The cold, cracked crab, the pompano, were new to her, and they required an eating technique she didn’t know. She did everything a little behind Doc, and he wasn’t conscious that she watched every move he made.
When champagne and fruit and cheese arrived, Suzy knew she had to be alone. A thought so overwhelming had come to her that her knees shook and the blood pounded in her temples. Slow! she warned herself. Take it easy. She looked at the leaping flames and then pivoted her head to Doc. “Will you excuse…?”
“Of course!” He jumped up and drew back her chair. Suzy moved regally toward the Ladies’ Room. She could not feel her feet against the floor.
Doc watched her passage. Strange, strange, he thought. What is it? “Maidenly” is the word. A kind of lonely and terrible modesty. What has made the change? Then he thought, It’s an act. Fauna coached her. But he knew that wasn’t true. Acting couldn’t get into the eyes like that. Coaching couldn’t draw the blood to her cheeks. He spun the champagne bottle in its bucket, and he found himself wishing she would hurry back. His eyes found a window that reflected the door to the Ladies’ Room.
Behind that door Suzy dampened a paper towel and put it against her forehead. She stared at herself in the mirror and she didn’t know the face. She thought of the dinner. “I hate fish,” she said out loud. “It makes me break out. But I ain’t broke out.” Finally she was ready to inspect the thought that had sent her out: the symbol, the mystery, the signpost with an inexorable pointing finger. It was so plain no one could miss it. Fate was not only pointing the way but booting from behind. She thought of the dishes being taken away: the heaped legs and claws of crab and—They had eaten their horoscopes! Cancer and Pisces—fish and crab.
“Great God Almighty!” she said, and she was limp in the hands of Fate.
Sonny Boy came to the table. “Everything all right?”
“Fine,” said Doc.
“Just like you ordered.”
“Huh?”
“Your secretary told me.”
“Fine,” said Doc, “just the way I wanted it.”
When Suzy came back she was dedicated. You can only fight Fate so far, and when you give in to it you’re very strong; because all of your force flows in one direction.
Doc held her chair and then he popped the champagne cork and smelled it.
Suzy said, “Can I have it?”
“Of course.”
Suzy turned the cork in her fingers and looked at it. It was very beautiful. She put it in her purse and took an iris from the vase.
“Do you like champagne?”
“I love it,” she said and wondered what it would taste like. And she did love it.
Doc said, “You know, out in the sand dunes there are little valleys covered with pines. Sometime, when you can, let’s take meat and things out there and cook our supper. It’s very nice.”
“The fire reminded you,” said Suzy.
“That’s clever of you—so it did.”
She said, “Doc, will you sometime teach me about the stuff you got in your place?”
“Sure I will.” A surge of affection filled him. But he was a little afraid too of her terrible modesty. He looked away from her eyes to the wild iris in her hand. “There’s an old Welsh story,” he said. “It’s about a poor knight who made a wife completely out of flowers—”
The wine was strong in Suzy now. She said the sentence twice to herself before she said it aloud to Doc. “I hope she didn’t wilt.”
The low voice of Doc’s guts burst through at last. “I’m lonely,” he said. He said it as a simple matter of fact and he said it in wonder. Then he apologized. “I guess I’m a little drunk.” He felt very shy. He filled the glasses. “What the hell! Let’s have some brandy too.”
Suzy turned half away from him so that her face was outlined in leaping pine flames. “You know that place you said—out in the sand dunes?”
“Yes.”
“Could we look at it?”
“Whenever you want.”
“On our way home?”
“You’ll ruin your shoes.”
“I know,” said Suzy.
“You could take them off.”
“I will,” said Suzy.
24
Waiting Friday
Not everyone believes that Friday is unlucky, but nearly everybody agrees it is a waiting day. In business, the week is really over. In school, Friday is the half-open gate to freedom. Friday is neither a holiday nor a workday, but a time of wondering what Saturday will bring. Trade and amusement fall off. Women look through their closets to see what they have to wear. Supper is leftovers from the week.
Joe Elegant ordered sand dabs for supper at the Bear Flag. The Espaldas Mojadas returned from their latest triumph and were ushered with great courtesy to the rooms over the grocery. The Patrón distributed bottles of tequila. Also, he kept a saucer of Seconal[88] at hand. Sometimes a passion of homesickness got into his wetbacks. Sleep, he thought, was better than fighting.
Doc slept late, and when he went to the grocery for his morning beer he found Joseph and Mary alert and gay, and the sound of singing drifted down the stairs.
“Have a good time?” the Patrón asked.
“What do you mean?” Doc demanded.
“Didn’t you have a nice party last night?”
“Oh sure,” said Doc. He said it with finality.
“Doc, I’d like you to teach me more of that chess.”
“You still think you can cheat at it, do you?”
“No, I just like to figure it out. I got a case of Bohemia beer[89] from Mexico, all cold.”
“Wonderful!” said Doc. “That’s the best beer in the Western Hemisphere.”
“It’s a present,” said the Patrón.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I just feel good.”
“Thanks,” said Doc. He began to feel uneasy.
There were eyes on him. Going back to Western Biological, he felt eyes on him. It’s the brandy, he thought. I shouldn’t drink brandy. Makes me nervous.
He scrambled two eggs and shook curry powder over them. He consulted the tide chart in Thursday’s Monterey Herald. There was a fair tide at 2:18 P.M., enough for chitons and brittlestars if the wind wasn’t blowing inshore by then. The Bohemia beer settled his nerves without solving his restlessness. And for once the curried eggs didn’t taste very good.
Fauna knocked and entered. She flicked her hand at the rattlesnakes. “How do you feel, Doc?”
“All right.”
“Get drunk?”
“A little.”
“How was the dinner?”
“Wonderful. You know what to order.”
“I ought to. Say, you want to box or should we lay it on the line? See what I mean about her?”
“Yes. How does she feel?”
“She ain’t up yet.”
“I’m going collecting.”
“Want me to tell her that?”
“Why should you? Wait—I’ve got her purse. Want to take it to her?”
“Hell, she ain’t crippled. Maybe she’ll want to get it herself.”
“I won’t be here.”
“You’ll be back.”
“Say,” he said, “what the hell is this?”
She knew he might turn angry now. “I got a lot to do. You ain’t mad at me?”
“Why should I be?”
“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”
“Fauna,” he began. “Oh, let it go.”
“What do you want?”
“I was going to ask you something—but I don’t want to know.”
Suzy was hunched over a cup of coffee when Fauna got back.
“’Morning,” said Fauna. And then, “I said good morning.”
“Oh yeah,” said Suzy. “’Morning.”
“Look at me!”
88
Seconaclass="underline" Registered name of secobarbital, a barbiturate sedative that reduces anxiety by slowing down brain and nervous system activity. Supposedly available only by prescription.
89
Bohemia beer: Extensive research proves Doc’s assessment to be correct. Alcoholic haze that pervades this novel aside, there is something fitting about bohemian Doc preferring this aptly named brand of beer. Brewed exclusively in Mexico since 1900 and named for the beer-brewing region of Czechoslovakia, Bohemia is a smooth, medium-bodied pilsner-style beer with some pronounced hops flavor.