Freement by William James Johnson Chapter 5

The piercing wind of the December night chilled me to the bone as I trudged along the highway in the dark. In my confused state of mind, I hardly noticed the weight of the suitcase that banged against the side of my leg. Thoughts of what had just happened kept me from freezing. If only I could've gone home and talked it over with dad. But what's the use. He wouldn't have believed me. It would've been like old times; dad punishing me because I'd said something bad about a priest. No it was better that I go someplace else, on my own... Chathurst maybe.
Freezing in the blowing snow, as I trudged along, I thought of the moral values I had been taught as a boy. Somehow they lost their meaning. There's no such thing as good or bad when a man who is in the position of a spiritual leader can be so corrupt. I could still feel his hand touching me... embarrassing me. His actions made me think of what I had done with little Ruthy when I had given her a bath. That was an accident. It wasn't like it was with this man who knew full well what he was doing. God! Where were you, when I needed you.
The 1ights of the huge transport almost blinded me as I waved for a lift. Suddenly I heard him gear down, and the air brakes strangled the heavy wheels, tossing snow and gravel on the side of the highway. I ran as fast as I could on my numb legs.
"Get in before you freeze to death." The driver reached down and grabbed my suitcase and I wouldn't let go.
"I'm ,just going to toss it in back so you can have some leg room."
"Thanks a lot for stopping. Hitch hiking's pretty deadly tonight."
"Yeah. This ain't much of a road for rides. You should have got on route 7. You're chances would've been better."
"Now that I'm in out of the cold this suits me fine."
"You sure picked a helluva night to be on the road. I couldn't see you until I was practically on top of you."
As the warmness tingled through my body I wondered if I had done the right thing. Maybe if I had told Brother Philip he could've fixed things up. I'm sure they would've given me a chance to stay if I'd asked for it. But I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get away.
"How far you going?"
"Huh?"
"I asked how far you going?"
"Oh! Chathurst. I thought I'd try to get a job there."
I felt awkward about the way he looked at me. I was afraid if he pressed further I'd tell him the whole thing and I didn't want anyone to know.
"You feeling okay?"
"Yeah... I'm okay now. I was sure cold."
"What's the matter? Running away from home?'!
I decided if I told him I was leaving home he might stop prying.
"What happened? Fight with the old man?"
"Yeah. We've never been able to see eye to eye."
"Well don't worry kid. It'll work out. I had a fight with my old man when I was your age. I ran away and joined the Navy."
His frankness was comforting. Our conversation helped me to take my mind off other things.
"Don't make the mistake I did. Keep to hell outa the service. If you gotta go to war, wait until they come and get ya."
He told me about his problems as a boy. I guess most young guys have conflicts at home which eventually result in going it alone. It's part of growing up.
We arrived in Chathurst early in the morning. The sun was trying to cut through the low hanging frost that bound the buildings together. The streets of this big city had not come to life as yet. Its tall buildings hovered like giant tombstones.
The sound of the diesel engine pierced the silence, echoing and re-echoing ahead of us.
Chathurst was an industrial city. Automobiles, steel, and chemicals were made there. It had its snob hill, and its skid row. As we passed a beautiful park, with massive sandstone buildings north of the city, the driver told me it was the
University of Chathurst.
We stopped outside an all night restaurant and he let me out. He continued to the market, where his truck would be unloaded. I was on my own again.
The smell of coffee drifting above the grill invigorated me for a moment, but the heat of the small eatery made my limbs feel tired. It was a few minutes past six. I slumped into a booth and ordered a coffee. My eyes were scratchy from lack of sleep and I rubbed them, noticing my fuzzy reflection in the steamed covered window. I stalled drinking my coffee, knowing full well, I would have to venture out into the morning dampness which seeped through to one's marrow.
Daylight was breaking fast. I ordered another coffee and told the cook to hold it until I finished in the washroom. Splashing cold water on my face refreshed me. Returning to my booth, there was a discarded evening newspaper on the seat
opposite me. I searched the ads for a place to live, unsure of how to make a selection. I chose one that had a furnished room for seven dollars a week. At least I had the first week's rent. I still had the ten dollars my father had given me. I asked the cook where 417 Davin Street was. It was about nine blocks from the restaurant, near the automobile factory. I paid him, and went out into the nippy morning air.
Exhausted by the time I arrived at the rooming house, I saw it was a sooty grey from years of neglect and factory pollution. A sign in the window read, "Rooms for Rent, by Day or Week". It was a large house, like the one in Amston.
I was reluctant to go inside. The front door was unlocked, so I entered quietly. The inside hall was dark. Across the back wall of the hall was a partly opened door. Pushing it open further, I went in. There was the smell of someone sleeping, filling the room. Standing beside a rumpled bed, I looked down on a middle-aged woman, who was breathing loudly and deeply, emitting a faint wine odour.
Not wishing to startle her, I cleared my throat and waited. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. Impatient from fatigue, I touched her on the shoulder.
"Pardon me lady. Could I see that room you have for rent?"
She opened her puffy eyes, and squinted at me in the darkened room.
"Huh...what the hell you doin in here?"
"Mam. About the room for rent?"
She suddenly jumped up, wrapping a blanket around the slip she was wearing.
"Get out...get out of my bedroom or I'll call the police."
"But lady. I'm exhausted. All I want to do is rent a room. I saw your ad in the paper."
"Oh yeah...that room I got."
She came closer and took a careful look at me.
"Jesus, you're only a kid. Gawd you gave me a helluva scare. At first I thought you were that bastard husband of mine who took off a long time ago." Her breath was heavy with the stale smell of wine. I was ready to drop. I interrupted her chattering.
"You still got that room for rent?"
"Sure...you want it, it'll be seven bucks...in advance."
I gave her the money.
"Why don't you take your things off here and use my bed and I'll get your room fixed up for you. I don't usually get such a quick reply to my ads."
This tangled bed, saturated by the penetrating smell of body odour did not appeal to me, but I was so tired, I agreed. Together we straightened the sheets, and she puffed up the pillows. Wrapping a faded chenille robe around her, she left.
As I pulled the covers over me, I could still feel the heat of her body. Over tired, the images of those two men in their black cassocks, threatened me. My chest still hurt where the rector had struck me. I vowed to get even with them someday. It
wasn't just them I hated. I despised everything that hemmed in my mind. The face of my father forced its way into my nightmare. I could hear him saying, "If I ever get my hands on him, I'll kill that little sonofabitch." What was even worse, the poor man
thought he knew how to bring up kids. The dreaming finally stopped. I became unconscious of everything; the school, my father, and this room.
Several hours later I was wakened abruptly by the coarse voice of my newly acquired landlady.
"What the hell you trying to do. sleep your life away? It's seven o'clock at night. You've been sawing' em off all day. Or do you figure if you stay in that bed long enough, I might join you. Well if that's your thinking, I got a real surprise for you. I hate men."
Focussing my eyes on her, I could see she didn't look as frowsy as she had when we met this morning. My stomach was growling with hunger pains.
"Well you gonna, just sit there staring at me, or are you gonna get outa here, so's I can get some rest?"
"What day is it Mam?"
"Damned if you don't sound like me when I've had a rough night. I don't want you to get the wrong idea I drink a lot. I just don't see anything wrong with takin' a social drink. Now you... take that bastard I married..."
"Please lady. Would you answer my question?"
I was to learn that she loved talking about her husband and resented being interrupted when she was on a roll.
"It's Thursday, and has been all day."
"Thank you. Now if you'll be so kind as to leave and let me get some clothes on, I'll clear out of your room."
She remained standing by the bed. "What's your name kid? We didn't actually get introduced this morning."
I was going to give her a phony name, but then I realized my own name wouldn't mean anything to her.
"John Martindale...and you?"
"Agnes Conway. Just call me Aggie."
The room I had rented was small, and there was that ever present lived-in smell. On the old fashioned brass bed was a beat out mattress that had only one direction, downwards and towards the centre. The dresser had a mirror with a crack across the corner. The window blind was dark green with frayed edges. What I
thought was a closet door, led to a side porch. The musty closet in the room was covered with old newspapers and magazines. This was to be my new home.
Starving, I headed for the centre of town. The stores were still opened, catering to Christmas shoppers. At a large department store called "Harold's", there was a great mass of pushing people. Harold must've been delighted. I pushed my way through to one of the counters and asked where Harold was.
"Do you mean Mr. Silverman?" His attitude was condescending.
"Is he the boss?"
"Mr. Silverman owns Harold's, if that's what you mean."
People were pushing to get at this clerk. I asked again, more politely.
"Could you please tell me how to get to Mr. Silverman's office?"
He pointed to an office which was located behind a counter used by the customers to check out their purchases. I could see this man liked to be near the heart of his business. I went behind the counter, and knocked on the door.
"Come in." Harold looked very business like with tight curly hair and
glasses, examining a ledger.
"Yes young man. What can I do for you?"
"I need a job sir. I'd like to work in your store."
"Have you had any experience as a sales clerk?"
"No sir. But I'm willing to learn."
"You'll have to dress better than that if you expect to work for Harold's. Do you have a good suit at home?"
"This is all I have Mr. Silverman. But if you would let me buy one of your suits, I'll pay you so much a week out of my salary."
"You've got spunk young man. I like that. That's how you get ahead in this world. I haven't even hired you yet, and already you're talking about how you're going to spend your salary. What's your name son?"
"John Martindale."
"Well Mr. Martindale, you've got yourself a job. It pays nineteen dollars a week and ten per cent off any merchandise in the store. How does that sound to you?"
I extended my hand and accepted the meagre offering. The clerk in Men's Furnishings helped me select a brown suit for working in the store. With my discount it came to thirty-nine dollars. I agreed to pay seven dollars a week. After paying my rent this would leave me with five dollars a week for food. It meant I would be living on hamburgers and coffee. In those days a hamburger with all the trimmings cost a dime, and all the coffee you could drink was a nickel.
Now that I had a job, I splurged. At Kresges I ate three hot dogs, and drank a couple of root beers. This was all I had eaten since leaving Amston. Roaming through the streets of the great city, I carried the box with my new suit under my arm. I had no idea Chathurst was so large.
The job of sales clerk would not have been so cumbersome if I had not had to share the same counter with Silverman's son. He constantly bugged me with details. He briefed me on the different sizes in shirt collars and sleeve lengths. We sold the numerous odds and ends that complete a man's personal ensemble. Our department was one of the most popular in the store because our items were in the price range that most people cared to pay for gifts.
The long hours of standing bothered me most. Young Silverman often criticized me for leaning on the counter instead of standing up straight, looking sharp. He was grooming himself to take over the business when his father passed on.
It was at Harold's that I met Judy. She was a lovely Jewish girl who worked in the cosmetic department. She had come to our department to do some Christmas shopping. Old Mr. Silverman encouraged the staff to buy in their own store.
"Hi. Where's David?"
She wore a form fitting black rayon dress which glistened like her black hair. Her eye makeup was professionally exquisite. She had extended her lipstick slightly in the corners of her mouth to give more dimension to her radiant smile.
"Dave's in the stockroom. May I help you?"
"You're new here aren't you?"
"Been here a week. I've seen you though. You're in cosmetics."
"That's right. I'm Judy. And you?"
"John...John Martindale."
She was a few years older than me. The more we spoke, the easier it became. She was exceptionally beautiful. She stopped talking and looked at her watch.
"Oh goodness. My lunch hour is almost up. I'd better get back to work. Don't bother telling David I was here. It wasn't that important. See you around."
While we were cleaning up after closing the store, without thinking I told David about Judy.
"Who told you her name?" His tone was demanding.
"She told me, that's who. Why? What's it to you?"
"Keep to hell away from her, you understand."
He was becoming more hostile by the minute. I had been pushed around enough. I wasn't going to let a snotty Jew-boy have his licks at me now.
"I'll talk to anyone I choose and I don‘t need your advice, or anybody else's."
He threw down the broom he was using, and huffed away sulking. I didn't know she was his girl. He hadn't said anything, and even if he had, that still wasn't going to keep me from seeing more of her.
I changed my coffee break to correspond with Judy's who used to frequent Kresges across the street from Harold's. The clerk who had switched with me gave me a warning.
"You're asking for trouble you start mixing it up with Silverman's girl. There's plenty sharp dollies you could play with without sticking your neck out."
"I know...,but I think she cares for me. And she's so...nice. If Dave wants me to keep away from her, why doesn't he put a ring on her finger."
Judy and I had a coke and she let me know in no uncertain terms she'd like to go out with me if only things were different. I was sure she would be with me if she could be sure no one would find out.
As Christmas approached, the crowds at Harold's got bigger. Judy and I had no chance to be together. We exchanged waves when I would go to the stockroom to bring out more supplies. It looked like the Silverman family were going to have a good Christmas.
We were so busy selling, that we ran out of size 15 shirts. I told Dave about it.
"Don't come to me with your problems. You've been here long enough to know you shouldn't let your stock run low. Go on back and get some more."
He didn't like it when I walked away while he was speaking, but he had made his point and I was tired of listening to him ramble on. The trip to the stockroom gave me a chance to pass Judy's counter again. I discovered we were all out of size
15 flannelette shirts. I returned to the front and told Dave. He pulled me aside and whispered.
"Take a pair of scissors back with you and manufacture some fifteens."
"You trying to make a fool outa me?"
Seeing I was annoyed by his suggestion he explained. "We've got lots of size 151/2 shirts back there. Take some scissors and cut off the half size marking on the tag, and bring the shirts up front. Do a lot of them. We can get rid of those
extra 151/2s we've got."
"But that's cheating Dave. When a guy buys a shirt, he expects it to fit."
"Stop your arguing, and do as you're told. The shirts will shrink when they're washed anyway."
I hated to admit it. The kid had the makings.
When I passed Judy this time, she didn't wave, but nodded. Amongst the tall shelves in the back of the store, I began making size 15 shirts. It was dark in the back room, and I took my time.
"Hi John. Going into business for yourself?"
As she stood at the front of the aisle of shelves, the scent of the girl from the perfume counter wafted over the clothing.
"Hi Judy. What're you doing here?"
"Thought I'd come back and see you instead of going out for coffee. You know how Mr. Silverman frowns on staff talking to each other out front."
"Which Mr. Silverman? The father or the son?"
"What do you mean by that?" Her breast brushed lightly against my arm. I wanted to embrace her, and enjoy her softness.
"I never told you but Dave threatened me because of you. He is really a jealous lover.
"What's with you two anyway?"
"Oh David and I have had dates. My parents would like me to marry him someday. After all, this whole business is going to be his. And besides, he's Jewish."
"Do you love him?"
"David is too selfish. The only one he loves is David Silverman. I'd rather go out with a nice looking fellow like you Johnny. You're not Jewish are you?"
"No I'm not Jewish. Does that make a difference?"
"It would make a difference as far as my parents are concerned, but it doesn't make any difference to me."
She put her arm on my shoulder and the dim light in the stockroom came to life in her deep brown eyes. I couldn't hold off any longer. She was offering herself to me. My arms folded around her and I felt her wonderful body take the shape of mine. Her mouth was so warm and inviting. She moved herself against me, letting me know she liked what was happening to me. Our intimacy was interrupted by the angry voice of David Silverman.
"So that's what we pay you for. Get to hell outa the way Judy and let me at this bastard."
His blow caught me on the side of the head, and knocked me to the floor. I could hear Judy shouting I had made her do it. She was making a desperate try to hold onto her little Jew-boy. I came up from the floor and buried my fist into the mid-section of young Silverman and followed it with two fast punches to his face. He fell in a heap between the shelves of stock boxes. Judy ran to him and knelt beside him crying that I had forced her into my arms and that she loved only him.
My head was throbbing from his blow, as I hurried to the front of the store. My new brown suit was all covered with dirt from the stockroom floor. I pushed my way into the office of Mr. Silverman. He was shocked to see my dishevelled appearance.
"I've just had a fight in the stockroom with your son, over his little bitch from the perfume counter. I'm quitting before you get the chance to fire me. Take the money that's coming to me and put it on this suit you sold me. If there's anymore owing on it, send your kid out back to manufacture some more shirts in the popular sizes. It wont take you long to make it up."
He never spoke a word. He just looked at me in stunned amazement.
I left the store and went home. Aggie heard me come in. There wasn't much she missed.
"What're you doing home so early?" Coming closer, she saw the bruise on the side of my head.
"What the hell. You been fighting?..did you win?"
I nodded yes.
"Come in the kitchen and let me put some ice on it for you."
Aggie liked drinking cooking sherry. There was a partly filled glass on the cupboard as we went into the kitchen.
"I'm using it to make us a nice Christmas cake. You're going to spend Christmas with us aren't you?"
"I've got no place else to go. And now I haven't even got a job."
"Don't you worry about nothin. I'll look after you till you get yourself another job. You shouldn't have gone to work for those goddamn Jews in the first place. They'll cheat you every time."
I never told her how I had brought about a lot of this on my own. Aggie had already made up her mind who was to blame. Who was I to shake her prejudice.
Aggie was crude, but there was something about her I liked. I began to enjoy living in this old house and I liked the people in it.

View original art by William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com