The Postman Always Rings Twice (2 page)

      But the real reason he was sore at me was over the sign. He had fallen for it so hard he was afraid I would say it was my idea, stead of his. It was such a hell of a sign they couldn't get it done for him that afternoon. It took them three days, and when it was ready I went in and got it and hung it up. It had on it all that he had drew on the paper, and a couple of other things besides. It had a Greek flag and an American flag, and hands shaking hands, and Satisfaction Guaranteed. It was all in red, white, and blue Neon letters, and I waited until dark to turn on the juice. When I snapped the switch, it lit up like a Christmas tree.

      "Well, I've seen many a sign in my time, but never one like that. I got to hand it to you, Nick."

      "By golly. By golly."

      We shook hands. We were friends again.

      Next day I was alone with her for a minute, and swung my fist up against her leg so hard it nearly knocked her over.

      "How do you get that way?" She was snarling like a cougar. I liked her like that.

      "How are you, Cora?"

      "Lousy."

      From then on, I began to smell her again.

      One day the Greek heard there was a guy up the road undercutting him on gas. He jumped in the car to go see about it. I was in my room when he drove off, and I turned around to dive down in the kitchen. But she was already there, standing in the door.

      I went over and looked at her mouth. It was the first chance I had had to see how it was. The swelling was all gone, but you could still see the tooth marks, little blue creases on both lips. I touched them with my fingers. They were soft and damp. I kissed them, but not hard. They were little soft kisses. I had never thought about them before. She stayed until the Greek came back, about an hour. We didn't do anything. We just lay on the bed. She kept rumpling my hair, and looking up at the ceiling, like she was thinking.

      "You like blueberry pie?"

      "I don't know. Yeah. I guess so."

      "I'll make you some."

      "Look out, Frank. You'll break a spring leaf."

      "To hell with the spring leaf."

      We were crashing into a little eucalyptus grove beside the road. The Greek had sent us down to the market to take back some T-bone steaks he said were lousy, and on the way back it had got dark. I slammed the car in there, and it bucked and bounced, but when I was in among the trees I stopped. Her arms were around me before I even cut the lights. We did plenty. After a while we just sat there. "I can't go on like this, Frank."

      "Me neither."

      "I can't stand it. And I've got to get drunk with you, Frank. You know what I mean? Drunk."

      "I know."

      "And I hate that Greek."

      "Why did you marry him? You never did tell me that."

      "I haven't told you anything."

      "We haven't wasted any time on talk."

      "I was working in a hash house. You spend two years in a Los Angeles hash house and you'll take the first guy that's got a gold watch."

      "When did you leave Iowa?"

      "Three years ago. I won a beauty contest. I won a high school beauty contest, in Des Moines. That's where I lived. The prize was a trip to Hollywood. I got off the Chief with fifteen guys taking my picture, and two weeks later I was in the hash house."

      "Didn't you go back?"

      "I wouldn't give them the satisfaction."

      "Did you get in movies?"

      "They gave me a test. It was all right in the face. But they talk, now. The pictures, I mean. And when I began to talk, up there on the screen, they knew me for what I was, and so did I. A cheap Des Moines trollop, that had as much chance in pictures as a monkey has. Not as much. A monkey, anyway, can make you laugh. All I did was make you sick."

      "And then?"

      "Then two years of guys pinching your leg and leaving nickel tips and asking how about a little party tonight. I went on some of them parties, Frank."

      "And then?"

      "You know what I mean about them parties?"

      "I know."

      "Then he came along. I took him, and so help me, I meant to stick by him. But I can't stand it any more. God, do I look like a little white bird?"

      "To me, you look more like a hell cat."

      "You know, don't you. That's one thing about you. I don't have to fool you all the time. And you're clean. You're not greasy. Frank, do you have any idea what that means? You're not greasy."

      "I can kind of imagine."

      "I don't think so. No man can know what that means to a woman. To have to be around somebody that's greasy and makes you sick at the stomach when he touches you. I'm not really such a hell cat, Frank. I just can't stand it any more."

      "What are you trying to do? Kid me?"

      "Oh, all right. I'm a hell cat, then. But I don't think I would be so bad. With somebody that wasn't greasy."

      "Cora, how about you and me going away?"

      "I've thought about it. I've thought about it a lot."

      "We'll ditch this Greek and blow. Just blow."

      "Where to?"

      "Anywhere. What do we care?"

      "Anywhere. Anywhere. You know where that is?"

      "All over. Anywhere we choose."

      "No it's not. It's the hash house."

      "I'm not talking about the hash house. I'm talking about the road. It's fun, Cora. And nobody knows it better than I do. I know every twist and turn it's got. And I know how to work it, too. Isn't that what we want? Just to be a pair of tramps, like we really are?"

      "You were a fine tramp. You didn't even have socks."

      "You liked me."

      "I loved you. I would love you without even a shirt. I would love you specially without a shirt, so I could feel how nice and hard your shoulders are."

      "Socking railroad detectives developed the muscles."

      "And you're hard all over. Big and tall and hard. And your hair is light. You're not a little soft greasy guy with black kinky hair that he puts bay rum on every night."

      "That must be a nice smell."

      "But it won't do, Frank. That road, it don't lead anywhere but to the hash house. The hash house for me, and some job like it for you. A lousy parking lot job, where you wear a smock. I'd cry if I saw you in a smock, Frank."

      "Well?"

      She sat there a long time, twisting my hand in both of hers. "Frank, do you love me?"

      "Yes."

      "Do you love me so much that not anything matters?"

      "Yes."

      "There's one way."

      "Did you say you weren't really a hell cat?"

      "I said it, and I mean it. I'm not what you think I am, Frank. I want to work and be something, that's all. But you can't do it without love. Do you know that, Frank? Anyway, a woman can't. Well, I've made one mistake. And I've got to be a hell cat, just once, to fix it. But I'm not really a hell cat, Frank."

      "They hang you for that."

      "Not if you do it right. You're smart, Frank. I never fooled you for a minute. You'll think of a way. Plenty of them have. Don't worry. I'm not the first woman that had to turn hell cat to get out of a mess."

      "He never did anything to me. He's all right."

      "The hell he's all right. He stinks, I tell you. He's greasy and he stinks. And do you think I'm going to let you wear a smock, with Service Auto Parts printed on the back, Thank-U Call Again, while he has four suits and a dozen silk shirts? Isn't that business half mine? Don't I cook? Don't I cook good? Don't you do your part?"

      "You talk like it was all right."

      "Who's going to know if it's all right or not, but you and me?"

      "You and me."

      "That's it, Frank. That's all that matters, isn't it? Not you and me and the road, or anything else but you and me."

      "You must be a hell cat, though. You couldn't make me feel like this if you weren't."

      "That's what we're going to do. Kiss me, Frank. On the mouth."

      I kissed her. Her eyes were shining up at me like two blue stars. It was like being in church.

CHAPTER 4

      "Got any hot water?"

      "What's the matter with the bathroom?"

      "Nick's in there."

      "Oh. I'll give you some out of the kettle. He likes the whole heater full for his bath."

      We played it just like we would tell it. It was about ten o'clock at night, and we had closed up, and the Greek was in the bathroom, putting on his Saturday night wash. I was to take the water up to my room, get ready to shave, and then remember I had left the car out. I was to go outside, and stand by to give her one on the horn if somebody came. She was to wait till she heard him in the tub, go in for a towel, and clip him from behind with a blackjack I had made for her out of a sugar bag with ball bearings wadded down in the end. At first, I was to do it, but we figured he wouldn't pay any attention to her if she went in there, where if I said I was after my razor, he might get out of the tub or something and help me look. Then she was to hold him under until he drowned. Then she was to leave the water running a little bit, and step out the window to the porch roof, and come down the stepladder I had put there, to the ground. She was to hand me the blackjack, and go back to the kitchen. I was to put the ball bearings back in the box, throw the bag away, put the car in, and go up to my room and start to shave. She would wait till the water began dripping down in the kitchen, and call me. We would break the door down, find him, and call the doctor. In the end, we figured it would look like he had slipped in the tub, knocked himself out, and then drowned. I got the idea from a piece in the paper where a guy had said that most accidents happen right in people's own bathtubs.

      "Be careful of it. It's hot."

      "Thanks."

      It was in a saucepan, and I took it up in my room and set it on the bureau, and laid my shaving stuff out. I went down and out to the car, and took a seat in it so I could see the road and the bathroom window, both. The Greek was singing. It came to me I better take note what the song was. It was Mother Mach. ree. He sang it once, and then sang it over again. I looked in the kitchen. She was still there.

      A truck and a trailer swung around the bend. I fingered the horn. Sometimes those truckmen stopped for something to eat, and they were the kind that would beat on the door till you opened up. But they went on. A couple more cars went by. They didn't stop. I looked in the kitchen again, and she wasn't there. A light went on in the bedroom.

      Then, all of a sudden, I saw something move, back by the porch. I almost hit the horn, but then I saw it was a cat. It was just a gray cat, but it shook me up. A cat was the last thing I wanted to see then. I couldn't see it for a minute, and then there it was again, smelling around the stepladder. I didn't want to blow the horn, because it wasn't anything but a cat, but I didn't want it around that stepladder. I got out of the car, went back there, and shooed it away.

      I got halfway back to the car, when it came back, and started up the ladder. I shooed it away again, and ran it clear back to the shacks. I started back to the car, and then stood there for a little bit, looking to see if it was coming back. A state cop came around the bend. He saw me standing there, cut his motor, and came wheeling in, before I could move. When he stopped he was between me and the car. I couldn't blow the horn.

      "Taking it easy?"

      "Just came out to put the car away."

      "That your car?"

      "Belongs to this guy I work for."

      "O.K. Just checking up."

      He looked around, and then he saw something. "I'll be damned. Look at that."

      "Look at what?"

      "Goddam cat, going up that stepladder."

      "Ha."

      "I love a cat. They're always up to something."

      He pulled on his gloves, took a look at the night, kicked his pedal a couple of times, and went. Soon as he was out of sight I dove for the horn. I was too late. There was a flash of fire from the porch, and every light in the place went out. Inside, Cora was screaming with an awful sound in her voice. "Frank! Frank! Something has happened!"

      I ran in the kitchen, but it was black dark in there and I didn't have any matches in my pocket, and I had to feel my way. We met on the stairs, she going down, and me going up. She screamed again.

      "Keep quiet, for God's sake keep quiet! Did you do it?"

      "Yes, but the lights went out, and I haven't held him under yet!"

      "We got to bring him to! There was a state cop out there, and he saw that stepladder!"

      "Phone for the doctor!"

      "You phone, and I'll get him out of there!"

      She went down, and I kept on up. I went in the bathroom, and over to the tub. He was laying there in the water, but his head wasn't under. I tried to lift him. I had a hell of a time. He was slippery with soap, and I had to stand in the water before I could raise him at all. All the time I could hear her down there, talking to the operator. They didn't give her a doctor. They gave her the police.

      I got him up, and laid him over the edge of the tub, and then got out myself, and dragged him in the bedroom and laid him on the bed. She came up, then, and we found matches, and got a candle lit. Then we went to work on him. I packed his head in wet towels, while she rubbed his wrists and feet.

      "They're sending an ambulance."

      "All right. Did he see you do it?"

      "I don't know."

      "Were you behind him?"

      "I think so. But then the lights went out, and I don't know what happened. What did you do to the lights?"

      "Nothing. The fuse popped."

      "Frank. He'd better not come to."

      "He's got to come to. If he dies, we're sunk. I tell you, that cop saw the stepladder. If he dies, then they'll know. If he dies, they've got us."