Kept Woman/Chapter 23

Five-thirty p.m. in the subway. Lillian Cory standing on the platform of a northbound train. God, what a crush. That fellow with the mustache seemed to think that he could push right through her if he kept trying. Why didn't people build department stores down at the Battery anyhow? Then shop girls who had been standing on their feet all day would be sure to get a seat. God, it was hot, too. A nice thunder shower, now. Well, not exactly now but right after she got indoors.

Crossing her eyes and looking downward, Lillian could see that her nose was shiny. Oh, the devil with it. In this heat a person couldn't be bothered. Gosh, it was only One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth Street. She wondered if the ride used to seem this long in the old days. Well, she'd get so again that she didn't mind it. It takes time to get back in the swing of things. After all, this was the first time she had seen a subway rush hour in nearly two years.

The train groaned and swayed as it went its way. Lillian was in no danger of falling, tightly packed in as she was by other warm, crushed individuals.

Outside One Hundred and Sixty-Eighth Street station the train paused in the darkness. Nobody knew why it paused but everybody wondered how long they would ​be delayed. It was no more than a minute that they waited there, but it would have stretched magically from ten to thirty minutes by the time the passengers repeated it at dinner that evening.

Inwood at last. Lillian stepped briskly down the stairs, rearranging her clothes as she walked. She went to the butcher's first and purchased two lamb chops. She said she wanted them cut thick. The butcher nodded and cut them thin. He knew very well that anybody who dealt there couldn't afford thick chops. Next door she bought a head of lettuce and a large tomato. She crossed Post Avenue and stopped at the drug store for a jar of Vaporub. A small jar.

Well, now that was done. She wondered how Hubert was. He was such a fool about that cold. She hoped that he hadn't been doing anything silly that would make him worse.

She was relieved to find him on the couch in the living-room. He was lying in his pajamas with a sheet drawn over him.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello. How are you?"

"All right, I guess. How was the job?"

"Fine. I think I'll like that store. Of course it's only the first day, but you can tell pretty much about it."

He nodded and she turned away to put the lamb chops to broil. He was glad she was home. It had been a miserable day. First of all he hadn't felt so awfully good. Then, too, he had been kind of worried about one thing and another. And lonesome. Now the Packard, for instance. Lillian would probably be asking for ​it soon. Oh, well, it was silly to worry about that. He could get around it all right. No use crossing a bridge till you come to it.

It looked good to see Lil flying about the place putting dishes on the table and washing the lettuce. He sure had missed her. Well, soon he'd be out all day too. Soon as this cold let up a little he'd get something to do. He'd see how fellows got those jobs driving cabs or laundry trucks or anything like that. Gee, a fellow couldn't starve. God knew that he was as smart as any guy holding down a big job with stenographers and office boys at his beck and call, but, Lord, he couldn't starve just because nobody else recognized ability. He was a good driver. He ought to be able to get a truck or a cab or something. If not, there were other jobs. He'd have to find out about them.

He wondered why Helen's refusal of help had suddenly made him see that he must buckle down and take any job at all. Was it because he had been depending on Helen to reach down and pull him out of his troubles? That couldn't be it. He wasn't the kind who depended on other people. He never had been that kind. Well, to hell with the cause of his waking up. The fact was that he had to pitch in and do something that would get him at least twenty-five bucks a week.

"Dinner's ready," Lillian said.

"All right." He pulled himself from the couch. One step and he was at the table. The plate before him bore a lamb chop, several lettuce leaves, and two slices of tomato. She had tried to make it look dainty, but he didn't notice, because he was very hungry.

​They ate in silence. Once Lillian asked him if he wanted more bread. He did and when she arose to cut it he asked for more lettuce, too.

Afterwards he went to the couch again and Lillian washed and dried the dishes.

The summer night came down over Inwood. The children summoned each other with strange calls somewhere between a yodel and a wail. A feeling of loneliness came over Lillian. All up and down the street there were groups of people talking and laughing. She wondered if Anna and Louise were somewhere together tonight. Perhaps Theresa was with them. They would all have bright-colored slippers and organdie dresses and would be laughing about something. They wouldn't even mention her name. Nobody ever again would mention her name. Her mother might once in a while; that is, if she was still alive.

A young woman paused in the street below Lillian's window. She had a trim figure, small, slim feet. She called, "Say, John Gilbert's up at the Dyckman tonight. Want to come?"

She was addressing the girl at the window above Lillian's. Besides, Lillian had known by her voice that it wasn't Theresa.

Hubert coughed. Lillian went to get the Vaporub. She had forgotten it till now.

"Say, Lil, don't put that on. I got to go out tomorrow and it might make matters worse if you smear me up. You know it opens the pores and all."

"What are you going out for?"

"I've got to get a job, Lil. Anything. You know, ​driving a cab or cashiering, or anything they'll take me for."

She bent low over the Vaporub jar as she unscrewed its cap. "Yes," she said, "I know. But don't go yet. Wait till you're better."

She sat down beside him. The jar was clasped idly in her fingers. He looked at her questioningly. She seemed to have forgotten what she had intended to do. Suddenly she turned and hugged him fiercely.

"Love me?" he asked.

"Don't be a clown."

"Gee, Lil, you're a good scout."

"Here, let me see your chest."

She took a blob of the Vaporub in her hand and began to massage him. He lay back with his eyes closed, submitting to her care.

The calls in the street continued. People greeted each other with loud hellos and left with equally loud good-bys.

"See you Sunday."

"Why don't you drop in sometime?"

"Here comes the crowd now."

Loud people shouting from window to window and across streets. Shouting even when they stood beside the person they addressed.

Hubert heard them. He opened his eyes but closed them again. Lillian thought it was as though he had opened his mouth to speak and had reconsidered.

She put a towel over his chest and buttoned his pajama coat, then went to sit by the window again.

The children's calls died away as the night grew ​older. Even the voices of the grown people were quieted as they sought their beds. A summer's night it might be, but there was work to be done tomorrow.

For the first time in her life Lillian wondered why God troubled to create mankind. Was it for the same reason that people kept pets? She stared up at the sky as she wondered. Its blue darkness reminded her that it was growing late. She, too, had work to do tomorrow. She sighed and picked up the clock. She set the alarm for seven.

Hubert turned and looked at her.

"Come on, ickle boy," she said. "Time we went beddy-byes."

"Yes, I suppose so." He got up. "Say, you know I was just laying there thinking how much alone you are. You haven't got a friend, Lil. Suppose something happened to me?"

"That's a sweet thought. I hate to discourage you, but you're pretty strong. Nothing will happen to you."

"I know. But suppose something did? Gee, you used to have so many friends—Theresa and Mary Jackson and Anna and Louise. Look, they're all gone."

"Oh, them," said Lillian. She was turning out the lights and she spoke carelessly over her shoulder. "To hell with them. They're only weak-kneed little no-accounts passing me up cold because I'm a kept woman. Come on, hon, get to bed."