Sweet Thursday

12 Flower in a Crannied Wall[60]

Joe Elegant[61] was a pale young man with bangs. He smoked foreign cigarettes in a long ebony holder and he cooked for the Bear Flag. The girls said he made the best popovers in the world, and he could give a massage that would shake the kinks out of a Saturday night when the fleet was in. He sneered most of the time, and except at mealtime kept to himself in his little lean-to behind the Bear Flag, from which the rattle of his typewriter could be heard late at night.

One morning soon after she had come Suzy was having her coffee while Joe Elegant cleared the table of crumbs from earlier breakfasts.

“You make good coffee,” Suzy said.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t look like a guy who would work here.”

“It’s temporary, I assure you.”

“I got a wonderful recipe for gumbo. Want me to give it to you?”

“Fauna designs the meals.”

“You ain’t very friendly.”

“Why should I be?”

He was passing behind her. Suzy reached up, hooked her fingers in his shirt collar, twisted and yanked his face down level with her own. “Listen you,” she began, and she scowled into his popping eyes. “Oh, the hell with it,” said Suzy and released him.

Joe Elegant stepped back and massaged his throat and smoothed his shirt.

“Sorry,” said Suzy.

“It’s quite all right.”

“What makes you so mean?”

“You said it. I don’t belong here.”

“Where do you belong?”

“I don’t think you’d understand.”

“You too good for the place?”

“Let’s say I’m different.”

“No kidding!” said Suzy.

“I’m writing a novel.”

“You are? What about? I love novels.”

“You wouldn’t like this one.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand it.”

“Then what good is it?”

“It isn’t intended for the mass.”

“I’m the mass, huh? I guess you got something there. I bet you could write a pretty nice hunk of stuff.”

Joe Elegant swallowed and his face twitched convulsively. “Sometime I’ll read you some of it.”

“Say, that would be nice. But you said I couldn’t understand it.”

“I’ll explain it as I go along.”

“I’d like that. There’s one whole hell of a lot I don’t understand.”

“Do you like brownies?” he asked.

“I love them.”

“I’ll make you some. Maybe you’ll come to my apartment some afternoon. I could give you a cup of tea.”

“Say, you’re a nice fella! Got any more coffee?”

“I’ll make a fresh pot.”