paused.
“That one has to be done too,” said Florence firmly.
“I have to change some bottles so I can go out tonight.”
“Honest to heaven,” she complained. “You made such a fuss over a half-hour’s work.” She went upstairs. Jim waited to see what she was going to do. She came down again, and handed him two dollars. She had on her face the treat-me-as-cruel-as-you-will-I-can-return-only-goodness look.
“No matter what anybody says, Flo, you’re all right.”
“Finish the other bathroom.”
“Okay.”
“And make a good impression tomorrow.” She had changed to an earnest tone.“You can be nice when you want to be.”
“I will. Don’t worry. We’ll really roll out the mat.”
“And when Ralph comes tonight, talk to him for a while, will you?”
“Okay.”
“No one ever pays any attention to him,” said Florence.
“Where’s Daddy gone?”
“He said he was going for a walk. I think he’s probably gone to see Dr. Ferry. He’s not feeling well at all.”
At this news of his father, Jim felt guilty. He went in quietly and worked for a few minutes on the downstairs bathroom, while Cricket watched and sucked on the two-feet-long smoking pipe. Then they went next door to the Connollys. As soon as they opened the door, Jim spotted five ginger ale bottles under the sink. Twenty-five cents. “Aunt Nora, do you mind if I change the bottles?”
“Help yourself. And sit down and have some tea and soda bread.”
“Sure.”
Aunt Nora looked at her son. “Your father is still among the missing.”
Cricket didn’t reply.
Nora’s eyes blazed. “He’s a God’s curse on me, that man. The whelp of a skunk. He couldn’t put a dime in a telephone box to tell me he’s all right, but he’s got a dollar down for every thirsty bum in the bar wherever he is. If I had the strength of a man, I’d grab him by the two legs and drag him out to the street and beat the head off him, the little rat blaggard.”
It was awkward. “He’ll be in soon, Aunt Nora.”
“When?”
“He’s been good for a while.”
“Stop it! The latest is that he’s leaving the church. He announced that the other night. ‘Call up the rectory,’ I told him. ‘They’ll have a party when they get the news.’”
Jim burst out laughing, and sprayed tea. Cricket made a high-pitched radio noise, as he did often. Down in the basement, Harold, Cricket’s little brother, was sawing away on the violin.
“I’ve got to get off,” said Jim. “That was good. Thanks.”
Nora asked Cricket, “Where are you going?”
“Just to knock around.”
“Be in early. I have enough to worry about.”
“Okay, Ma.”
Nora asked Jim, “How are preparations coming for the young man and his family?”
“Fine. Place looks great.”
Nora grunted.
Chapter 6
In front of the house Jim and Cricket met Ralph Spaulding, Florence’s boyfriend, coming up the adjoining path.
“What do you say, fellows!” he greeted.
They escorted him into the living room. “Hey Flo,” Jim yelled upstairs, “Ralph is here.”
“Be right downnnnnn,” Florence responded. Her voice had a little silver tinkle in it.
Ralph was big, well-built, with a way of holding one shoulder higher than the other. He would have been handsome had his hair not receded far back on his head. Amiable in temperament, he wanted to please. He gave the impression of being a loose-jointed friendly dog, and if given half a chance, would come and give a lick. Jim and Cricket discussed him frequently; neither could picture him as an assistant district attorney.
Jim got four cans of beer from the refrigerator. He bit the opener into them and got the satisfying spurt of air and foam. He reflected that this was going to be his brother-in-law. One way or another, they would be seeing each other for the rest of their lives. It was a funny thought. He brought the cans in and passed them around. If Florence were down, he would have had to bring glasses in too.
Ralph went through all the formalities. He enquired how Mr. Meagher was, then how school was, and then he discussed the weather. Cricket eyed him warily; he was even hostile. The fact was, Ralph was too polite to him and made him suspicious.
Ralph started to talk about his work, and that was more interesting. Jim went out for a second round of beers. Ralph was a two-beer man. Florence once had a boyfriend who drank a six-pack while he waited. Then when Florence got down, there was another delay while the guy went to the can. Mr. Meagher couldn’t stand him. He didn’t care about the beer—he got that cheap enough—but the boy felt obliged to talk the whole time he was drinking, and Harry had no stomach for interminable conversations. Harry would just get up and walk out of the house.
Another boyfriend wouldn’t take beer at all. He would stand in front of the mirror to smooth down any stray hairs, adjust his tie, and fix his shirt sleeve lengths so that they showed just the proper amount beyond the sleeve of his suit. While this was going on, Cricket would do an imitation of him a few feet away. He would also do the imitation at other times. It was so good, Florence dropped the boyfriend.
While Jim was opening the second round of beers in the kitchen, he suddenly heard Cricket asking Ralph to get up and stand next to the wall. Jim hurried in. He knew what was coming. It was a gag they pulled on the boyfriends, but this time—for the first time—he didn’t want it, out of loyalty to Florence, for Ralph was quite obviously not just another boyfriend.
“Stand with your back against the wall,” said Cricket.
“Like this?” Ralph pressed himself against the wall.
“Yeah. Now bend forward.” Ralph bent from the waist.
“Now put the sole of your left shoe against the wall.”
Ralph obliged. “Hey, you were right, Crick. This isn’t so easy.”
“The hard part’s coming,” said Cricket. ‘Leap one step forward on your right foot but keep the sole of your left shoe back against the wall.”
Ralph took the hop forward. He was so enthusiastic and compliant, Jim found it painful to watch.
“How
