Night Extra

“I don’t get you, Sam,” Bill Hamilton said. “We care about what happens, of course.” His mood was serious now. “But except in a sort of philosophical way, the city isn’t my responsibility. I got sick of it, and I moved out. The schools are crummy, the streets are filthy, and it’s no place for kids. So I decided, as just one little guy, to take my family somewhere else. So what do I owe the city?”

“You make your money from it,” Terrell said. “It affects the whole state you live in. So you owe it a certain attention, at least.”

Mona Hamilton said defensively, “We sound un-liberal and un-progressive, I know. But I couldn’t stand living in the city another day. I want to be with my own kind of people. People who care about. the same things I do.”

“Everyone does,” Tom Brogan said. “Don’t apologize for how you feel. Hell, people in slums probably have the same ideas. If you had regular garbage collections they’d start moaning about the good old days when the trash collected for weeks in the gutters.”

“Well, that’s one way of looking at it,” Terrell said drily. “But here’s another: people with money and education received those advantages from the community. But they won’t put those to work except in areas that pay off in favorable zoning laws, and a pleasant life for themselves and their immediate family. They don’t accept the fact that what they’ve got has a string to it — a string tied to something called responsibility.”

Mona Hamilton looked unhappy. “I feel that sometimes. I feel we’re so lucky we should do something about it. But what can one person do?”

“Nothing at all,” Tom Brogan said, settling himself deeper in his chair. “So let’s have a nightcap and forget about politics.”

Terrell had been watching Connie during part of the discussion, and he was gratified by the worried little frown that settled on her forehead. He decided to accept Brogan’s offer to change the subject. “You’ve got a point,” he said pleasantly, “but we’ll have to skip the nightcap, I’m afraid. I promised Connie I’d get her home before the milkman.”

There were protests from Bill and Mona, and finally urgings to come out again when they could really make a night of it. Terrell drove back toward the city in silence. At the winding approach to the bridge he slowed the car and coasted off the road onto a grassy bluff that overlooked the river, and the dark light-flecked mass of the city. He cut the motor, then turned and smiled at her set profile. “Wrong,” he said. “I’ve got nothing like that on my mind.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“I thought we’d have a last cigarette, talk over the evening. How did you like my friends?”

“They seemed very nice.”

“A bit fat-headed maybe? Just as though wrapped up in their own blissful little lives?”

She glanced at him, and said, “I thought you weren’t trying to sell anything tonight.”

“I’m not — I’m just ripping our hosts apart. It’s an old suburban custom. You break their bread and drink their wine and then tell everyone what bastards they are.”

“No, that’s not it. You want me to agree that they’re selfish and narrow, don’t you? Then to prove I’m different I’ll offer to help you. Isn’t that what you’re hoping?”

“Now who’s leaping to conclusions?”

“I saw it in your face tonight,” she said, in a sharper voice. “You looked so damned smug — the pure and noble young man surrounded by tiresome dead-beats. That’s the way you acted. But what’s wrong with your friends? What have they got to be ashamed of?”

“Why don’t you ask them?” Terrell said.

“It’s no business of mine. They’re living the way they want, paying taxes, obeying the laws. What do you expect them to do? Join your vigilantes? Or start pulling down slums with their bare hands?”

“Now wait a minute,” Terrell said.

“I’ll tell you something,” she said angrily. “They live the way I’d like to someday. Taking care of their children, with no doctor bills or grocery bills hanging over their heads, in a clean, comfortable house. You think they’re fools because they make sense.”

Terrell sighed. After a moment, he said, “Do you think it’s admirable to evade a clear responsibility?”

“It’s not their responsibility.”

“I’m not talking about them now. I’m talking about you. A man may hang unless you help him. That’s a pretty high price to pay for a split-level home in the country.”

“Do you know why I came with you tonight?” she asked him in a low voice.

“I couldn’t even guess.”

“They told me to. They said be nice to you and find out what I could. Does that tell you what side I’m on?”

“They? Frankie Chance, you mean?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, this is interesting,” Terrell said. His voice was casual, but his stomach had suddenly gone cold and tight. “Frankie doesn’t do much on his own, you know. Cellars gives him a little leeway in choosing his ties and cigarettes, but that’s about all. So it’s Cellars who wants you to be nice to me. That’s practically a mandate.”

“I’d like to go home now,” she said.

“Why sure. But what about Ike’s instructions?”

“Don’t be a fool!”