8

Duddy phoned Yvette to tell her about Lennie. “That means I won’t be in today,” he said.

Yvette said she’d like to go to Ste. Agathe for a couple of days. The notary wanted to see her and it was her brother’s birthday tomorrow.

“Sure thing. Just call the telephone answering service before you go. If you’re short there must be at least thirty bucks in the petty cash.”

“I can live on my salary,” Yvette said in that special cold voice.

Those dames, Duddy thought, there’s no need for them to tell you when they’ve got the curse. “Have a nice trip,” he said, and hanging up he added, “Ver gerharget.”

College kids, Duddy discovered, do not get up too early. He loitered longer than an hour in Hillel House before he saw a familiar face. It was nice there, but he couldn’t relax: he was worried that he was sitting in somebody else’s chair or that his fly might be undone. Some girls in cashmere sweaters drifted in and there was a sweet-looking boy with a pipe. Duddy began to whistle and one of the girls raised an eyebrow. “It’s from Carmen,” said, clearing his throat. Then he saw Riva. She wore a McGill blazer. “Riva,” he said, “I’ve got to speak to you for a minute.”

Riva looked surprised.

“I’m Lennie Kravitz’s kid brother. Remember?” Duddy explained that Lennie was home sick in bed. Nothing serious, mind you, but his father was worried, and Duddy wanted to know if she had noticed anything odd about him recently. “Bothering him like.”

“We move in different circles these days.”

Riva, he gathered, was going to Tel Aviv to teach school once she graduated from McGill. “That’s a fine ambition,” he said, “but what about Lennie?”

“He’s become an assimilationist.”

“Wha’?”

“You never see him at Hillel any more. Jewish boys and girls aren’t good enough for him. It’s a disgrace, honestly. Every time they take him into one of their frat houses he practically licks their boots.”

Riva was late for Eng. 1 and had to run. She couldn’t meet him later, either. She was busy.

“Duddy! Duddy Kravitz!”

“Bernie!”

“Boy, is it ever good to see you.”

“Yeah,” Duddy said. “No kidding?”

“You’re a big business success. I’ve heard all about you. Congratulations.”

“Aw.”

“Never mind. One day I’ll be saying I knew him when.”

“You’ll saying that? Gwan. You’re getting a real education. You’re going to be an architect.”

“What are you doing here?”

Duddy repeated the story he had told Riva. He said he was anxious to find out anything he could about Lennie’s life at McGill.

“Well,” Bernie said, “I knew I’d never get to that sociology class. Come around the corner with me. We’ll have a coffee.”

They joked for a while about the old days at the hotel before Bernie got serious. “Look,” he said, “I don’t want to interfere. Lennie minds his own business and he’s entitled to choose his own friends.”

“Give,” Duddy said.

Bernie told Duddy that Lennie had a rep for being a plugger. He had never been very popular but nobody had really disliked him either. He had hardly been noticed, in fact, until he began to take out Riva. She was a popular number, a bit flighty, and soon Lennie was seen at parties with her everywhere. “He was crazy about her,” Bernie said. “Unfortunately Riva liked to dance close with all the boys and she wasn’t beyond a little friendly necking, if you caught her in the right mood. Lennie didn’t go for that. He began to cut in on all of Riva’s dances. Once, at a party I was at, he caught her fooling around with one of the guys in the upstairs hall and later I found him sitting on the steps outside. He’d been crying. His nerves were all shot. I really think that guy studies too hard.”

“Anatomy’s the big killer,” Duddy said.

“Anyway things went from bad to worse and one night they had a fight at a party. He was hysterical. I think it was just after the mid-terms and he looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks… Well, he called her lots of ugly names. Everybody was there and he yelled things at her he shouldn’t have.”

“Like what?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you all this, Duddy… Well, you know…”

“He isn’t sick in bed. He’s run away from home.” Duddy told him about the note. “Like what?” he asked.

“Like Outremont whore. Daughter of a war profiteer. Well, you know. The works. Up to that point everyone was on his side. But you know it wasn’t Riva’s fault that he was so serious about her. She’s flighty. I told you that. But she’s got a good sense of humor and everybody likes her. You want the gory details?”

“Yeah.”

“She slapped his face. Then Lennie began to call everyone in the room dirty names. Well, you know. We weren’t such big shots just because we had cars and he was as good as any of us… He tried to pick a fight with Shelby Horne and then he took a poke at me. Christ, he’s even skinnier than you are. I could have laid him flat with one whack. Anyway we got him home — What are you going to do, Duddy? Have you any idea where he’s gone to?”

“Not yet.”

“Only three Jewish kids got into med in his year. A lot of people are expecting him to get the medal. Christ.”

“Tell me the rest, Bernie. I’m sure there’s more.”

“Well, you know, he dropped out of sight for a while. Then the next thing I’d heard he’d picked up with the Joe College bunch. The football crowd. Well, you know, drink chug-a-lug and all that. Listen, everyone’s entitled to enjoy themselves the way they want. It’s not for me, that’s all. They’re mostly rich kids, Duddy. Goys. of them live in Westmount but most come from out of town and have rooms in the frat houses. They run sports cars and get the prettiest girls. Well, you know, the campus beauty queens. I don’t know how Lennie ever got mixed up with them. I can understand about Irwin Shubert, but —”

“Irwin! That bastard.”

“He’s the only other Jew in their crowd. It costs plenty to keep up with them and I don’t know where Lennie got the money.”

“There was a broad, wasn’t there? A blonde.”

“Sandra Calder? That’s something else that used to puzzle me. I’ve seen her around a lot with Lennie recently, but she’s really Andy Simpson’s girl. Everybody knows that. Andy’s made the Olympic hockey team.”

Duddy got up.

“What are you going to do?” Bernie asked.

“First I’m going to see the girl. She’s sick at home. What I want to find out is if she’s sick like I said Lennie was sick. Maybe they eloped?”

Bernie whistled. “If they eloped you can stop worrying. Old Man Calder is a millionaire. He’s on the Board of Governors at McGill.”

Westmount was where the truly rich lived in stone mansions driven like stakes into the shoulder of the mountain. The higher you climbed up splendid tree-lined streets the thicker the ivy, the more massive the mansion, and the more important the man inside. Mr. Calder’s place was almost at the top. “Jeez,” Duddy said aloud, getting out of his car. He had been in Westmount before in the taxi but usually at night and never this high up. Below, the city and the river hummed obligingly under a still cloud of factory fumes. What a site for a restaurant, Duddy thought. Looking up at the Calder house again, he wondered what the bastard did with all those rooms. Maybe he’s got eighteen kids, he thought. A Catholic like.

“Yes.”

The butler was a British movie sprung to life.

“I’d like to see Sandra.”

The butler told him that she was indisposed.

“It’s important. I’m one of her best friends.”

“I’m so sorry, but the doctor’s with her right now. If you’d like to leave a message…”

Duddy thought of slipping the butler a fin. That, he thought, is what the Falcon would have done.

“Is there any message?” the butler asked sharply.

Duddy retreated a step. “Naw. Thanks anyway. I’ll call again.”

As the door closed gently on him Duddy began to curse himself. What’s the matter with me, he thought. I should have insisted. There was a Bentley parked in the driveway. An Austin Healey too. The third car had a doctor’s license plate on it. Well, that proves something anyway, Duddy thought, and he drove off.

The office was lonely without Yvette. Duddy locked the door and got out the map of Lac St. Pierre. Twice already he had filled in with red crayon the land that used to belong to Brault. His land. He started to go over it with crayon again when the phone rang.

“I thought you were out looking for Lennie?”

“I just got in this minute, Daddy. There’s no news yet. I’m seeing more people tonight but.”

Seigal phoned. “About the movie,” he said, “the goy here again today to look over the house. Not only did he drink up all my Johnnie Walker, but he tried to get my Selma to sit on his lap. She’s only seventeen.”

“Artists are like children,” Duddy said.

“It was Black Label. The best. He wrote a dirty poem to her too. It’s called, quote, Advice to Virgins to Make Much of Time, unquote. It —”

“That verse might be worth a lot of money some day,” Duddy said. “If I were you I’d hold on to it.” But he promised to be there next time Mr. Friar came.

Duddy met Bernie at nine and they went to the bar where the students gathered. At one table boys and girls drank beer and sang and at another a long thin Negro sat with a girl who wore slacks. The girl had dirty fingernails.

“Steve,” Bernie said, “this is Duddy Kravitz. He’s Lennie’s brother. Steve takes a lot of classes with Lennie.”

“What happened to Lennie today?”

“He’s at home sick. Nothing serious, mind you.”

“Just a nervous breakdown,” Steve said.

“That’s a joke, Duddy,” Bernie said.

“A joke? We’ve had two already this term. Three others have dropped out.”

“He’s teasing you,” Bernie said.

“Is it Leonard Kravitz talking about?” the girl asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“He’s a suicidal type, isn’t he, Steve?”

“Oh, you’re a pair,” Bernie said. “A real pair.”

“Did he say we’re a pair?”

“I think so. One minute I’ll ask him. Did you say we’re a pair?”

“His brother’s sick. Can’t you see he’s worried?”

“I think what he’s trying to say is that this guy’s brother is sick.”

“The pair type?”

“I’m not sure. One minute. Bernard, you were saying —”

“Oh, that’s I thought Bernard had committed suicide.”

“Come on, Duddy,” Bernie said, and he hurried him outside. They got into the car and drove off. Duddy didn’t speak. He chained-smoked.

“You’re driving very fast,” Bernie said.

“I think I’d better take you home, Bernie.” What a time for Yvette to be away, he thought. The bitch. “I’m going home too. My father must be worried sick by this time.” Duddy thanked Bernie for all he’d done and promised to ring him as soon as he had any news. “Good or bad,” he said morosely.

“Maybe he’s home right now,” Bernie said.

But Lennie wasn’t there.

“Where in the hell have you been all this time?” Max asked.

“At the movies. O.K.?”

“Oh, you’re in that kind of mood. That’s all I need.” Max pulled his backscratcher out of the drawer. “How the zeyda out about all this I’ll never know. But he wants you to call him tomorrow. My word he won’t take.”

“I need some coffee.”

“O.K. Sit down before you fall down. You’re white as a sheet. Boy, have you ever got a lousy build. Why don’t you ever use my weight lifts any more?”

“Tomorrow.”

“A guy’s got to keep in shape, you know. This world is full of shits. When you meet one and he gives you a shove you want to be strong enough to shove him back. Right?”

“Right.”

“O.K.,” Max said, “now tell me what you found out today.”

Duddy omitted the part about suicide. He didn’t say anything about Lennie’s fight with Riva, either.

“That Altman sounds like a prince of a fella,” Max said.

“He sure is. Oh, another thing. They expect Lennie to win the medal. A lot of people think he’ll come first.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Don’t worry, Daddy. We’ll find him and he’ll go back to school.”

“Maybe Lennie’ll turn out to be the guy who finds the cure for cancer?”

“Another Pasteur.”

“Bigger. Wow, the cure for cancer.”

Duddy rose and rubbed his eyes. “Tomorrow I’m going to try to see the Calder girl again. There’s also this Andy Simpson guy.”

“That would be a big thing for the Jews. One of ours finding the cancer cure. Aw, they’d still make us trouble.”

“I’d better call Uncle Benjy before I go to sleep. I promised.”

“Don’t waste your time. He’s asleep on the sofa in the living room. Benjy’s going to be a real catch for the A.A. one of these days. He can go through a bottle of Scotch quicker than I can drink a Pepsi.”

“What kind of signals were you trying to give me last night?”

“One minute.” Max tiptoed into the hall and shut the living room door. “It would be a good idea if you didn’t mention Auntie Ida to him for a while.”

“Why?”

“She was supposed to stay here for two months. She only got here yesterday afternoon, you know. They had a big row right off and, wham, she left for Florida again the same night.”

“You think she asked him for a divorce?”

“Maybe. I dunno. Imagine not being able to get it up. Ever, I mean.”

“I’m dead, Daddy. I’m going to sleep.”

“He can’t even get into the States any more. That’s what he gets for being such a smart guy.”

“Wha’?”

“Listen, there wasn’t a petition invented that Uncle Benjy didn’t sign in triplicate. They don’t want commies there these days. You blame them?”

“Good night. Go to sleep, Daddy.”

Duddy lay on his bed with his eyes open. The police would have reported it, he thought. What if he jumped in the canal? A could stay under for two-three days. Oh, no, Duddy thought, please. You’re crazy.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

“Naw. Sit down, Uncle Benjy.”

Duddy repeated the story he had told his father. “I’m going to try to see the girl tomorrow,” he said.

“You’re holding something back. I’m not your father. I want to know all the facts.”

Duddy jerked awake. “Why don’t you lay off my father for a change? It hasn’t been easy for him all alone since my mother died.”

“He told you that?” Uncle Benjy asked, smiling a little.

“Never mind.”

A car slowed down outside. Duddy rushed to the window, but it passed.

“Do you think he’s committed suicide?”

“Shettup,” Duddy said.

“I see. It’s been eating you too.”

“Lennie hasn’t committed suicide. He’s not the type.”

“There’s no such thing as the type. You’d be surprised at the people…”

Aunt Ida, Duddy thought. She’s tried it, I’m sure. Duddy searched his uncle’s fat funny face in the darkness. The heavy bloodshot eyes returned the look coldly. “You were saying?” he asked.

“It’s a possibility. Let’s face it.”

“He took all his clothes,” Duddy said.

“That’s true.”

Duddy yawned.

“You want to sleep. I’ll go.”

“What were you trying to tell me about my mother before?”

“Nothing. Good night.”

“He couldn’t have killed himself. It’s impossible.”

“I hope so, Duddele.”

“Good night.”

“When I was a boy in your zeyda’s Uncle Benjy said, “I used to say my prayers before I went to sleep. He used to come in and listen and then he’d kiss me. That was a long time ago.”

“Why are you such a boozer, Uncle Benjy?”

“Good night and God bless.”

Uncle Benjy lurched towards the door. Outside, he belched.