Kept Woman/Chapter 12

Clifford Sullivan was small in stature and exceedingly slim. He believed that plus fours were becoming to him and he always wore them on Sundays during the summer. In winter he chose for himself a long, bulky overcoat and was convinced that it made a tall and strapping man of him. His face was thin and almost aesthetic in appearance. A strangely intellectual face, totally unrelated to the mind that functioned behind it. He had always planned to marry when he was forty. That seemed to him an ideal age. He would certainly have money by then and he would build a home perhaps in Kew Gardens. It would have sunken tubs, a garbage incinerator, and a bathroom done in black and gold. His bride would be beautiful and preferably the daughter of a man who had lost his fortune in Wall Street. She would thus be fitted for the position of being a rich man's wife and yet completely dependent upon him financially.

It was a nice dream. In fact so nice that it must have taken courage to lay it aside when at the age of twenty-five, Clifford married Anna Leitz and they went to live in a two-room-and-kitchenette arrangement on Nagle Avenue.

They married without having announced their inten​tions. It was Anna's idea that their marriage should be a complete surprise to her friends. Perhaps it was a desire for romance that made her so eager to just slip away to City Hall with Clifford one fine morning. Then again perhaps she did not completely trust her friends and their never silent tongues.

They came directly to Lillian after the ceremony and proudly exhibited their marriage certificate. Lillian was obligingly astounded. They laughed at her surprise and she laughed at their secretiveness and everybody was happy.

But later when Clifford had run to the delicatessen store to get some sandwiches so they could celebrate Anna turned solemn eyes upon Lillian and demanded, "Did you ever tell Billy and Louise about me?"

"About you?"

"Yes, you know. When I was sick here that time."

"Oh." Lillian laughed a little. "Certainly I did."

"No kidding, Lillian, did you?"

"Don't be a jackass. What should I tell them for?"

"Well, did they suspect?"

"I guess maybe they did."

"But they weren't sure? They didn't have anything to be positive about?"

"Not unless you told them."

"Of course I didn't. You don't think Hubert did, do you?"

"He wouldn't, Anna. Don't be crazy."

"You see Clifford doesn't—I wouldn't dare—I know you wouldn't say anything—I was kind of worried about the Fishers."

​"Oh, boloney. Don't make a molehill out of a mountain."

"But, look, Lillian, it's easy for you to joke about it."

"Come on, we'll make coffee." Such moments were not to Lillian's taste. She hated to see hopes and fears suddenly plucked from their rightful seclusion and made to stand naked and shivering on display. She had always hated those intimate moments and of late her hatred had increased, for they reminded her now of the night when she had sent Hubert home to ask Helen for release. People were fools. She went to the kitchen and made the percolator ready. Anna would be herself again if she were left alone for a while.

Clifford came back with sandwiches and a cake. "Was it all right at the store?" Lillian asked him. "Would he let you charge it to me?"

"Sure."

"I was thinking I ought to have called him up and told him it was O.K."

"No, it was all right."

The Sullivans and Lillian sat down to their little repast. Lillian was in a friendly and merry humor. It was her way of promising Anna that everything would be all right. Anna was slightly preoccupied and disturbed. Lillian wished she had been able to pat her affectionately and say, "Wild horses couldn't drag your secret from me." That might have been pretty and certainly reassuring, but Lillian knew that she wouldn't have been able to say it without laughing, and that would probably have added to Anna's distress and doubt.

The Sullivans had their pleasant little surprise game ​to play all over again when Hubert came in. Once more everybody laughed and shook hands and Hubert kissed the bride and asked her what she wanted for a wedding present.

"I got to see the certificate though," he laughed pleasantly. "Gee, how do I know you ain't just sticking your friends for wedding presents."

"I'm not that kind of a girl," Anna laughed back at him. Then her laughter died and she held her breath, fearful of what he might unthinkingly reply.

"She's the kind of a girl who wants something nice for a present," Lillian chattered blithely. She had seen Anna's sudden stark fear and had shared it. Hubert was loyal but forgetful and blundering.

The Fishers dropped in. Not exactly unexpectedly, but without having mentioned their intentions. It wasn't possible for the Fishers to drop in unexpectedly, as Lillian was always fairly certain that they were on their way to her house if they were not already there.

Lillian bore Louise no ill will. Anything unpleasant was better forgotten, and Louise was a good kid. She didn't mean any harm. Just dumb. It wasn't a girl's fault if she was dumb. Hubert had not so easily forgiven Louise for interfering in his business, but Lillian had convinced him that Louise had meant well.

During the days when Louise's fate hung in the balance and there was a chance that Hubert would never be friendly toward her again Lillian wondered about new friends. How did you make new friends if you weren't working? Gee, you just couldn't talk to people in the street. Anna and Louise she had met in the store, ​and other people whom she knew were originally friends of theirs. Hubert she had met through May McCloud, whom she also had known in the store. If she lost these friends she'd never get any more. The source of supply had been removed. The thought frightened her. Friends were good to have and she hadn't so many that she could afford to lose two. It had been with open arms that Lillian had welcomed the Fishers back.

Anna seemed doubtful about telling Billy and Louise the news. Lillian told them.

Billy said "Congratulations" in a flat indifferent tone, but Louise kissed both the Sullivans and took the matter quite to heart. Anna resented her warm interest. It was too sweet, she thought, and gloomily reflected that Louise might just as well have said, "Well, well, well, so Anna's got a husband. Isn't that gorgeous. I'm so glad for poor Anna."

Hubert went out and got a bottle of gin from somewhere. Later he went out and got another bottle of gin. Lillian didn't drink much. She was handling Anna's wedding night very carefully. Louise and Anna had been known to wrangle when in their cups, and tonight even a small exchange of angry words between them might prove disastrous.

It was after midnight when Louise asked Anna where she was going to live now. Anna didn't know. The apartment on Nagle Avenue had not yet been found. They began to talk then of apartment layouts. Louise liked kitchens directly next to the living-room. Anna favored the little hall between them.

​"I like this apartment," said Anna.

"God knows you do," Louise replied. "You're nearly always here."

"I'm not here as often as you are."

"You lived here once for a week."

"I never was here for a week. I was here three days once."

"Yes, when you had grippe." Louise pronounced the word "grippe" in a tone which would have set any one wondering.

Lillian and Clifford, who had been talking quietly together, broke off their conversation and turned toward the girls. Louise was looking bold and very well pleased with herself. She was terribly drunk. Anna, more in possession of her wits, was looking puzzled and amused.

"She seems to be sore because I stayed here, Lillian," Anna explained. Her voice was even but her cheeks were flushed, and she had knocked her glass over on the sofa without noticing it.

"Gee whiz, a fight on Anna's wedding day," Lillian said. "Aren't you ashamed, Louise?"

Seeing that Louise was about to answer, Lillian hurried on: "I'm awfully flattered that you two girls like me so much that you're always arguing who spends the most time here. Honest, Louise, Anna wasn't just faking that she had grippe in order to stick around. She really was sick that time. You know you're welcome, Lou, to spend as much time as you like here, too. Now look, the newly married couple—gee, that sounds like a newspaper announcement—anyhow they've got no little nest to go to tonight; so I suggest they have this ​apartment. Hubert and I will go somewhere else. Come on, let's clear out now. We'll get our things right away—" Lillian grabbed Louise's arm and led her toward the bedroom, where the coats and hats were. "Come on, Billy, you too. We must all get out and leave the love-birds alone."

Before they knew it the Fishers and Hubert were standing down on the pavement with Lillian.

Billy was upbraiding his wife. "Why the hell must you always fight wherever you go? It's a damn good thing you're not a man, you'd have the daylights punched out of you every time you opened your trap. As it is, you're going to pick the wrong dame some day and she'll beat the hell out of you. I've got a good mind to take a crack at you myself."

"I'll talk as much as I please and I won't ask your permission either. What are you sticking up for Anna for anyhow?"

"I'm not sticking up for anybody. I'm just telling you what I think of you."

"You needn't bother."

"Oh, I know I'm just wasting my breath. You're too damn dumb to be anything but what you are."

"If I was smart I wouldn't have married you."

"If I was smart you wouldn't have."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeh, that's so."

A window opened on the ground floor of the building and a man looked out at them. "Shut up, will you? You're waking everybody up," he said.

"Go stick your head in the river," Billy answered.

​Hubert smiled up at his neighbor. "Don't mind them," he said. "They've had a little too much to drink. I'm taking them home."

"You'd better or I'll call a cop." The man angrily slammed the window shut. He was not impressed by Hubert's friendly smile and assurance.

Lillian tucked her arm under Billy's and led him toward the garage. Hubert followed in back with Louise. The idea was to separate the two and beguile them with meaningless pleasantries. The plan, however, was a fiasco, as Louise and Billy now had to shout at each other, and to Hubert and Lillian the garage seemed very far away.

When the Fishers had been left safely behind in their own vestibule Hubert asked, "Where now?"

"I don't know," Lillian returned. "When I spoke up in the apartment I really meant to give Anna and Cliff the place for the night. I thought you and I could go to a hotel, but it don't seem so simple now. It's a question of what hotel, and we haven't any baggage. I was thinking we could go back and sleep on the couch. Do you think they'd mind?"

"Oh, I don't suppose so. They're good kids."

"Well, we'll go back then. We'll be quiet about it. Don't let the couch bang when you open it."

"I won't."

"And listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. It's about Anna. Cliff don't know about Fred. Be careful not to mention anything about him, will you?"

"Say, what do you take me for?"

"Oh, I know you wouldn't say anything on purpose, ​but I mean, be careful that you don't let anything slip. I was scared of that tonight with Louise. She can be awfully mean when she wants to be."

"Gee, I should think Anna would be worried all the time from now on that somebody would spill something about it. It's kind of a dirty trick, too, on Cliff, I think, don't you?"

"No, I don't see why it is."

"Well, gosh, I don't know. It seems kind of dirty to me."

"Why should she tell him if she don't want to? No woman ever tips a guy off before she marries him that she has a rotten temper. And that's a lot more trouble than having another boy friend."

Lillian fell quiet then. The idea that she had just voiced struck her as being strange indeed. Of course a girl ought to tell her husband about her past; still, that spiel about the rotten temper did make sense. She decided that her eagerness to protect Anna had invented that queer thought and she tried then to dismiss it, but she felt uncomfortable. She always hated to find herself saying things that Louise and the other girls wouldn't say. It always made people think you were funny. And a rotten temper did make more trouble than an ex-boy friend, though there weren't any rules about it. It was all very confusing.

Hubert broke in on her thoughts. "Don't worry about Fred and Anna as far as I'm concerned. I'll keep quiet."

"Oh, I know you wouldn't blab to be mean or anything. I just thought maybe you'd let something slip about it."

​"No, I'll be careful."

Hubert and Lillian spent the night on the couch with their heads pillowed upon the small, cretonne-covered cushions. They weren't bad little cushions but you got a stiff neck from trying to stay up on them.

The next day Lillian found that a precedent had been successfully established. The Sullivans had spent the night in her apartment and believed that it could be done again. Lillian knew well that it could be done again. She had never learned how to refuse. It seemed that Anna's mother hadn't room for both Anna and Cliff and they couldn't bear to be separated. A hotel was out of the question, as the Sullivan funds were low, and it would be Sunday before Anna would get a chance to hunt for an apartment.

"Certainly," said Lillian. "Stay as long as you like." The poor kids. After all, they did have to have some place to go.

Anna was generous about it, however. It was she who insisted that the couch would do perfectly well for herself and Cliff and that Lillian and Hubert must take the bed. Lillian appreciated her thoughtfulness. She went out and bought two real bed pillows for the couch and another blanket. She and Hubert had been a bit chilly.

On Sunday Anna and Lillian found the apartment on Nagle Avenue. It was forty-five dollars a month. Anna couldn't go a cent over forty; so she stood in the center of the sunny living-room and cried a little bit. This was just what she wanted, but oh, she couldn't manage it. Forty dollars was absolutely her outside price.

​"Quit weeping, willow," Lillian said. She liked to say that and "good morning, glory."

"Oh, you'd weep, too. Here's just the kind of place I dreamed of. Look how cute the kitchenette is. Those big doors across it make it look just like a wardrobe."

"Great for cockroaches, too," Lillian added.

"I won't have roaches. I'll keep after them all the time. I'd put the cutest curtains there— Oh, look, Lillian, it has a place for dishes and everything."

"Take it," Lillian said shortly.

"But I can't pay forty-five dollars."

"Can you pay forty?"

"Yes, we can pay forty."

"All right. Take it."

"But where will the extra five come from?" Anna had a fair idea now where the extra five would come from, but she wanted Lillian to be explicit.

"Don't worry. Take the apartment, will you? I can't stand here all day."

Anna took the apartment and moved in three days later, staying home from work one morning to do so. The living-room and bedroom were furnished on the installment plan. Lillian bought the curtains and the kitchenette essentials. Hubert gave Clifford sixty dollars to cover the extra five dollars on his rent for a year.

"That will be your wedding present," he said. Clifford and Anna looked a little disappointed, he thought; so he bought them a carving-set. Anna wondered what she would do with it, but she was very appreciative. After all, it takes a man of rare imagination to present a kitchenette-user with a carving-set.

​Lillian felt relieved when the Sullivans settled in their own place. They had made a terrible lot of noise in the mornings fixing their breakfast and Anna had washed Clifford's shirts one night and hung them up in the kitchen to dry. Lillian didn't mind silk underwear daintily spread upon a line but the sight of heavy pieces drying in a kitchen brought unpleasant recollections of her childhood. The old lady at the tub. The house smelling of yellow soap. Rainy days and the kitchen strange and damp with shapeless white phantoms hanging from up near the ceiling.

The Sullivans had no housewarming. Lillian had planned to give them a surprise party during their first week in the apartment, but Anna had changed Lillian's mind.

"I'm not going to have any parties," Anna said, patting with a loving hand the covering of her big chair. "Look at the way people have your apartment. Holes in the rug and stains and everything. Not for me."

Lillian had the party at her house instead.

The Fishers and the Sullivans when mixed together became a great problem for Lillian. Billy and Cliff never argued but they complained to Lillian about each other continually. Cliff thought Billy was too fresh to Hubert and Lillian and should be "taken down a peg." Billy thought Cliff was full of hot air and was only trying to get something out of Scotty with his willingness to run errands. Anna and Louise wrangled continually and once Louise slapped Lillian for interfering. ​She had been drinking, though, so Lillian didn't hold it against her.

When the Fishers had gone that night Anna said that if she were Lillian she would never have Louise in her house again. Hymie Moss had enlarged on Anna's speech.

"If I were Lillian," he had said, "I'd never have any of us in my house again."

But Lillian was Lillian and they all met many, many more times in her apartment and each evening started out with Anna and Louise chatting pleasantly together.

Anna kept her job at the store and the Sullivans were able to meet their installment collections and their rent with ease. When they were a trifle short Hubert was willing to help; so Anna was proud to say that things were going very well indeed.

When winter came upon Inwood, Lillian gave Anna her last year's coat. It was blue velvet with fur trimming. Anna said that Cliff would have a fit about her wearing second-hand clothes but she didn't care, she liked the coat and she'd take it anyway. Cliff didn't have a fit. He said that it looked very well on Anna and that he didn't know what she would have done without it.

One night Lillian and Hubert escaped from the crowd and went downtown to see a show. It had been Lillian's suggestion. On the way home Hubert laughed and said, "Say, you know what? We've been together just one year today."

"You big stiff, did you just remember that?"

​"Sure, did you know it?"

"Of course. What do you think I wanted to dodge the bunch for? I thought we ought to be alone."

"Gee, Lil, why didn't you say something about it sooner? I'd have bought you something. You know, some little present or something."

"Oh, that's all right."

She was not disturbed at his forgetfulness. The comic strips had taught her that men never remember anniversaries.