I'll get you down if you don't

One time when it was the first of the month and there 
were curt notes from the water company and the rent wasn’t 
paid and a manuscript had come back from Colliefs and 
the cartoons had come back from The New Yorker and 
pleurisy was hurting Tom pretty badly, he went into the 
bedroom and lay down on the bed. 

Mary came softly in, for the blue-grey colour of his gloom 
had seeped out under the door and through the keyhole. 
She had a little bouquet of candytuft in a collar of paper 
lace. 

‘‘Smell,” she said and held the bouquet to his nose. He 
smelled the flowers and said nothing. “Do you know what 
day this is?” she asked and thought wildly for something to 
make it a bright day. 

Tom said : “Why don’t we face it for once? We’re down. 
We’re going under. What’s the good kidding ourselves?” 

“No we’re not,” said Mary. “We’re magic people; We 
always have been. Remember that ten dollars you found in 
a book — ^remember when your cousin sent you five dollars? 
Nothing can happen to us.” 

“Well, it has happened,” said Tom. “I’m sorry,” he said. 
“I just can’t talk myself out of it this time. I’m sick of 
pretending everything. For once I’d like to have it real — 
just for once.” 

"I thought of giving a little party tonight,” said Mary. 

“On what? You’re not going to cut out the baked ham 
picture from a magazine again and serve it on a platter, 
are you? I’m sick of that kind of kidding. It isn’t funny 
any more. It’s sad.” 

“I could give a little party,” she insisted. “Just a small 
affair . Nobody will dress. It’s the anniversary of the found- 
ing of the Bloomer League — ^you didn’t even remember 
that.” 

“It’s no use,” said Tom. ‘T know it’s mean, but I just 
can’t rise to it. Why don’t you just go out and shut the 
door and leave me alone? I’ll get you down if you don’t.” 

She looked at him closely and saw that he meant it. Mary 
walked quietly out and shut the door, and Tom turned over 
on the bed and put his face down between his arms. He 
could hear her rustling about in the other room. 

Steinbeck, Cannery Row