Regiment of Women Read Online Free PDF Page B

“let’s have a beer while the corned beef ‘n’ cabbage is boiling.”
    Cornell wasn’t much of a drinker. He seldom touched the hard stuff. He didn’t hold it well, going rapidly through giddiness to something rather ugly. Women were misguided who sought to ply him with liquor en route to bed. A glass of wine was his speed, but he supposed Charlie would have offered wine if available.
    â€œOh, nice,” he said. Beer would bloat him.
    Charlie went to the battered half-refrigerator under the counter of the kitchenette, which was scarcely more than an alcove, took out a quart bottle that had already been opened, and filled a glass mug. Cornell closed his eyes as he drank. He did not want to see whether the glass was clean, for there was nothing he could have done about it if it weren’t. Charlie gulped at his own mug. He had probably already had a few.
    â€œLet me top that up,” he said after Cornell had had only two sips, extending the slimy bottle.
    â€œI don’t want to get tipsy,” Cornell said.
    â€œCome on,” said Charlie, “unbend. This is Liberty Hall.”
    By the time Charlie served up the corned beef and cabbage, they had killed the entire quart, and Cornell could feel it. He could sense a certain recklessness in his soul.
    Charlie brought the discolored pot to the card table at which they were to eat and forked down a half-head of cabbage on each plastic plate. He had previously hacked from a hunk of corned beef a portion, replete with fibers, for each of them.
    â€œPut some margarine on it while it’s hot,” Charlie said. “I’ll get the mustard and another bottle.”
    â€œI don’t know if I can handle much more,” said Cornell.
    â€œLive a little,” Charlie said.
    Cornell was feeling no pain as he chewed the last of the twine-like meat. The truth was that alcohol made him feel rather effeminate. He found himself almost enjoying this crude provender. If he confessed that to Dr. Prine, she would probably use the word “vulva-envy.” If he got drunk enough, he would think of her as an old quack.
    He laughed aloud, and told Charlie: “I’m drunk.”
    â€œGood,” Charlie said. “Have another.” He pointed to the bottle. “I’m going to spring my proposition on you in a little while. But, first, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get into something more comfortable.”
    Cornell laughed again, indicating Charlie’s ancient negligee, which had continued to lose feathers. Fresh beer stains had joined the egg yellow, fruit jam, and unidentifiable smears already in place.
    â€œMore comfortable? What, a towel?”
    Charlie’s answering smile made him suddenly queasy. Was Charlie homosexual? Perhaps he had been biding his time for a year and was now about to make the big push.
    Charlie lumbered into his little bedroom. Cornell rose unsteadily and shook some crumbs from his skirt. Then he got the compact from his purse and visited the john, an appalling place full of dirty towels and drying lingerie. He cleaned off the toilet seat with paper before sitting down and making water. He plucked at his hair in the spattered mirror and refreshed his makeup, which after dinner was always a little weary, particularly under the eyes.
    When he emerged, Charlie was standing in the bedroom doorway. Cornell felt himself going faint, his vision blurring as if he were swimming in murky water. He clutched the jamb of the bathroom door.
    Charlie advanced on him.
    Cornell shook his head violently.
    â€œI warn you, Charlie. I’ll defend myself. I may be somewhat smashed, but I’ll fight.”
    â€œWhat the hell are you talking about?” asked Charlie. “You’re drunker than I thought.”
    Almost screaming, Cornell demanded: “Why are you dressed as a woman?”
    For Charlie wore baggy corduroy slacks, a plaid wool shirt of the lumberjack type, tattered