Page 53 of Maggie Now

and it would be like having my own babies. And 1'.l have

  the brother I love with me. And Tessie! I co7lid teach her

  how to sew.... And Annie would c0777e over often,, and . .

  . Oh, it Ivould be just too wonderf7l1.

  She said: "No, Denny! I'm not going to let you do it."

  "What? "

  "Don't Ibe such a damned fool!" It was the first time

  he'd ever heard his sister use a curse word. "Now look

  here! Annie can take care of herself. She's got Albie for

  the time being. And I'm around if Annie has trouble."

  "But what about you. "

  "I'll manage. I've always managed. The rooms will be

  rented again. I'll find something to do. Maybe I'll rent out

  the whole house or close it up and go to Atlantic City or

  somewhere to find work. I've never been outside of

  Brooklyn except twice

  1 43'1

 

  when I went to Boston with lilama and when I wetlt tic

  Manhattan with a boy many years ago. Maybe I'd like to

  see other places."

  "You mean you don't want us?" he said, aghast.

  "Yes, I do want you and your family. But it's not good

  for me to want that. And it's not good for you to give it."

  "But Jessie wants . . .'

  "Tessie's a wonderful girl. And she's a smart girl, too.

  She has one beautiful fault, though. The fault of being

  very young. Don't ask her what she wants, tell her what

  you want. Tell her how wonderful she i`; how lucky you

  are to have her. Tell her you couldn't live without her,

  and then tell her that you are all going to move out to tile

  new place because it is the best thin;, for all of you. Hind

  move out there right away."

  Denny got up, put his hands in his pockets, grinned and

  started to swagger around the room. Then he went to

  Maggie-Now and gave her a big hug.

  "If Tessie makes a fuss, tell her I'm tired of looking

  after people. I want to live m,N own life for a while. And

  tell her if she gets out of her mothers way, maybe Mr.

  Van Clees might have a chance with Annie."

  After Denny had left, 1~] aggie-Now sat in the kitchen

  and wept. What am I going to do? she asked herself. What

  am I going to do alone here?

  She sat by the front wmdow. Maybe I can make believe,

  she thought, that he left the way he always did in the spring.

  And that he'll come back in the fall like always. How I cried,

  those first years when he left! I'd pra v f or the time when

  he'd never go away again; when he'd be with me always. But

  would it have been the same? The man 1 loved was a mall

  who left me each spring to come back in the winter to make

  me feel like a bride again. That was the man I loved. If he

  had stayed with me always, would he have been the same

  man?

  She thought over again the things Claude had told her

  about his wanderings and his search. What was it he had

  said about the rightness of being a father once he knew?

  And when he had come home this last time, he had

  known! He had known!

  14~7 1

 

  A small ecstasy started to grow. But it faded when she

  remembered how he had said: "If we were younger . . ."

  And yet . . . And yet! The small ecstasy wouldn't die.

  She prayed:

  Holy Mary, Mother IF God, I beseech thee to let me hope

  . . . let me hope a little while . . .

  The clock in the kitchen sounded seven times. The bird

  in the cage ran a trill. The little Siamese cat jumped off

  the lounge and made no noise when he landed on the

  floor. He walked out to the kitchen on silent, velvet feet.

  Maggie-Now knew he would jump up on the kitchen table

  and sit there and lash his tail and fix his sleepy, baleful

  eyes on the caged canary. She smiled.

  Seven o'clock, she thought, and there's still some light in

  the sky. The days are getting longer and soon spring grill

  come again.

  ~ CHAPTER SIXTY-FT VE A

  PAT and Mick Mack had just finished the ample breakfast

  served to them by the neat and taut widow

  "Man dear," she said lo Pat, "it's a wonderful day for

  beating the carpets Just wonderful!" She handed Pat two

  rattan carpet beaters. "And I'm sure Mr. Mack will be

  delighted to help you."

  Mick Mack carried the carpet out into the yard. Pat

  followed, carrying the carpet bearers. "Get the damn dusty

  thing up on the washline," instructed Pat. Mick black

  started to struggle with the carpet. There was a soft wind

  blowing.

  "Hey, IIick Mack!"

  "And what is it, Pathrick?"

  "You feel that wind? A kin-nooky . . . what did the

  bastid call it? Oh, yeah! Chinook!"

  "So long," said Mick lack.

  "Where you going?"

  "I just said that means 'so long' in Eskimo. Did you not,

  yourself, tell me so?"

  L 434

  "To hell -with the carpet. This is the day. Come on."

  They went back into the house. "Listen, O'Crawley," said

  Par to his wife, "we can't beat your carpet today."

  "And why not, man, dear?"

  "Because I got to bury me son-in-law."

  "But he's been dead three weeks now."

  "It's time he was buried then." He grinned in delight

  when he saw his wife's shocked expression.

  "Perhaps Mr. Mack will do the carpet while you're gone?"

  "He's got to go with me. I got to have a witness."

  Pat carried the urn holding the ashes in a paper bag,.

  They beat their way by trolley and subway over to

  Manhattan.

  "Where you going to bury him?" asked Mick Mack.

  "Off-a some high place where there is wind and birds."

  "Off-a the Woolworth Building?"

  "You damn fool!" said Pat coldly.

  They got on the little boat that would take them to

  Bedloe's Island. Pat was astonished that they had to pay

  for the boat ride. "You pay," he instructed Mick Mack. "I

  left me money in me other suit."

  Mick Mack knew that Pat didn't have another suit, but

  he paid all the same.

  "You going to bury him f tom of T-a the boat? " asked

  Mick Mack.

  "No. From the top of tide Stature of Liberty. We're

  going to go up in the torch and do it."

  "But I'm afraid of heighths," said Mick Mack.

  "A fine time to wait and tell me."

  "But you didn't tell me we was going here."

  "Why do you always have to argue?" asked Pat.

  The elevator took them as far as the pedestal, then they

  had to climb the winding stairway. Mick Mack started to

  lag behind. Pat looked back. The little man was pale and

  his hand was pressed to his heart. He seemed to have

  trouble getting his breath.

  Pat felt a stab of pity. I never saw before how old he's

  getting, thought Pat. And he don't look so strong, either. He

  went back to Mick Mack.

  "Me old friend," he said, " 'tis shamed I am, making you

  climb up here and you with no stren'th a-tall. Do you let

/>   me put me arm around you and I will help you up."

  ~ 4] ~ J

 

  To Pat's surprise, he saw that Mick Mack was crying. "Is

  it a bad pain you have, me friend?" he asked tenderly.

  "No. It's because of the soft way you spoke to me; the

  kindness of your words. It puts a strangeness on you. I

  don't know you no more, you black-hearted stranger."

  Pat lost his temper. "That's what a man gets trying to

  be decent to the likes of you. Here! Carry this, you

  damned fool!" He thrust the urn into Mick Mack's hands.

  "Making me do all the work, Come on, now! And let me

  hear no more complaining out of you."

  The little man looked up at Pat and beamed.

  In those days, people were allowed to go up into the

  torch. Pat and Hick Mack slowly made their tortuous way

  up through the arm. The torch could hold twelve people

  but Pat and Mick Mack were the only persons there at the

  time.

  The wind was terrific. They had to hold on to their hats

  and the wind tore the paper bag off the urn.

  "Give me that," yelled Pat angrily against the wind,

  "before you drop it." Mick Mack gave him the urn.

  Hundreds of gulls flew around the head of Miss Liberty,

  and wheeled and banked and swooped and screamed.

  "Look at all them pigeons!" said Mick Mack.

  "They ain't pigeons," hollered Pat.

  "What are they then? " screamed back the little fellow.

  "Whatever they are, they ain't pigeons! Take your hat off!"

  "What? "

  "Take your hat off! And hold mine." The wind made the

  hair stand up on their bared heads.

  Pat lowered his head ;md spoke silently to the urn.

  Mick Mack thought he was saying a private prayer for the

  dead. Mick Mack lowered his eyes and said his own

  prayer. Pat wasn't praying, he was telling his daughter's

  husband good-by.

  You wanted to be buried off a high place, Claude, and this

  is the highest I can get. And you wanted to go out over the

  sea. Well, here's the whole ocean. And there is birds

  here the kind you like. And may God rest your soul.

  He removed the cover from the urn. Before he could

  scatter the ashes, the wind scooped most of them out of

  the urn. Pat had an instant of terror. The gulls, the

  screams, the wind and the

  ~ 436 ~

 

  infinity of sky and sea, and he was such a tiny dot.

  There is things I don't ,'~no~v, he thought, and God

  forgive me all me sins.

  Mick Mack vvas screaming. "Say something! " he

  screamed. "For the love of God say something! Don't let

  him go without a word! Say something!''

  "What? " hollered Pat.

  "Good-by! Good-by! " shouted llick Slack. He w aved

  the hand that held Pat's hat. The wind caught Pat's hat

  and blew it out to sea.

  It was more than Pat could stand. He took the urn,

  which still held some ol the ashes, anal with all his

  strength he hurled it into the wind. He shook his fist at

  the slay and the sea and the wind and the gulls.

  "I'll bury youse all!" sh ~utcd Patrick Dennis Moore.

  t4''1

 

 


 

  Betty Smith, Maggie Now

  (Series: # )

 

 


 

 
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