Jesus Maria paused. He saw with pride that his friends were leaning in toward the story. “That was the way of it,” he said.
“But Gracie Montez married that Petey Ravanno,” Pilon cried excitedly. “I know her. She is a good woman. She never misses mass, and she goes once a month to confession.”
“So it is now,” Jesus Maria agreed. “Old Man Ravanno [120] was angry. He ran to Gracie’s house, and he cried, ‘See how you murder my boy with your foolishness. He tried to kill himself for you, dung-heap chicken.’
“Gracie was afraid, but she was pleased too, because it is not many women who can make a man go so far. She went to see Petey where he was in bed with a crooked neck. After a little while they were married.
“It turned out the way Petey thought it would, too. When the church told her to be a good wife, she was a good wife. She didn’t laugh to men any more. And she didn’t run away so they chased her. Petey went on cutting squids, and pretty soon Chin Kee let him empty the squid boxes. And not long after that he was the mayordomo of the squid yard. You see,” said Jesus Maria, “there is a good story. It would be a story for a priest to tell, if it stopped there.”
“Oh, yes,” said Pilon gravely. “There are things to be learned in this story.”
The friends nodded appreciatively, for they liked a story with a meaning.
“I knew a girl in Texas like that,” said Danny. “Only she didn’t change. They called her the wife of the second platoon. ‘Mrs. Second Platoon,’ they said.”
Pablo held up his hand. “There is more to this story,” he said. “Let Jesus Maria tell the rest.”
“Yes, there is more. And it is not such a good story, in the ending. There was the viejo, over sixty. And Petey and Gracie went to live in another house. The Viejo Ravanno was lonely, for he had always been with Petey. He didn’t know how to take up his time. He just sat and looked sad, until one day he saw ‘Tonia again. ‘Tonia was fifteen, and she was prettier, even, than Gracie. Half the soldiers from the Presidio followed her around like little dogs.
“Now as it had been with Petey, so it was with the old man. His desire made him ache all over. He could not eat or sleep. His cheeks sunk in, and his eyes stared like the eyes of a marihuana smoker. He carried candy to ‘Tonia, and she grabbed the candy out of his hands and laughed at him. He said, ‘Come to me, little dear one, for I am thy friend.’ She laughed again.
“Then the viejo told Petey about it. And Petey laughed [121] too. ‘You old fool,’ Petey said. ‘You’ve had enough women your life. Don’t run after babies.’ But it did no good. Old Man Ravanno grew sick with longing. They are hotblooded, those Ravannos. He hid in the grass and watched her pass by. His heart ached in his breast.
“He needed money to buy presents, so he got a job in the Standard Service Station. He raked the gravel and watered the flowers at that station. He put water in the radiators and cleaned the windshields. With every cent he bought presents for ‘Tonia, candy and ribbons and dresses. He paid to have her picture taken with colors.
“She only laughed more, and the viejo was nearly crazy. So he thought, ‘If marriage in the church made Gracie a good woman, it will make ‘Tonia a good woman too.’ He asked her to marry him. Then she laughed more than ever. She flung up her skirts to worry him. Oh, she was a devil, that ‘Tonia.”
“He was a fool,” said Pilon smugly. “Old men should not run after babies. They should sit in the sun.”
Jesus Maria went on irritably. “Those Ravannos are different,” he said, “so hot-blooded.”
“Well, it was not a decent thing,” said Pilon. “It was a shame on Petey.”
Pablo turned to him. “Let Jesus Maria go on. It is his story, Pilon, not thine. Sometime we will listen to thee.”
Jesus Maria looked gratefully to Pablo. “I was telling.
“The viejo could not stand it any more. But he was not a man to invent anything. He was not like Pilon. He could not think of anything new. The Viejo Ravanno thought like this: ‘Gracie married Petey because he hanged himself. I will hang myself, and maybe ‘Tonia will marry me.’ And then he thought, ‘If no one finds me soon enough, I Will be dead. Someone must find me.’
“You must know,” said Jesus Maria, “at that service station there is a tool house. Early in the morning the viejo went down and unlocked the tool house and raked the gravel and watered the flowers before the station opened. The other men came to work at eight o’clock. So, one morning, the viejo went into the tool house and put up a rope. Then he waited until it was eight o’clock. He saw the [122] men coming. He put the rope around his neck and stepped off a work bench. And just when he did that, the door of the tool shed blew shut.”
Broad smiles broke out on the faces of the friends. Sometimes, they thought, life was very, very humorous.
“Those men did not miss him right away,” Jesus Maria went on. “They said, ‘He is probably drunk, that old one.’ It was an hour later when they opened the door of that tool shed.” He looked around.
The smiles were still on the faces of the friends, but they were changed smiles. “You see,” Jesus Maria said, “it is funny. But it squeezes in you too.”
“What did ‘Tonia say?” Pilon demanded. “Did she read a lesson and change her living?”
“No. She did not. Petey told her, and she laughed. Petey laughed too. But he was ashamed. ‘Tonia said, ‘What an old fool he was,’ and ‘Tonia looked at Petey that way she had.
“Then Petey said, ‘It is good to have a little sister like thee. Some night I will walk in the woods with thee.’ Then ‘Tonia laughed again and ran away a little. And she said, ‘Do you think I am as pretty as Gracie?’ So Petey followed her into the house.”
Pilon complained, “It is not a good story. There are too many meanings and too many lessons in it. Some of those lessons are opposite. There is not a story to take into your head. It proves nothing.”
“I like it,” said Pablo. “I like it because it hasn’t any meaning you can see, and still it does seem to mean something, I can’t tell what.”
The sun had turned across noon, and the air was hot.
“I wonder what the Pirate will bring to eat,” said Danny.
“There is a mackerel run in the bay,” Pablo observed.
Pilon’s eyes brightened. “I have a plan that I thought out,” he said. “When I was a little boy, we lived by the railroad. Every day when the train went by, my brothers and I threw rocks at the engine, and the firemen threw coal at us. Sometimes we picked up a big bucketful of coal and took it in to our mother. Now I thought maybe we could [123] take rocks down on the pier. When the boats come near, we will call names, we will throw rocks. How can those fishermen get back at us? Can they throw oars, or nets? Not They can only throw mackerel.”
Danny stood up joyfully. “Now there is a plan!” he cried. “How this little Pilon of ours is our friend! What would we do without our Pilon? Come, I know where there is a great pile of rocks.”
“I like mackerel better than any other fish,” said Pablo.
XV
How Danny brooded and became mad. How the devil in the shape of Torrelli assaulted Danny’s House.
THERE is a changeless quality about Monterey. Nearly every day in the morning the sun shines in the windows on the west sides of the streets; and, in the afternoons, on the east sides of the streets. Every day the red bus clangs back and forth between Monterey and Pacific Grove. Every day the canneries send a stink of reducing fish into the air. Every afternoon the wind blows in from the bay and sways the pines on the hills. The rock fishermen sit on the rocks holding their poles, and their faces are graven with patience and with cynicism.
On Tortilla Flat, above Monterey, the routine is changeless too; for there is only a given number of adventures that Cornelia Ruiz can have with her slowly changing procession of sweethearts. She has been known to take again a man long since discarded.
In Danny’s house there was even less change. The friends had sunk into a routine which might have been monotonous for anyone but a paisano—up in the morning, to sit in the sun and wonder what the Pirate would bring. The Pirate still cut pitchwood and sold it in the streets of Monterey, but now he bought food with the quarter he earned [124] every day. Occasionally the friends procured some wine, and then there was singing and fighting.