Tale 1: The Jelly-Bean (PART II)

Adapted by Khidir Mohamed Yazir (Kid Haider)

II

At 9:30, Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and headed to the Country Club in Clark's Ford. As they drove through the night filled with the scent of jasmine, Jim casually asked Clark, "How do you make ends meet?"

Clark paused, thinking it over. "Well," he finally replied, "I have a room above Tilly's garage. I help him out with cars in the afternoons, and he lets me stay there for free. Sometimes I drive one of his taxis and make a little extra cash that way. But I get tired of doing that all the time."

"Is that all?"

"When there's a lot of work, I help him out by working with him on Saturdays. There's also another source of income that I don't usually talk about. You might not remember, but I'm actually the best dice shooter in town. They make me use a cup now because once I get the hang of a pair of dice, they just seem to roll in my favour."

Clark smiled,

"I could never figure out how to make them do what I wanted. You should play dice with Nancy Lamar sometime and take all her money. She plays with the guys and ends up losing more than her dad can afford to give her. I heard she even had to sell a nice ring last month to pay off a debt."

The Jelly-bean was indecisive.

"Do you still own the white house on Elm Street?"

Jim shook his head.

"It's been sold. I got a pretty good price for it, considering it wasn't in a good part of town anymore. My lawyer advised me to put the money into Liberty bonds. But Aunt Mamie lost her mind, so now all the interest goes towards keeping her at Great Farms Sanitarium."

"Hmm."

"I have an old uncle upstate and I could go live with him if I ever become really poor. It's a nice farm, but there aren't enough workers. He's asked me to come help, but I don't think I'd like it. It's too lonely— He stopped abruptly. Clark, I appreciate you inviting me out, but I'd honestly be happier if you just let me walk back into town right here."

"Come on!" Clark grunted. "It'll do you good to get some fresh air. You don't have to dance—just get out on the floor and move around."

"Wait a minute," Jim exclaimed nervously. "Don't you dare lead me up to any girls and leave me there to dance with them."

Clark chuckled.

"Because," Jim continued anxiously, "if you don't promise not to do that, I'm going to leave right now and my legs will carry me back to Jackson Street."

After some debate, they decided that Jim, free from female attention, would watch the event from a private settee in the corner, where Clark would join him when he wasn't dancing.

At ten o'clock, the Jelly-bean was sitting with his legs crossed and arms folded, trying to appear nonchalant and uninterested in the dancers. Deep down, he was torn between feeling extremely self-conscious and being intensely curious about everything happening around him. He watched as the girls emerged one by one from the dressing room, preening and smiling at the chaperones, scanning the room and gauging the reactions to their entrance. They then gracefully joined their waiting escorts, like birds settling into their nests.

Sally Carrol Hopper, with her blonde hair and lazy eye, stood out in her favourite pink outfit, looking like a blooming rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, and all the other girls he had seen earlier on Jackson Street now appeared transformed under the bright lights, like delicate Dresden figurines in shades of pink, blue, red, and gold.

Despite being at the event for half an hour, the Jelly-bean felt out of place and unenthusiastic, even with Clark's attempts to cheer him up with jovial visits. The other guys who approached him seemed surprised to see him there, and he even sensed a hint of resentment from a couple of them. But at half past ten, his embarrassment suddenly vanished, and he was captivated by Nancy Lamar's entrance from the dressing room.

She was wearing a stunning yellow organdie dress, with three tiers of ruffles and a big bow in the back. She looked like a ray of sunshine, glowing in the room. The Jelly-bean couldn't take his eyes off her, feeling a lump in his throat. She was standing by the door, waiting for her partner to arrive. Jim recognized him as the guy who was with her in Joe Ewing's car earlier that day. He saw her talking and laughing with the man, and felt a pang of jealousy. It seemed like they shared some kind of special connection that made Jim feel like he was invisible.

A little while later, Clark came over, looking excited and full of energy.

"Hey, buddy! How's it going?" he said, lacking originality. "How you making out?"

Jim replied that he was making out as well as could be expected.

"Come with me," Clark said, taking charge. "I've got something that will make this evening more interesting."

Jim followed Clark awkwardly to the locker room, where Clark pulled out a flask of yellow liquid.

"Good old corn," Clark said proudly.

Ginger ale was brought over on a tray to mix with the potent drink.

"Man, Nancy Lamar looks stunning tonight, doesn't she?" Clark said, out of breath.

Jim nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, she looks amazing," he said.

"She's all dressed up tonight," Clark continued. "And that guy she's with? Ogden Merritt from Savannah. His family makes those Merritt safety razors. He's been chasing after her all year."

"She's a wild one, that Nancy," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does everybody. She sure does pull off some crazy stunts. She usually comes out alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from the things she's done.

"Oh, really?" Jim replied, passing over his glass. "That's some good corn."

"Not too shabby. Oh, she's a wild one, alright. Loves to shoot craps and drink her highballs. Promised her I'd make her one later."

"Is she in love with this Merritt guy?"

"Who knows? Seems like all the best girls around here end up marrying and leaving town."

He poured himself another drink and carefully corked the bottle.

"Listen, Jim, I gotta go dance. Would you mind holding onto this corn for me while I'm on the dance floor? If someone sees I've had a drink, they'll come up and ask me for some, and before I know it, it's all gone and someone else is having my fun."

So Nancy Lamar was going to get married. The town's darling was going to become someone's wife all because that someone's father made a better razor than the neighbour. As they went down the stairs, Jim found the idea strangely depressing. For the first time, he felt a vague sense of longing. A picture of Nancy began to form in his mind - Nancy strolling down the street with a boyish charm, taking an orange as a gift from a fruit vendor, running up a tab at Soda Sams, gathering a group of admirers, and driving off triumphantly for an afternoon of fun and laughter.

The Jelly-bean strolled out onto the porch, finding a secluded spot between the moonlit lawn and the glowing door of the ballroom. He settled into a chair, lit a cigarette, and let his mind wander as he often did. The night air was filled with the sweet scent of perfume and the distant sound of music, creating a dreamy atmosphere.

As he sat lost in thought, a dark figure suddenly blocked the light from the door. A girl emerged from the dressing room and stood just a few feet away. She let out a soft exclamation before noticing him. It was Nancy Lamar.

Jim stood up, greeting her with a casual "Howdy?"

"Hey there," she said, pausing for a moment before approaching. "Oh, it's Jim Powell."

Jim nodded slightly, trying to come up with something casual to say.

"Do you happen to know anything about getting gum off shoes?" she asked quickly. "Someone left their gum on the floor and, of course, I stepped in it."

Jim blushed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Do you know how to get it off?" she asked impatiently. "I've tried a knife, soap and water, even perfume. I've ruined my powder puff trying to get it off."

Jim thought for a moment, feeling a bit flustered.

"Well, I think maybe gasoline—"

Before he could finish his sentence, she grabbed his hand and pulled him off the veranda, through a flower bed, and towards a group of cars parked by the golf course.

"Turn on the gasoline," she said, out of breath.

"What?" Jim asked, confused.

"For the gum, of course. I need to get it off. I can't dance with gum on my shoe."

Jim obediently turned to the cars and began inspecting them in search of the desired solvent. If she had asked for a cylinder, he would have done his best to get one out for her.

"Here," he said after a quick search. "Here's an easy one. Do you have a handkerchief?"

"It's upstairs. wet. I used it for the soap and water," she replied.

Jim searched his pockets. "I don't think I have one either."

"Aw, darn it! Well, we can just turn it on and let it run on the ground."

He turned the spout, and a drip started.

"More!" She exclaimed.

He turned it on fuller, and the dripping turned into a flow, creating an oily pool that shimmered in the light.

"Ah," she sighed happily. "Just let it all out. The only way to do it is to wade in."

In a moment of desperation, he turned the tap on full blast, causing the pool to widen and send tiny rivers in all directions.

"That's great. That's more like it," she said.

Lifting her skirts, she gracefully stepped into the gasoline.

"I know this will take it off," she murmured.

Jim smiled. "There are plenty more cars."

She stepped out of the gasoline and began scraping her slippers on the running-board of the car. The jelly-bean couldn't contain himself any longer and burst into laughter, with her joining in a moment later.

"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" She asked as they strolled back toward the veranda.

"Yeah."

"Do you know where he is now?"

"Out dancing, I reckon."

"Oh no. He promised me a highball."

"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be alright. I've got his bottle right here in my pocket."

She smiled at him brightly.

"I guess maybe you'll need ginger ale though," he added.

"Not me. Just the bottle."

"Are you sure?"

She laughed scornfully.

"Try me. I can drink anything any man can. Let's sit down."

She perched herself on the edge of a table and he settled into one of the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out the cork, she held the flask to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her, fascinated.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

She shook her head breathlessly.

"No, but I like the way it makes me feel. I think most people are that way."

Jim agreed.

"My daddy liked it too much. It got him."

"American men," said Nancy seriously, "don't know how to drink."

"What?" Jim was surprised.

"In fact," she continued casually, "they don't know how to do anything very well. The one thing I regret in my life is that I wasn't born in England."

"In England?"

"Yes. It's the one regret of my life that I wasn't."

"Do you like it over there?"

"Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the army, Oxford and Cambridge men—you know, that's like Sewanee and University of Georgia are here—and of course, I've read a lot of English novels."

Jim was intrigued, amazed.

"Have you ever heard of Lady Diana Manner?" she asked earnestly.

"No," Jim replied.

Jim was intrigued and amazed.

"Have you ever heard of Lady Diana Manners?" she asked eagerly.

"No, I haven't," Jim replied.

"Well, she's who I aspire to be. Dark, like me, and wild as sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up the steps of some cathedral or church, and all the novelists had their heroines do it after her."

Jim nodded politely, feeling a bit out of his element.

"Pass the bottle," Nancy suggested. "I'm going to have another little one. A drink wouldn't hurt."

"You see," she continued, catching her breath after a sip, "people over there have style. Nobody has style here. The boys aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for, you know?"

"I suppose so," Jim murmured.

"I'd like to show them all up. I'm really the only girl in town with style," she declared, stretching her arms and yawning.

"It's a beautiful evening," she remarked.

"Sure is," Jim agreed.

"I'd love to have a boat," she said dreamily. "Sail out on a silver lake, like the Thames. Have champagne and caviar sandwiches with about eight people. And one of the men would jump overboard to entertain us, like that man did with Lady Diana Manners."

"Did he do it to impress her?" Jim asked.

"No, he didn't mean to drown himself to impress her. He just wanted to make everyone laugh," she explained.

"I bet they laughed when he drowned," she said with a chuckle.

"Oh, I suppose they did laugh a little," she admitted. "I imagine she did, anyway. She's pretty tough, like me."

"You're tough?" Jim asked.

"Like nails," she replied, yawning again. "Give me a little more from that bottle."

Jim hesitated, but she held out her hand confidently. "Don't treat me like a girl," she warned. "I'm not like any girl you've ever met." She paused. "But maybe you're right. You have an old head on young shoulders."

She stood up and headed towards the door. The Jelly-bean stood up too.

"Goodbye," she said politely. "Thanks, Jelly-bean."

Then she walked inside, leaving him stunned on the porch.