Sonny didn t

  like him and he reciprocated. When Sonny gave him an

  order, Denny pretended he didn't understand. When he

  obeyed the order, he did so laggardly.

  Cholly came and told Maggie-Now. "We had to let him

  go, Maggie. I got along fine ~ ith him. When I asked him

  to do something, he was anxious to do it good. But when

  Sonny asked him . . . well, Denny got everything all

  bollixed up. On purpose, it seemed. I guess they just

  rubbed each other the wrong way."

  "I'm sorry, Cholly."

  "Oh, the boy's all right. You just got to understand him.

  No hard feelings, Maggie?"

  "No hard feelings."