"Well, no, no," he said hastily, "you don't. But a hundred dollars, God, I..."
"I didn't say a hundred. I said higher."
"I haven't even got twenty," he said despondently. "You see, I was in a poker game and..."
"Well, there are other girls," she said curtly. "Goodbye."
She turned on her heel and began walking up the street. Jeff watched her and then, galvanized into sudden action, he yelled, "Hey! Wait!" and ran after her.
"What is it?" she said.
"Listen, can't we talk this over?"
"Why?"
"Well, I ... I think you're pretty."
"Thank you."
"I mean it. I'm not just saying it so you'll..." He paused. "I mean it."
"Why don't you go home, sailor?" she said kindly, her face suddenly turning so tender that he wanted to kiss her right then and there in the street, even though you weren't supposed to kiss girls like this, still he wanted
"Home?" he said. "Hell, I live in Colorado. Listen, can't we talk this over?"
"Sailor"
"Jeff."
"Jeff, all right, Jeff, I'm not what you think. I'm not what the fellow sent you uptown for."
"Huh?"
"I cook for La Gallina and some of the other bars. They have steam tables. I prepare the food for them."
"You pre oh." He paused. "So you were in there..."
"Getting things ready for when they open," the girl said, nodding.
"Oh." He paused again. "And all that business about price..."
"I was fooling you."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry."
"That's all right. I'm sorry I fooled you."
"Oh, that's all right." He studied her soberly. "You're still very pretty."
"Thank you."
"Do you ... do you have to run off?"
"I have to get dressed. I'm going to church."
"I'll go with you," he said quickly.
"Are you Catholic?"
"Presbyterian. I'll go with you anyway. I've gone to all kinds of religious services in the Navy. I'm something of an expert. You see, I do it to get out of work parties. Whenever I'm on a work party and they announce like, 'All people of the Jewish faith, prepare to leave the ship for religious services,' I all of a sudden become a person of the Jewish faith. I'm just sorry there aren't less work parties and more religions."
The girl shook her head. "I would feel funny."
"Are you religious? Is that it?"
"I suppose so. Yes."
"Well, I mean, the church won't fall down or anything if I walk into it. Believe me. I've been inside Catholic churches before. It's a nice service." He nodded, thinking over the various services he had been to.
"I would still feel funny," the girl said. She looked at him in indecision, and then made a slight movement of departure.
"Look," he said. "Look ... don't run off."
"Why not?"
"I don't know."
"You'll be busy," she said. "La Gallina opens at noon."
"Well, that ... you know, it's not that important."
"Isn't it?"
"No, it isn't," he said firmly. "Look, won't you ... won't you stay with me?"
The girl looked at her watch. "I have to go," she said. "I want to catch the eleven o'clock Mass."
"Will you meet me after church?"
"Why should I?"
"I want you to. Don't you want to?"
The girl hesitated. Then she said, "Yes, I do."
"Then why don't you?"
"Are you on a ship?"
"Yes. Look, will you..."
"What kind?"
"A destroyer."
"Is it big?"
"Pretty big. Will you meet me?"
"Why do you want to meet me? Haven't you got a girl back home?"
"I used to, but not any more. Have ... have you got a ... a boy?"
"No."
"Good. That's good." He smiled.
"Yes," she said, and she returned the smile.
"Will you ... will you meet me?"
"If I do ... would we go someplace outside the neighborhood?"
"If you like."
"Where will we go?"
"I don't know. I don't know this city too well."
"But we will leave the neighborhood?"
"Yes. You see, if we were back in Colorado, I'd take you up in the mountains. We'd pack a picnic basket and go up in the mountains. I'd drive you in my car. I've got a '37 Ford."
"What color is it?"
"Yellow. I painted it myself."
"I knew it was yellow," she said.
"Did you? How'd you know?"
"Yellow or red. Those are the two colors I thought."
"Hey, you know I was going to paint it red but Jenken's that's the hardware store back home was all out. So I took yellow."
"Do you live in a very small town?"
"Fletcher? Well, it's not so small, you understand."
"Do you have apartment buildings?"
"Oh, no."
"Why did you leave home?"
"I wanted to see the world," he said glibly, and then he knew immediately that glibness was not for this girl. With this girl you played it straight or you didn't play it at all. "I was going to get drafted," he said, "so I figured I'd rather be in the Navy. So I enlisted." He shrugged.
"And the world? Have you seen it?"
"A little of it."
"Have you been to Puerto Rico?"
"No. Have you?"
"No. It's supposed to be beautiful there. I was born here. I've never been outside this city." She paused. "Oh, yes, I once went to a wedding in Pennsylvania."
"You'd like my town," he said. "You really would."
"Yes, I know I would."
They fell silent. She stared up at him, and he felt terribly unsure of himself all at once, unsure and far younger than he actually was. In a very small voice, he said, "Meet me after church. Please."
"If I met you, we could go to the park," she said. "There are no mountains, but we could take a picnic basket. There are trees there."
"Any place you say. Only ... you know ... I've only got about eighteen bucks. We can go as far as that'll take us." He grinned tentatively. "Okay?"
The girl nodded. "Okay."
"Gee, that's You'll meet me?"
"Yes."
"Look, I'll ... I'll meet you right here. Right on this spot. I won't budge from this spot until you come back."
"No, not here. When La Gallina opens, the girls'll congregate here, on the sidewalk. Not here."
"The luncheonette then, okay? On the corner."
"Luis? All right, fine." . "What time?"
"Mass'11 be over at about a quarter to twelve. I'll make the lunch now and"
"Hey, you don't have to"
"I want to."
"Well ... okay."
"And I'll stop home for it before I come. Twelve o'clock? Would that be all right?"
"Fine. Hey, listen, I'm sorry I mistook you for..."
"That's all right. Twelve?"
"Twelve," he said.
"All right." She stared at him for a moment and then said, "Wait for me."
"Yes, I will."
She turned and began walking up the street, walking quickly, not looking back, almost as if she knew his eyes were on her, almost as if she were waiting for him to call after her. When he did call, she whirled immediately.
"Hey!"
"Yes?"
"Hurry! Please hurry, would you?"
"Yes," she said. She gave a small wave, turned, and began walking again.
"Hey!" he called.
"Yes?"
"I don't even know your name!"
"What?"
"Your name," he shouted. "What's your name?"
"Oh," the girl said, and she giggled.
"Well, what is it?"
"China!" she called back, and then she ran up the street.
7
Heat is a strange thing.
Like love, it can drive men to opposite extremes. Like love, it can be a persistently nagging thing, relentless, unwilling to budge, until one day it explodes in wild passion. "I hit him with the hatchet because it was hot." That is an explanation, a reason, and an excuse. It was hot. Everything is contained in those three words. It was hot, and so I was not responsible for my actions, I only knew that it was hot, that I was suffocating all day long, that I could hardly breathe, there was no air, it was hot, and he said to me, "This coffee is too strong," and so I hit him with the hatchet. It was hot, you see.