The woman pushed the door open, stepped inside, and closed the door. She was even taller than Bertha. She placed an arm around May, her face showing horror when she had a good look at May's bruises. She said, “No, Mrs. Cork. But don't be alarmed. I'm the wife of a detective. He's downstairs with your Tommy. We've been looking all over town for you, to help you. I had to use this ruse to reach you.”
May began to weep. Ruth walked her to the bed and they both sat down. Ruth said, “Everything's going to be all right now. You're safe.” Looking at the scrawny little woman, the beaten face, Ruth asked herself, “How could any man ever love... this? Even marry her? She's just a plain bag of bones. Although really not as old as she looks. Why, probably she isn't forty.”
May leaned against her, sniffling and weeping like a child, and compared to Ruth, not much bigger than a little girl. After a moment, Ruth said, “I'll send Tommy up to...”
“Oh no! I can't let him see me like this. Oh, I've done a terrible thing.”
“Nothing really very bad,” Ruth said softly, thinking, Now here's a real character for my book, if only I knew what makes her tick. Why do I feel so detached? I'll never understand people this way. “May, Tommy and my husband are going to take you to a better place, a safe place, until all this is straightened out. Then...”
“I can't let Tommy see me like this.”
“That's being silly. He's been out of his mind looking for you. And my husband is with him. I told you, he's a detective, and a good one. He won't let anything happen to you.”
“Is he going to arrest me?”
“No. Walt is in this as a friend of Tommy's. Trust me, and don't worry.”
May shook her head and for a moment there was only silence in the room, and the sharp smell of bug powder. Ruth said, “You must let us help you.”
May said faintly, “Can you get me something to eat? I'm so weak.”
“Of course.” Ruth stood up. Suddenly, she said aloud, “You mean you're really hungry?”
“I haven't had anything to eat for over a day.” As Ruth reached the door, May added, “Please don't let Tommy come up, yet.”
“I'm just going down to get coffee and whatever else I can find. Now, you'll let me in again, won't you?”
May nodded.
Downstairs, Ruth told Walt and Tommy, “Get a container of coffee, rolls—anything. She's very hungry, still a bit shocked. And don't you go up there, yet, Mr. Cork.”
“Is she hurt?” Tommy asked.
“Well, no. Naturally, she's upset. Get her some food and let her talk to me for a while. She'll be okay.”
“But...?” Tommy began.
Walt cut him off with, “She's going hungry while we gab here. Must be a bar or coffee pot around. You buy some food. I'll wait here with Ruth. Need money?”
“I have money,” Tommy said quietly, trotting off down the street.
Walt looked at Ruth. “You look kind of pale yourself. Is she beaten up?”
Ruth nodded as she lit a cigarette, leaning against the entrance of what, perhaps half a century ago, had been an imposing brownstone and was now a cheap rooming-house. Ruth shook herself, as if something might be crawling on her. “Both her eyes are blackened. She's such a pathetic little thing. But so is he. What do we do now?”
“First we hear what she has to say. Then we'll hide her out in some hotel.”
“Want to take her to my sister's across the river? Ann loves to do good and... Is May in any real danger?”
“If they found her they might work her over again, but I doubt if they're going to look too hard. Certainly, not out of the state.”
“What did she actually do?”
“Held out a dollar bet from the numbers mob.”
“How much?”
“One dollar.”
“They beat her for a lousy buck?”
Walt looked at Ruth as if she was a child. “It sounds funny, but it's the principle of the thing. They can't let anybody hold out a cent on them, or they're through. Listen, thanks for doing all this, Ruth.” He touched her shoulder with his hand.
Ruth turned away, blew out a smoke ring. “It's... interesting. Nice of you to help Tommy. Was he a famous pug?”
“No. But he's had over two hundred amateur and pro bouts. He's...”
“His face looks like his mother was frightened by a boxing glove.”
“Can't you ever stop with the clever dialogue?” Walt asked. “I had less than twenty amateur bouts, all told. Two hundred fights isn't nothing to joke about or...”
“Isn't anything to joke about?”
“What?”
Tommy came running back, holding a paper bag. He said, “I can't understand why May won't see me. I'll take this up...”
Ruth took the bag. “She's hungry, upset, doesn't want you to see her like this. Just wait a while.” Starting up the stairs with the bag of food, Ruth stared at the worn, wooden steps, thought, Here I am in the middle of the night, bringing food to a beaten, hungry woman in this stinking fire-trap. What more could any writer ask? If I don't get a story out of this, I'll turn in my typewriter.
Ruth sat on the bed while May stood, wolfed down the coffee and two sandwiches. She'd said, “Messy to eat on a bed. And it's bad luck.”
“If I had my wits about me, I'd have brought up a drink.”
“I don't touch that stuff.”
When Ruth lit another cigarette, offered her one, May said she didn't smoke. Ruth opened her chic, fur-trimmed coat, finished the cigarette. May was eating slower now, chewing the food, her thin face almost smiling. She said, “My, a steak couldn't have tasted better. Food makes all the difference, doesn't it? I feel so much better. One reason I liked being a waitress, I almost felt as if I was doing good, helping people eat.”
“Tommy bought the food. You'll have to see him, Mrs.... May. He wanted to dash right up here. You should see him. What's a black eye between husband and wife?”
“It isn't my face, Lord knows I never was a beauty.” May smoothed a fold in her skirt, seemed to absent-mindedly caress it. “Funny the kind of things you think about. I mean, even at a time like this, the trouble I'm in—I should be thinking about a hundred things and not about the time Tommy and I were first married. You see, I was brought up very strict by my aunt. In our neighborhood there were only two kinds of girls. You know what I mean.”
May suddenly blushed and looked so young and girlish, Ruth wanted to cry. May said, “I don't even know why I'm telling you this, except I was thinking about it today, sort of running it over and over in my mind. Just now, when I said I was never a beauty. On our wedding night I... I... simply couldn't bring myself to undress. Tommy understood so well, that I wasn't afraid of him, but scared of the whole... idea. He turned off the lights in the hotel room and I was numb with... well... fright is about the right word. Then he began undressing me, his hands so easy, and I started to weep. Everything he did was so gentle and considerate, but I still cried. When I was naked he turned on the lights. I covered my face with my hands, I was that ashamed. So Tommy he pulled my hands away and says, 'Look at yourself in that mirror, May. Right how there's no difference between you and Mrs. Rockefeller. Do you know that? Except you're prettier—to me.' Of course we were poorer than church mice but what he said sounded so nice, so fine, I relaxed, even giggled. And... Gee, I shouldn't be talking like this. Poor Tommy, how can I ever explain to him what I've done?”