Long Bridge Runner

Chapter 67-Provincetown

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay

THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Provincetown in winter is like an elegant lady without her makeup. Store window displays are absent save for a few brave ones in the face of nor'easters and broken glass. Some wander the streets in summer clothes searching for a warm embrace. Life here is perfidious in this desert of snow. Adams Pharmacy in an Oasis of cheerful faces remembering summer when an old man in drag sings before the Court House-sings songs of Sinatra with a flick of his hair, smiling, bringing happiness. But no street artist painted or drew on the day of Gurion's arrival; there is only silence and solitary figures casting thin shadows from thin light. The house by the sea, on the Truro end of Commercial Street, has glowing yellow windows as Frankel, Ruth, Gurion and Kimberly were welcomed by Keith and Kevin.

"Make yourself at home," said Keith in his broad Midwestern accent.

Noticing this Gurion asked, "Where are you from?"

"Bismarck," said Keith.

"That's a German name," said Gurion.

"Mostly Germans and Scandinavians up there," said Kevin, "in North Dakota," he added for clarification.

Keith was a large man, muscular and imposing. "I was Kevin's teacher back there; now I'm a chef in Boston for the winter. In summer, I'm at the Provincetown Inn. There's a picture on the wall."

The photo taken from a plane showed buildings almost surrounded by water.

"It's the last thing before Ireland," said Kevin.

"Yes, I'll take everyone there in the morning," Keith said.

"And, Kevin, what do you do?" asked Kimberly.

"Kevin's in Med School in Boston," said Frankel.

"I never thought of Boston in terms of Med Schools."

"Oh, my dear," corrected Ruth, "Boston is on the way to being the center of the medical world."

"What do I know?" said Kimberly, "I know Harvard is there."

"And Gardner," said Ruth, "that's where I went to school. Don't ask me to explain, but that's how I met Elliott," she said pointing to Dr. Frankel.

Frankel hugged Ruth and Keith hugged Kevin and Gurion hugged Kimberly, all this with much laughter.

The supper Keith made featured calamari and mussels in Dijon sauce and as a back up (just in case) there were tornadoes du pave, couscous with falafel, and a salad with avocado paste garnished with pimentos. All this followed by an unbelievable lemon crisp dusted with crushed lilac.

After dinner, Kevin mixed manhattans and brought up the subject at hand-a clinic in Provincetown.

Kevin wants to come here after Med School and practice and; of course, indulge his other interest-acting.

Kimberly smiled a wide smile, "I guess this is the place. I know it has a strong theater history-Eugene O'Neill and all that.

Kimberly was satisfied with herself, especially when Kevin said, "My goodness, you've been doing your homework."

"No, no," said Kimberly, "I've known that since my school days. John Reed was here also; and he was very close to Eugene who was very close to his wife, if you get the meaning."

"And," said Kevin with laughter, "they got close in little huts up in the dunes."

"As have many others," said Keith, "Provincetown is all about getting close." Keith made quotation signs with his fingers.

To Frankel's dismay, the conversation stayed focused on the arts.
"Speaking of writers," said Kimberly, "the Cape attracted writers way back-Thoreau was here and wrote about it. And Emerson, of course.

"Hitch your wagon to a star, " said Kevin, "last year I ran into a writer in Hyannis, Jack Carrigon or Carryon, he gave me one of his books; it's in the bookcase."

"Well, of course," said Keith," one very famous playwright comes here and the Provincetown Players are doing one of his plays, A Street Car Named Desire.

"Oh, we saw it in New York at the Barrymore," said Ruth.

"You saw Marlon!" said Kevin holding out the book. "What a piece of beefcake," he said as he made the sign of a pounding heart.
After the laughter, Kevin produced The Town and the City by Jack Kerouac.

"Speaking of Tennessee Williams, by the way, do you know why he's called Tennessee?"

"I know he's from St. Louis," said Kimberly.

"That's right. He went to school there and the Fraternity boys called him Tennessee because of his southern accent." Keith went on to say, "During the summer everyone comes here, everyone. Norman Mailer was up here last year; the guy who wrote The Naked and the Dead.

Kevin made more drinks and as he handed one to Gurion he asked, "What was Berlin like during the Weimar Republic. I heard it was wild."

"It was said Gurion, "as the song says Anything goes. It was a very creative period-theater, film, painting, literature.

"The Three Penny Opera was composed then," said Kimberly
"Yes," said Gurion, "Bertoldt Brecht and Kurt Wiell wrote the opera that gave us, Mackie Messer*

Und der Haifisch, der hat Zahne
Und die tragt er im Gesicht
Und MacHeath, der hat ein Messer
Doch das Messer sieht man nicht
It was wonderful but it all came to an end."

"Ya Vol," said Kevin as he gave the Nazi salute.

"You must remember," said Gurion, "that Hitler was elected. Germans saw him as a savior. He was young and inexperienced, but he gave great speeches-starting out softly then building to a crescendo until he was roaring and he had the crowds with him. He was hypnotic, so very persuasive, and he promised so much-so very much. He kept some of his good promises-the autobahn, the Volkswagen, employment; but unfortunately he kept all his evil promises too-the ones he made in Mein Kampf."

"How was he able to do this?" asked Ruth.

"He started with the Bundestag Fire; it was the destruction of a national symbol and it was an excuse for repression and the assumption of special powers. In the months that followed he secretly had thousands of his rivals killed.

Hitler's genius lay in the fact that he spent vast amounts of time thinking unthinkable thoughts-like how to conquer Europe. He didn't think like a Twentieth Century man; he wanted to be Napoleon."

Gurion's composure failed him at that point and he asked to be excused.

When Kimberly joined Gurion later she said, "They're playing bridge." And after a moment she said, "Let me ask you a question, do those guys play for the other team?"

Gurion did not know her meaning.

"Are those guys what they call queer?" she asked in a whisper.

"They are apparently homosexuals," said Gurion, "don't you remember the question that Kevin asked me about Germany in the Twenties-the questions about Weimar Republic. There was lots of homosexuality in Berlin at that time."

"And that's why you sang that German song?"

"You mean Mack the Knife?"

Kimberly laughed a little laugh of embarrassment.

"In any case, they're apparently homosexual."

"Oh my," said Kimberly, "oh my, oh my."

"Why oh my?" said Gurion, "you have nothing to be concerned about-unless one of them does your hair."

"What does that mean?" asked Kimberly with complete puzzlement."

"Nothing," I was just trying to make a joke."

On their second night on Cape Cod Kimberly and Gurion could clearly see the ocean, see the reflection of the moon on Cape Cod Bay.

In the morning, as they rode up Commercial Street they passed dozens of seaside homes nesting side by side between the street and the beach. The homes on the non-beach side had yards and the vines of summer flowers, especially the wild roses that choked the town in June. These were Victorian houses with balconies and upper porches and occasionally a masthead-one with black hair and one with blond. There were also plaques on the houses with ancient dates. They passed the museum and entered the downtown where inexplicitly the galleries still displayed their paintings-mostly oils with a few watercolors mixed in and in one case, a display of photographs and in another-line drawings. Realism was the rule, veering from precise technique of a classical nature to impressionism. There were copies too-a large copy of a Mary Cassatt oil of a man, woman and child in a boat. The variation of the art was stunning and extended to the avant-garde in the form of abstraction, sculpture and ceramics. Imitations of Calder mobiles hung in one gallery while a bifurcated bicycle stood in another.

They passed various inns and taverns, all shuttered, and the great wooden Town Hall that centered the town. It sat next to a Portuguese bakery where, according to Keith, you could buy Nata, Queijuda, Pasties de Coco and Malassadas to nosh on on the way back.

They passed shuttered fudge shops. The post office on the left was open and Gurion asked for a few minutes in order to mail Daniel his present-a pair of binoculars-Goldcrest-and a book on bird watching that he had bought in New York and had carried with him until now.

Then they passed the aquarium and came to the end of the straight street before it turned left and saw in an upstairs window a bust of Shakespeare. The Coast Guard Station was next and after it the ancient Red Inn and finally at the foot of a hill the Provincetown Inn-the very last building.

Keith had a key to the main doors but Chester, the caretaker, had already unlocked them and had built a fire in the Bay View Dining Room. The long hallway was covered in murals of Provincetown's past including one in the first banquet room that showed the Pilgrims washing clothes after they had landed. A plaque read "The Exact Spot Where the Pilgrims First Landed and Did Their Laundry." The spot was marked by a large eight-pointed star on the linoleum.

The dining room was off to the side of a grand staircase that ascended to an upper mezzanine with chandeliers marching off in columns. Boats could be seen from the window-side tables of the dining room-boats bobbing in the bay in a recipe of colors-blue hulls, red hulls, yellow hulls and one black hull. All this, enlivened by a cacophony of seagulls.

Keith had brought in groceries, had lit a stove in the kitchen and on that stove had cooked omelets with onions, mushrooms and three cheeses. "Plus peppers to give it some tang," he said. He sliced sweet Portuguese bread from the bakery and slathered it with honeyed butter. Cranberry and Orange Juice rounded out this repast.

Just as they finished eating, Chester came in to say hello. He was a man of undeterminable age who wore a craggy face and a large black toboggan. His cherry wood pipe had bayberry tobacco in its bowl beneath burning embers.

"Where are ye from?" he asked Gurion.

"We're here from Illinois," Gurion answered, "but before that Germany."

"And where in Germany?"

"Berlin," said Gurion with a tone of finality.

"The place is in ruins isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," Gurion answered.

"I know a young fellow who told me about the bombing, a young fellow by the name of Vonnegut. Talked to him last summer."
While this exchange was taking place, a fluffy black and white cat of considerable size darted down the hallway and then came back to the door and carefully, tentatively peeked around the sill.
"Oh, that's Bernard," said Chester, "he's a stray, won't let anyone near him."

"He's beautiful-gorgeous," said Kimberly and Ruth in tandem.

"He's huge," said Kevin."

"Well, I don't know what he eats. He must be living off of varmints. There's nothing for him to eat around here."

At that Kimberly made a meow sound and to everyone's surprise, the cat came into the room and trotted across the floor to her.

"Don't try to pet him," said Chester, "he'll bite you, scratch your eyes out."

But Chester's words went unheeded as Kimberly bent down and picked up the animal and held it in her lap. Not only did Bernard cooperate but he lay his head up next to her breast-her favorite breast, thought Gurion-and looked up at her with such affectionate eyes that she melted into an avalanche of giggles. The cat was not startled by this strange sound; but rather turned his head upward and released a short timid meow.

Kimberly carried him all the way to the front door and as they left looked down at his face and said, "When the doctor and I return in the spring, we'll come and get you. Gurion, give Chester some money for cat food."

And though Gurion looked dumbfounded, he took twenty dollars out of his wallet and handed it to Chester and then Kimberly sat the cat down. It followed her out the door and to the car. When she got in and closed the door and rolled down the window, Bernard looked up at her and exhaled a long, mournful meow.

Chester was standing with amazement on his face. "You know, he's one of those cats that are left behind every year, the Cape and Islands are covered with them-summertime pets for the kids that they don't want to take back to Boston or New York. On Nantucket, lots of folks drop them off at the Vets to be put down. But I'll feed him until you get back; don't worry about that."

The cat was listening to every word as if he understood the conversation and as Frankel's car pulled away, Keith and Kevin, who were going to remain a while longer, waved goodbye and Kimberly thought, "When we get to Boston tonight and get in the hotel, I'll seduce my husband and make love to him all night long." She leaned over and gave Gurion a kiss on the cheek and then turned around to get one long look at the last building in America.
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