She found them facing off in the street in front of the theater, Frank with fists raised, John holding up his hands in surrender. “This whole conversation is preposterous,” John said. “I’m not going to fight you, Frank.” His arms dropped to his sides. “Can we just agree that this was a misunderstanding and walk away in peace?”
If anything, this incensed Frank even more. “A misunderstanding? Do you think I’m stupid? I know what I saw, and what I saw was you moving closer to Alice, practically drooling over her.” He noticed Pearl standing on the sidewalk. “You saw it too, didn’t you, Pearl?”
She hadn’t counted on being drawn into the conflict. There was no good way to answer his question without fanning the flames of his anger. If she disagreed, he’d be furious, and if she agreed, he’d turn on John. She didn’t want that to happen. Yes, she’d seen John move closer and closer to Alice, but he hadn’t actually touched her, and he did seem impressed by her piano playing, so perhaps that part was true.
John had said the conversation was preposterous, but what Pearl found preposterous was the notion of two young men fighting over Alice. Alice, of all people! Alice, who canned all their vegetables; Alice, who scrubbed the floors, cooked their meals, and mended their clothing. She was a drudge, caring nothing for her own appearance, putting everyone else first. Her hands were calloused and her skin tanned from hanging laundry and weeding the garden. She had little interest in the newest fashions and dressed the same way their mother had. Reading the newspaper was what she did for fun. Alice was already an old maid; she just hadn’t reached the right age yet.
“Pearl?” Frank shouted. “You saw him making eyes at Alice, trying to romance her, didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “I was watching the show. I didn’t see anything.”
“I will not fight you,” John said. “I’m sorry you misunderstood, but your anger, sir, is misplaced. And if Alice was not offended, I don’t think it’s your place to take umbrage on her behalf.”
“Umbrage?” Frank mocked with a sneer. “College boy. You with your big words. You think you’re better than everyone else.”
“Well, not everyone else,” John said pleasantly. “Look, Frank, getting better acquainted with you has been a delight, but I’m not going to fight with you, so there’s no point in furthering this discussion.”
He turned and walked away, presumably heading to the back alley to wait by the wagon.
“You’re a chicken!” Frank yelled. “You come back here right now, or I’ll tell everyone you were too afraid to fight for Alice.”
John didn’t turn around. “Good evening, Frank.” He threw up one arm as if to say farewell.
Frank took a running start and slammed into John’s back, throwing his arms around the other man’s upper body. As Pearl watched, John tried unsuccessfully to shake him off. She ran into the street, yelling, “Stop it, Frank! Leave him alone.”
John spun in a circle, and Frank held tighter, saying, “Fight me like a man, you coward!”
“Stop it, both of you. Just stop it!” Pearl was ready to pummel Frank with her fists, but before she could, a hand reached out and held her back. Howie.
“Come back inside, Pearl,” Howie said, his voice in her ear. “Let them settle this on their own.”
“Leave me alone, Howie.” She struggled to get free of him.
Down the street, the two men grappled, Frank not letting go. Round and round they went until John, realizing he couldn’t break free from Frank’s grip, bent his knees and leaned forward. Thrown off-balance, Frank flipped over John’s head and landed on his back in the street. John stood over him. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Frank, but you left me with no choice. Now let’s be gentlemen and part on friendly terms.”
Frank sat up, rubbing the back of his head. John held out a hand to help him up, but Frank smacked it away, speaking through gritted teeth, his words a snarl. “You bastard.”
“Good evening, Frank.” John stepped away and went down the street, turning the corner and disappearing from sight.
Howie went to Frank, extended a hand, and helped him to his feet. Frank brushed off the front of his shirt. “I’m going to get him,” he said. “No one makes a fool out of me.” From the sidewalk, Pearl watched, enthralled by his show of manly rage. Her own father never raised his voice and rarely appeared to be angry.