Some Came Running by James Jones

Author:James Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780440182610
Publisher: Dell Publishing Company
Published: 1958-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 44

WHEN DAVE HIRSH WOKE the next morning at nearly noon, it was to a head like a pumpkin squash. For a while, he just lay and stared at the ceiling. About the last thing he remembered was that, after about everybody else had gone, everybody except Dewey and them, he, too, had taken the lumpish Ginnie Moorehead upstairs. What had he been? the third? or the fourth in the line. ’Bama had been upstairs in his own room with one of the others. It was amazing how that guy could keep them all coming back without making any of them jealous, Dave thought and rolled over in the bed while his head congested with blood. El host! he thought with sour disgust, God! and was stricken with a kind of dull terror at the knowledge that he would get no work done this day. Not the way he felt. When he finally struggled downstairs, it was to find ’Bama in shoes and socks, underwear and hat, already cleaning up the mess with a fresh glass of whiskey and water where he could reach it.

“We gonna have to get us a damn cleanin woman for this place, that’s all,” the Southerner drawled.

Dave sank down in a chair. “Sure is a mess, ain’t it?”

“Well, it won’t never be this bad again. And they done pretty well; after I made my little speech. Just the same, we got to get a cleanin woman. Only, who the hell can we git?”

“What about Dewey’s mother?” Dave said. “She might.”

“Yeah, I reckon. But she’s such a gossipy mean old broad.”

“By God, I know who!” Dave said; “Jane! Old Jane Staley!”

“Why, shore,” ’Bama grinned. “Now why didn’t I think of that? We’ll have to see her.

“Come on, give me a hand and we’ll get this straightened out.”

“I can’t,” Dave groaned, and put his head down in his hands. “Damn it, I just can’t.”

’Bama stopped what he was doing. “What’s the matter?” he said. “Got a head?”

“Oh, the hell with it,” Dave said, and looked up with pain-tautened eyes. “Yeah, I got one. But that’s not what the matter. I— ’Bama, I haven’t done a lick of work—not a damned lick!—in over a month now!” he cried. “A month! And now I can’t work today!”

’Bama set down the ashtrays he was holding and sat down on the divan, holding his drink. His whole face was as alert and cautious as if he were in a big poker hand. “I’ve kind of figured this was maybe comin,” he said and took a drink.

How he could do it, Dave had no idea. Day after day, bottle after bottle. And it never made him sick, it never made his brain dull, it never seemed to affect him in any way at all.

“What am I gonna do?” he said almost hysterically. “I’ve got to get back to work! And I can’t!! My head’s like a rotten punkin!”

“Well now, let’s just take it sensible,” ’Bama said. “Yore sort of one of them tempermental types, Dave.

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