"Well, I should hope not," I said. "The world'd be in a heck of a mess if there was."
I said I'd see her the next night, just as soon as it was good and dark. She shivered against me, and said that would be fine.
"But do you have to go now, darling?"
"Well, I guess I kind of should," I said. "Myra'll be wonderin' what happened, and I got to see Miz Hauck home yet tonight."
Amy said, "Oh, I see. I'd almost forgotten about Rose."
"Yeah, I got to take her home," I said, kind of grumbling about it. "Myra has done promised her I would."
"Poor Nick!" Amy patted my cheek. "Everyone's always imposing on him."
"Aw, I don't really mind," I said. "After all, someone's got to take care of poor Miz Hauck."
"How true! And isn't it fortunate that she has someone so willing to take care of her! You know, Nick, poor ol' Mrs. Hauck seems to be bearing up remarkably well under her troubles. She looked positively blooming, like a woman in love, one might say."
"Is that a fact?" I said. "I can't say that I rightly noticed."
"Come in for a while, Nick. I want to talk to you."
"I guess we better let it wait until tomorrow night," I said. "It's kind of late, an'-"
"Now! Tonight, Nick."
"But Rose-I mean, Miz Hauck-will be waiting. I-',
"Let her. I'm afraid it's not the only disappointment she's in for. Now, come in!"
She flung the door open and went in, and I went in after her. Her hand gripped mine in the darkness, and she led me back through the house to her bedroom. And it was a funny thing, her saying she wanted to talk to me, because she didn't do no talking at all.
Or hardly any.
Afterwards, she lay back and yawned and stretched; kind of fidgeting because I never could see good in the dark, and I was slow in getting my clothes on.
"Will you please hurry a little, darling? I feel all nice and relaxed and drowsy, and I want to get to bed."
"Well, you sure ain't got far to get," I said. "What was it you was wantin' to talk to me about, anyways?"
"About your grammar, possibly. You're no ignoramus, Nick. Why do you talk like one?"
"Just habit, I guess. Kind of a rut I've got into. English and grammar, I reckon, they're like a lot of things. A fella don't use 'em-he don't see no real demand for 'em-and pretty soon he loses the knack. Wrong is right for him, an' vicey versa you might say."
Amy's head shifted on the pillows, her eyes wide in her white face as she studied me.
"I think I know what you mean, Nick," she said. "In a way, I'm a victim of the same process."
"Yeah?" I said, pulling on my boots. "How you mean, Amy?"
"Or I'm beginning to be a victim," she said. "And, you know, darling, I rather like it."
I stood up, tucking in my shirttails. "Just what was you wantin' to say to me, Amy?"
"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow night. In fact, I no longer think I'll have anything to say then."
"But you said-"
"And I said some other things, too, darling. Possibly you weren't listening. Now, you run along now, and I do hope pore ol' Miz Hauck ain't too disappointed."
"Yeah," I said. "I sure hope she ain't either."
But I had an idea she was going to be.
12
The way I'd met Myra was at the state fair a few years ago. I was all dressed up like I always am when I go someplace, and even a god-danged fool could see I was doing plenty all right. Anyway, I reckon Myra seen it. And she didn't look so bad herself then; she'd gone to some pains to pretty herself up. And I didn't fight too hard when she latched herself onto me.
It was at this place where you throw balls at a colored fella's head, and if you hit him you won a prize. I was just doin' it because the fella that ran the place kept asking me to. It had seemed unobliging not to, but I sure didn't want to hit this colored man and I didn't. But I heard someone clapping her hands, and here was Myra, carrying on like I was the world's greatest pitcher.
"Oooh, I just don't see how you do it!" she said, simpering up at me. "Would you throw some balls for me, please, if I give you the money?"
"Well, I'd kind of rather not, ma'am," I said. "If you don't mind excusin' me, I was just quitting myself."
"Oh," she said, kind of letting her face sag, which didn't require much of an effort if you know what I mean. "I understand. Your wife is with you."
"Naw, that ain't it," I said. "I ain't married, ma'am; I just don't want to throw at that colored fella, because it don't seem right somehow. It ain't rightly decent, you might say."
"You're just saying that," she pouted and simpered. "It's your way of rebuking me for being forward."
I said, naw, that wasn't it at all; I really felt like I said I did. "I guess it's his job to get throwed at, but it ain't mine to do the throwin'," I said. "Anyways, a fella'd be better off without a job than one like this. If he's got to get hit to live, he ain't got nothing worth living for."
Myra put on a solemn face, and said she could see I was a really deep thinker. I said, well, I didn't know about that, but I was sure a thirsty one.
"Maybe! could offer you a lemonade, ma'am, seem' as how I can't favor you by throwing balls."
"Well… "She twisted and twitched and twittered. "You won't think I'm terribly forward if I say yes?"
"Why, you just said it, ma'am," I said, leading her toward the pink lemonade stand. "You just said yes, and I don't think nothing like that at all."
And sure enough I didn't.
What I was thinking was that she must have buggers in her bloomers or a chigger on her figger, or however you say it. It looked to me like something had better be done about it pretty quick, or her pants would start blazing and maybe they'd set the fairgrounds on fire and there'd be a panic with thousands of people getting stomped to death, not to mention the property damage. And I couldn't think of but one way to prevent it.
Well, though, I didn't want to rush into things. There just wasn't any need to rush, as far as I was concerned, because I was getting married to Amy the next week and she'd taken good care to provide for me until then. So I stalled around, trying to decide whether I really ought to do the only thing I could think of to do. You might say it really wasn't my problem if Myra did set the fairgrounds on fire, with thousands of innocent women and children getting killed. Because! was from out of town, and I'm a great believer in local rights-you know, like State rights- and Myra lived here in the city. Could be I might get into all kinds of trouble by interfering in a local problem, even if it was something that even a goddanged fool would be familiar with, and the local folks weren't doing nothing about it.
I took Myra to a few side shows, standing close to her while I tried to make up my mind. I took her on the merry-go-round and some other rides, helping her on and off and looking at her when her dress slid up, and so on and so forth. And god-dang if it wasn't long before I came to my decision.
Myra looked shocked when I whispered to her, almost as shocked as if I'd bought her a sack of popcorn.