These Days
week two
Today she did not get out of bed. I went over to the boarding house where she stays but the man at the desk said she had not come down yet. Immediately I went to find Snoddy. He was about to leave for Queens to meet with someone there, but he followed me anyway. I watched him go up to see her and I waited downstairs for over an hour, but he did not return.When I was about to leave he came down and tapped me on the shoulder and told me to go to Queens in his place. I asked if Rita was okay and he said that she was fine, just sad. Then he left again. He looked exhausted. I wondered if spending time with her like this was really so much of an effort for him.
So that's why I'm here, in Queens, staring at its self proclaimed 'leader' in the face. He's talking at me real fast but all I can think about is Rita. And Snoddy. And I'm worried, but that's the last thing I want to show in a meeting with a potential ally… or enemy.
Reese, the Queens boy, he looks at me after awhile and he can tell I haven't been listening.
"Where's Snoddy?" He asks. I hadn't told him much.
"His girl is sick," I say, then add, "real sick," and I make sure that the look in my eyes silences any side comments he would have had.
"Well… alright. Send him here later, yeah? When she's better."
I just nod and leave, silent. I think that maybe he understands.
---
That night both Snoddy and Rita meet the rest of us outside the Lodging House - he never takes her in, old Kloppman would have a fit at the site of a girl - so we could all go to Medda's together. Snoddy and I walk with Rita in between us, and the other boys and their girls make an effort to talk to Rita. Their voices are strained, and she can tell, but I'm glad that they are trying.
In the theatre we sit the same way, Rita sandwiched in between Snoddy and I. I spend a lot of the performance stealing looks at her, the intense redness of her lips and the glint of her eyes when she smiles. These two features are in stark contrast with the rest of her face, which is pale and gray and bruised. One time she looks over too and holds my gaze for a few seconds. I look away first, though, and blush, and attempt to watch the show for the rest of the time. I cannot meet her eyes for the rest of the night, even when she talks to me.
-
Our group sees their girls off at their various places of living as we work our way home, and when we get to Rita's boarding house we all watch as she leads Snoddy up the stairs with a sly smile. The boys hoot and holler like usual and those of us that remain go back to the Lodging House and set up the upstairs for our usual game of quiet cards. We've long since realized that Kloppman doesn't bother us if we don't bother him.
I'm not feeling up to anything, but I join in for a few hands mainly because it would be a little strange if I didn't. There is the usual amount of swearing and cheating and lewd jokes before anything catches my ear. It's Racetrack, and he's looking at me from under that greasy mop of hair, cigar hanging out of the corner of his smirk.
"Wonder when Snoddy'll get back," he says, and elbows Swifty, who smiles his quick smile. The others around the table snicker and laugh quietly and I smile, too. It's normal.
"Dontcha think it's a little strange, though?" Race continues, his voice dropping so everyone around him leans involuntarily closer. "Screwin' with a dead bird?"
And everyone laughs at this, even Swifty, who follows it up with some kind of comment about the only type of lay Snoddy can get. But my blood is boiling, and I throw down my cards. That quiets everyone. I look Racetrack straight in the eye, and remind him very calmly that she's not dead yet. He looks like he can't decide whether to be ashamed or to defend his position. But Race isn't the type of guy to be ashamed of himself.
"Close enough," he mumbles, but he can't meet my eyes when he says this. I leave the table and go to bed, lying in my bunk and staring at the wall with only the hushed sound of bets and awkward silence to keep me company.
---
We go to the park again and walk for awhile, and she just talks and talks and talks. She looks a little better, energetic, and full of smiles for me and everyone we pass by. She tells me about her mother and her dead sister and her fears and her dreams and not once does death or illness enter the conversation. She talks a lot about Snoddy; I listen as she shows me through words how she views him, and I say nothing. To her he is a god. But he is in Queens. And while I can stand here and brace her shoulders while she stops talking and begins to cough, he is the only one who can help her to forget about why she is coughing.
When she is done she resumes our conversation and tells me how much she loves him, so I give her a smile of my own. What I am really thinking, though, is that there is no reason for Snoddy not to be in my place.
---
Snoddy has to meet with people because nobody trusts him. And nobody trusts him because nobody knows him. To them, he was the nameless boy selling papers who just… appeared. He never had any sort of a reputation before he stepped forward.
It had taken Jack awhile to gain any sort of trust, it had really taken the strike to secure it. Then he had up and left, and the rest of the boroughs and other areas around the city didn't like the idea of having to adjust to another new force.
So Snoddy was making a huge effort to remain on everyone's good side. To get to know everyone and get our section of Manhattan running smoothly and happily again. Because of this, he didn't think he had any time to focus on anything else. I knew better.