It Was Like a Life, I Guess

By Thomas McGovern

Sixteen short stories by Thomas McGovern:

As Far as Tulsa / Dealing at the “Dove” / Winesburg, New Jersey / A Counseling Life / The Comedian / The Suit Coat / A Festive Occasion / Of Love and Local Color / The Wisdom of the Turk / The Girl Who Didn’t Marry Clark Gable (1. At Home / 2. Rectory / 3. Rectory, Home) / Faculty Room Imbroglio / The Education of James P. Mulvaney (A Vocation Lost and Found) / In This Corner / Time of the Wangels / Mensch / Women and Some Philosophers

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Fenton
• Release date: Jul 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370450732

Book preview

It Was Like a Life, I Guess

Short Stories by Thomas McGovern

© 2017 Thomas McGovern. All rights reserved.

Contents

As Far as Tulsa

Dealing at the Dove

Winesburg, New Jersey

A Counseling Life

The Comedian

The Suit Coat

A Festive Occasion

Of Love and Local Color

The Wisdom of the Turk

The Girl Who Didn’t Marry Clark Gable

1. At Home

2. Rectory

3. Rectory, Home

Faculty Room Imbroglio

The Education of James P. Mulvaney (A Vocation Lost and Found)

In This Corner

Time of the Wangels

Mensch

Women and Some Philosophers

As Far as Tulsa

Early on a pleasant summer evening, an evening he would subsequently call magical, William Heffernon, a tall young man with a nicely tanned, not unpleasant face, was walking about the city—strolling might be the better word—with no specific destination, preoccupied, looking at everything but noticing little, sometimes singing bits of a song, imitating contemporary crooners, Sinatra, and Tony Bennett, he wanted one day (what fantasy: he had no voice) to emulate.

Then, turning a corner, he came upon, to his dismay, a sidewalk crowded with students from his own high school, twosomes for the most part. Fortunately he had not been singing.

The entire crowd seemed to be engaged in lively and wildly gestured conversation. Too late to turn back, William lowered his head modestly and picked a way carefully between the couples. He had almost gained his freedom when someone—a girl’s voice—called William. It was obviously not for him. But when he continued moving, that same voice called again; this time with a note of irritation. Looking back, he saw an attractive girl, named Evelyn, arm upraised, beckoning to him. In fact there seemed to be two Evelyns in front of Myers, because when one of them left her position at the window, the other Evelyn, more ephemeral, turned and disappeared into the neon-blaze of the plate glass.

Are you deaf? she asked, having made a quick, slithering passage through the crowd. She looked up at him, obviously annoyed. Even now, he did not quite believe in the reality of this most unusual encounter. There had to be a mistake. Why would anyone so petitely pretty with shining black hair, shaped about her head helmet-like with not a strand out of place, and those dark, shining eyes, bother to call out to him.

I’m sorry, he said. I didn’t think you meant me.

But you are William? He nodded. How did I know that?

I’m in your French class. I sit in the back, usually, he explained. I’m quiet.

You must be.

You have the best accent in the class, he said, trying to make conversation.

I should, she said. We lived in Paris for a year.

In France.

She nodded. Hey, did you hear? Old Rogan left.

Really, Mr. Rogan?

The old lech! She then imitated his raspy voice—a pretty good performance—Come into my laboratory, Evelyn, dear. William shook his head in sympathy but at the same time wondered whether she could possibly be referring to the feeble, green-complexioned ascetic who taught chemistry.

Will you take French again? she asked.

Will you?

Probably, she said.

Then I will, too, he replied, pleased by his quickness.

Anyway, she said, How about this gang tonight, indicating with a nod the crowded sidewalk, the laughing and loud conversations and movement in which they seemed to have become a part. Too noisy for you? she asked.

I like it, he said. And what an understatement that was. Because here he was with the others, staying close to this beautiful Evelyn, as they moved with the others in an easy flow, like a slow dance to the curb and back, careful not to bump or jostle anyone. The only thing was: it was difficult to look directly at her.

Hey, listen, William said, suddenly emboldened. How about a Coke or something?

Sure, she said," and led the way in a forthright fashion, like someone who belonged, up the three wooden steps, through the wedged-open door onto the black and white tiles of Myers where the music heard faintly on the sidewalk descended and enveloped them with colorful, finely honed precision.

Unfortunately all the high, wire-backed chairs at the black marble counter were taken. This did not deter Evelyn who led him immediately into the large, many-windowed inner room into which William had never before ventured.

The laughter and conversation all but overwhelmed the music. Double rows of booths ran the length of the room and along each side of the room, smaller tables were provided for more intimate conversation. The cigarette smoke that ascended everywhere was dissipated by the rows of dark, furiously spinning ceiling fans. But here, too—every place seemed taken. Somehow, however, Evelyn had found a table. Is this okay? she asked, as though, if need be, if this particular table caused him the slightest discomfort, she’d easily find another.

It’s perfect, he told her."

Seated at the small table, opposite to her, he noticed she had the smallest, whitest, most delicate fingers he had ever seen.

Do you smoke, William? she asked.

Not yet, he said.

Don’t start, she told him. This stuff is poison.

Although delicate and small, Evelyn’s fingers were extremely dexterous. In an instant, she had cleared the cellophane from her new pack and tapped forward in perfectly graduated rows, three or four cigarettes.

Don’t bother, she told him when William began to search for the matches he never carried. In her small, orange-beaded bag, she found a silver lighter from which with a quick motion of her wrist, she produced a perfect blue-white feather of a flame.

My mother and I have the most awful arguments about these things, she told him, needlessly tapping the offending cigarette against a metal ashtray. Of course, my mother’s right and I will definitely quit. But not just yet. Dad is different.

Different? William asked. In what way?

He’s for it, actually. In moderation, she added, when William smiled in disbelief.

You’re not joking? he asked.

Evelyn shook her head. It adds poise, my father thinks. A touch of what he calls the essential cosmopolitan spirit. She paused. Dad’s such a character with a really great, but complex sense of humor. And he does like to travel.

Really? William said.

It’s what we do, in fact, she said. Basically.

As William listened to Evelyn, he noticed that the neighboring booths were filled with golden haired girls who peeped over the top and around the side of the booths, frantic with energy. They scrambled occasionally into the aisle where they practiced a dance step or performed what seemed to be a cheer leading exercise. The girls were dressed almost uniformly in soft-colored cashmere sweaters, plaid skirts and penny loafers. They were attractive but looked not in the least like Evelyn. For one thing: Evelyn was darker: dark hair, dark shining eyes, more mature, assured. This was perhaps what people meant by the word sophistication. Evelyn had added to prettiness another and more mysterious dimension. No cashmere sweaters for her. Evelyn wore a silken sort of dress, white and green, with a slim white and green belt and the merest hint of lace along a low neck line. Even William recognized it as fashionable. Evelyn’s face in repose could sometimes seem severe, but when she smiled, those very tiny freckles high on both cheeks, hardly noticed otherwise, seemed to expand, become more obviously there, and suggest a warmth and openness that was appealing.

You mentioned traveling a lot, William said. Doesn’t that bother you?

Travel a bother? William, are you serious? Packing can be a bore at times, okay, but to set out to new places is so exhilarating. You think this town is strange?

He shook his head. No, I don’t.

Well, it is to me, she told him. But compared to Tulsa, it hardly exists. It’s so dismal. Tulsa, on the other hand, is one very strange place. Tulsa is uncanny.

Tulsa, Oklahoma?

Right, she said. But please, don’t go there until you’re ready.

I probably won’t go at all. I don’t even want to travel, William said. I like it here.

But what about reality?

Her question confused him.

It’s everywhere, I thought.

That’s my point, she said. But you have to see it, touch it, make it your own, and, so, become real yourself. You look confused.

I am, he admitted, but it sounds very fascinating.

Anyway, I’m just quoting Dad.

Is your father a professor or something? William asked.

I’d say a philosopher, and really deep. Dad thinks— and this is why travel is important. Newness helps to make us more alert and, in time, having become alert you can see through the many dimensions of the place to its core, its innermost reality. Its is-ness.

Amazing, William said.

That’s Dad’s favorite word: ‘is-ness.’ She looked steadily at William. I think maybe I’ve overwhelmed you. Want to leave?

Oh, no, he said, shaking his head. Leave? This place? This center of the universe? Leave Evelyn? Only if they found him out and dragged him away, shouting Impostor. Counterfeit-person. All of which he feared he might be. But, of his own accord, to leave all this? This girl, this fascinating creation? Only that his luck might hold.

It’s not too noisy then for you? Evelyn asked.

No, it’s terrific.

She shrugged. Actually, I like Benny’s better, on the ‘Ave’? They’re brothers, Bernie here, Benny there. They also have a place in Davenport, ‘The Family Flagship?’ Another brother, Reuben, runs it.

Wow! he said. How come?

How come what? she asked.

You know these things. It’s amazing.

It’s not the least bit amazing, she told him. I’ve just been luckier than most. Going here, going there. What a privilege I’ve received. Oh, by the way, she added, Did I mention they are Jewish?

Jewish, he said.

Oh, no, don’t tell me, Evelyn said, you’re anti-Semitic.

Not at all, he told her. I hate that stuff, hating people.

Don’t get sore, she said. I was only asking. Anyway, right now I want you to do me a favor.

Sure, William said. Anything.

I’ve been saying ‘William,’ ‘William,’ all night long. It’s a very heavy name, ‘William.’ My tongue is exhausted. Could we possibly shorten it a little?

Sure, he agreed, but to what?

Well, you’re definitely not a ‘Bill’ or ‘Billy’.

‘Billy’ I could not take, he told her.

I’m thinking ‘Will,’ she said. And then said the name once more: ‘Will.’ How does that sound?

He tried it once. ‘Will’. The he said, I like it. Will is fine.

Someone in the aisle, standing beside their table said in a hoarse voice, ‘Doll.’ My pretty ‘cosmopolitan’. He bent and enfolded her in his heavy, hairy arms and rubbed his grizzled, mustached face along her cheek. How’s my own pretty traveler?

Bernie, she said, smiling up at him when he released her.

So how was Tulsa? he asked.

Indescribable, she told him.

I want all the details.

Of course. Then she introduced William. This is Will.

Will, he said, taking William’s hand in both of his. Have I seen you here before?

First time, Bernie.

So, Will, Bernie said, retaining his hand for a second longer, become a regular, okay? You’re my kind of guy.

Thank you, Bernie.

Por nada, Bernie said. He looked around the room. Where’s Teddy? Then he added, Since I’m here, I’ll take your order.

No, Bernie, Evelyn said. You’re busy. It’s okay. We’re fine.

Then I’ll find Teddy and send him right over, he promised and moving away, he waved back to them.

Nice guy, William said.

He obviously likes you, Evelyn told him.

Teddy, the waiter, came and took their order. To William, Teddy seemed even taller and whiter-skinned and skinnier than he remembered from watching the high school basketball games. Somehow it seemed totally inappropriate, embarrassing even, to be waited upon by this all-city captain of the high school basketball team.

Don’t hold your breath, Will, Evelyn warned him when Teddy ambled off. He’ll take all night and get the order wrong.

But in fact Teddy reappeared quickly and after setting the correct order before them, rested a hand on William’s shoulder saying Good to see you, Buddy. Then he said, Come out for the team this year. We could use your height under the boards.

I will, William promised.

I’ll be looking for you, Teddy said.

Later on the way home, William and Evelyn strolled along quite casually, arms at their sides. But then their fingers touched and somehow they were holding hands. And it seemed so natural. Is this actually happening? William thought. To me? It’s not possible.

Once he had his voice under control he said, I’ve changed my mind.

About? she asked.

Traveling. I think it’s what I really need.

Oh, Will, I’m glad for you. But, she added, Don’t try Tulsa right away. It’s pretty complicated.

Right, William said. I was thinking of someplace smaller. Not too far away. Summerville. I always liked the name.

Good choice, Will, she said. I enjoyed it a lot myself.

Would you go again, he asked. Point out things to me so I wouldn’t get confused.

Oh, sure, she said.

You really would?

Yes, really, she told him and laughed for the first time that evening. Then, William, holding her hand tight, swung his arm and hers in the widest arc he ever made.

Dealing at the Dove

She chose the Dove, as it was popularly called—the White Dove, actually—because the room was pleasant but not festive: high-ceilinged, quiet, airy; a place to talk and to do business, and the food was adequate. On several tables close to theirs, yellow legal pads were already in evidence. She ordered a white wine, he a scotch. It would help, he hoped.

For all his flushed face and pinstriped heft, she saw he was uneasy; a tribute to herself but a small one. She kept all of them uneasy; no better way, she had decided long ago, to run a business. She must, however, be careful not to provoke Howard to any final, bridge-burning frenzy. Her own ease of mind and movement—no small matters—were at stake. He and Lois deserved one another.

Carefulness, long cultivated, prevented Howard even now from taking this last opportunity—he knew the score —to come out swinging, (aided by the scotch, of course, and perhaps one more) and spark for once those cold gray eyes, pure organs of perception, uninterested in anything it seemed, certainly not in him, but missing nothing. To mess that silvered, flawless coiffure, drawn so tightly back on either side, about and behind the ears. But even drunk, he would not dare to touch that austere and imperial self, demure but so robust, virginal-seeming but with the breasts and legs that a much younger woman might well envy.

Oh, by the way, before I forget, Ted Harris sends his best.

That’s surprising, he’s always hated me.

Oh, Howard, hate? I know he doesn’t like you much, but hate! He also thinks you have the stuff. You’re ‘very competent,’ he told me.

Ted said that?

His words, she told him.

Wonders never cease, he murmured.

His name will be a good one on your résumé, if it comes to that. She opened her menu, then closed it immediately. He sensed the battle had begun.

I’m prejudiced of course, Howard, Lois is my niece. But I think she’s lovely. She spoke softly but very clearly, in an impersonal tone as though she were dictating to him a letter for a third person. Stunning, in fact.

Absolutely, he replied. That’s the word, stunning. He took another sip, a large one; and it helped.

It doesn’t matter, though? she asked lightly, tilting her head at him