Sweet Thursday

22 The Arming

At four-thirty in the afternoon Fauna ordered Suzy to the office bedroom with full field equipment. Suzy dumped her clothes on Fauna’s bed.

“That’s a hell of a way to keep wrinkles out,” Fauna observed. She picked up the gray woolen skirt and jacket, laid them out, inspected them for spots, smelled them for cleaning fluid. “Nice piece of goods,” she said.

“Community chest,” said Suzy. “I was in the charity ward.”

“Well, somebody wasn’t.” Her eyes noted the brown shoes. She went to the door and yelled, “Joe! Joe Elegant!”

He looked in. “I’m not supposed to be on duty,” he said.

“I’m a thorn in the side of the worker,” said Fauna. “You run up the street to Wildock’s and get new heel taps on these here. Tell them to fix this scuffed place and give them a nice shine. Wait and bring them back.”

Joe complained as he went, but he went.

Fauna said to Suzy, “You got any gloves?”

“No.”

“I’ll lend you some. Here—these white ones. And here’s a handkerchief. I don’t want no lipstick marks on it. Now you listen to me, Suzy girl—take care of your shoes, wear clean gloves, carry a white handkerchief, and keep your stocking seams straight. If you do that you can get away with murder. This here’s a nice suit—the kind of cloth that the older it gets the better it looks—if your heels ain’t run over. Call Becky in!”

When Becky entered Fauna said, “Ain’t you got a white piqué dickey and cuffs?”

“I just done them up.”

“I want you to lend them to Suzy. Get some thread and sew the cuffs in this here jacket.”

“She’ll have to wash them.”

“She will.”

While Becky basted in the cuffs Fauna said, “Turn out your purse, Suzy.” She inspected the pile on the bed. “You don’t need that aspirin. Here, take my comb—throw that one away. Ain’t nothing tackier than a comb missing teeth. Put these here Kleenex in. Here, use my compact and touch up that shine on your nose once in a while. Let’s see your nails! Hmmm, pretty good. You washed your hair?”

“Get her a wig,” said Becky, and she bit the thread.

“Don’t get smart. Come on now—get off your behind and do something with her hair, and not fancy neither.” To Suzy she said, “Becky got a light hand with hair. You can’t take that coat. Community chest slipped up there.” She tapped her teeth with a pencil and then went to her closet and brought out two baum martens that were biting each other’s heads off. “Just hand these here bo’ martens over your shoulder,” Fauna said. “And if you lose them or hurt them I’ll cut your tripes out. Now, where are we? No perfume. Douse some of this Florida water on—kind of old-fashioned and young-smelling.”

Becky stood behind Suzy’s chair, brushing and combing and molding. “She got big ears,” Becky said. “Maybe I can kind of hide them a little.”

“You got a nice hand with hair,” Fauna said.

The final briefing took place at six o’clock, with the bedroom door closed.

“Turn around,” said Fauna. “Keep your ankles close together. Now, walk! That’s good. You got a real nice walk. Like I said, you’re a good-looking kid if you work at it a little.”

Suzy looked at herself in the mirror and she smiled, for it seemed to her that she really was pretty, and the idea startled her and pleased her too, and when she looked pleased she was even prettier. Then her mouth turned down and blind panic came over her.

“What’s the matter?” Fauna demanded.

“What can I talk about? Fauna, I don’t want to go! I don’t belong with a guy like Doc. Jesus, Fauna, tell him I’m sick. I ain’t going.”

Fauna let her talk herself out and then she said quietly, “Maybe you’d like to cry now and get your eyes red after all my trouble? Go on, cry!”

“I’m sorry,” said Suzy. “You been nice. I ain’t no good, Fauna. You’re just wasting your time. I know what I’ll do—minute he says something I don’t understand I’ll get mad. I’m scared.”

“’Course you’re scared,” said Fauna. “But if you didn’t care nothing about Doc you wouldn’t be scared. You didn’t invent it. There ain’t never been no dame went out first time with a guy she liked that wasn’t scared. Maybe Doc’s scared too.”

“Oh nuts!” said Suzy.

Fauna said, “If I was your age with your face and shape and what I know, there wouldn’t be no man in the world could get away! I got the know-how—but that’s all I got. Oh well! I’m going to tell you a few thousand things, Suzy, that if you would listen you’d get anything you want. But hell, you won’t listen! Nobody listens, and when they learn the hard way it’s too late. Maybe it’s a good thing—I don’t know.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Sure, but you won’t learn. You know, Suzy, they ain’t no way in the world to get in trouble by keeping your mouth shut. You look back at every mess you ever got in and you’ll find your tongue started it.”

“That’s true,” said Suzy. “But I can’t seem to stop.”

“You got to learn it like you learn anything else—just practice. Next thing is opinions. You and me is always busting out with opinions. Hell, Suzy, we ain’t got no opinions! We just say stuff we heard or seen in the movies. We’re scared we’ll miss something, like running for a bus. That’s the second rule: lay off opinions because you ain’t really got any.”

“You got them numbered, huh?” said Suzy.

“I should write a book,” said Fauna. “If She Could, I Could. Now take number three. There don’t hardly nobody listen, and it’s so easy! You don’t have to do nothing when you listen. If you do listen it’s pretty interesting. If a guy says something that pricks up your interest, why, don’t hide it from him. Kind of try to wonder what he’s thinking instead of how you’re going to answer him back.”

“You’re sure putting the finger on me,” Suzy said softly.

“I only got a little more, but it’s the hardest of all, and the easiest.”

“What number?”

“I lost track. Don’t pretend to be something you ain’t, and don’t make like you know something you don’t, or sooner or later you’ll fall on your ass. And there’s one more part to this one, what ever number it is: they ain’t nobody was ever insulted by a question. S’pose Doc says something and you don’t know what it means. Ask him! The nicest thing in the world you can do for anybody is let them help you.”

Suzy was silent, looking down at her hands.

Fauna said, “You got nice nails. How do you keep them so nice?”

Suzy said, “That’s easy. My grandma taught me. You keep a old lemon rind, and every time you wash your hands you scrounge your fingernails around in it. And then you shake a little face powder on your hand and you polish your nails on the ham of your hand and you push down the quick with a little piece of lemon wood.”

“See what I mean?” said Fauna.

“What?”

“I just asked you a question.”

Suzy blushed, “I sure fell into that.”

“No, you didn’t. I wanted to know. It’s best if you ask when you want to know.”

“Thanks,” said Suzy. “You’re a hell of a dame. I wonder if I could learn?”

“You can if you just remember a lot of things: first, you got to remember you’re Suzy and you ain’t nobody else but Suzy. Then you got to remember that Suzy is a good thing—a real valuable thing—and there ain’t nothing like it in the world. It don’t do no harm just to say that to yourself. Then, when you got that, remember that there’s one hell of a lot Suzy don’t know. Only way she can find out is if she sees it, reads it, or asks it. Most people don’t look at nothing but themselves, and that’s a rat race.”

“What’s the fourth thing?” Suzy asked.

“I’m proud of you!” Fauna said. “You listened. The next thing you’ll have to do some thinking about. Nobody don’t give a particular damn about Suzy one way or the other. It’s hard to get them thinking about you because they’re too busy thinking about themselves. There’s two, three, copper-bottom ways to get their attention: Talk about them. If you see something nice or good or pretty, tell them. Don’t make it a fake though. Don’t fight nobody unless there ain’t no other way. Don’t never start a fight, and if one starts, let it get going good before you jump in. Best way in the whole world to defend yourself is to keep your dukes down! Now, when you got their attention, first thing they want is to do something for you. Let them. Don’t get proud and say you don’t need it or want it. That’s a slap in the puss. Thing people like most in the world is to give you something and have you like it and need it. That ain’t sloppy. That works. You give it a try.”

“You think Doc would fall for that stuff?”

“Just give it a try.”

Suzy said, “Fauna, didn’t you never get married?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Fauna smiled. “Time I learned what I just told you, it was too late.”

“I love you,” said Suzy.

“Now you see! You got me softened up like butter. I want you should keep them furs.”

“But—”

“Watch it!”

“Yeah, I see. I sure do thank you. And would you maybe write down all that stuff so I can get it by heart?”

“Sure I will. Now look, Suzy—tonight, just before you say something, say it first to yourself, and kind of dust it off.”

“You mean cussing?”

“I mean cussing and I mean—well, sometimes if you look at it you don’t say it. One whole hell of a lot that passes for talk is just running off at the mouth. I guess you’re about ready now.”

“Is there anything I can do for you, Fauna?”

“Yes. I want you should repeat after me, ‘I’m Suzy and nobody else.’ ”

“ ‘I’m Suzy and nobody else.’ ”

“ ‘I’m a good thing.’ ”

“ ‘I’m a good thing.’ ”

“ ‘There ain’t nothing like me in the whole world.’ ”

“ ‘There ain’t nothing’—goddam it, Fauna, now my eyes’ll be red!”

“They look pretty that way,” said Fauna.

At seven o’clock Doc, dressed in an open-collared shirt, leather jacket, and army pants, rang the bell at the Bear Flag. He looked at Suzy and he said, “I’ve got to make a telephone call, do you mind?” And he ran back to the laboratory.

Ten minutes later he returned. He had on clean slacks, a tweed jacket, and a tie he hadn’t used in years.

Fauna saw him standing under the porch light.

“Honey,” she said to Suzy, “you win the first round on points.”