translate into arbic:"That same day I went around Brooklyn running errands. As much as I
disliked that butler, he was not wrong: I needed new clothes. Moreover, I
considered that perhaps it had been Bevel himself who had instructed him to
tell me to get a new outfit. I decided to do this immediately, since I knew my
father would be out that afternoon and I did not want him to see me with
shopping bags.
It took some effort to convince the saleswoman at Martin’s, on Hoyt
Street, that although I wanted to look sharp, I had no desire to draw attention
to my clothes. She kept asking about my boss and what the office
environment was like. I gave evasive answers and, invariably, picked the
outfits she had discarded for being too frumpish.
“Someone as attractive as you . . . You shouldn’t be hiding behind these
mousy clothes,” she said before capitulating to my dun, dull wishes.
My next stop was our landlady. The only reason we had not been evicted
yet was that she loved my mother and therefore felt an obligation toward me.
But she disliked my father and his semi-clandestine press in almost the same
measure. And with each day we were late with the rent, I became more my
father’s daughter. It always took about an hour to pay her. She wanted the
money, but she also felt uncomfortable taking it and invariably felt obliged to
keep me at her door for a long time while we shared neighborhood gossip.
This illusion of closeness would cool off after two weeks and utterly vanish
by the end of the month.
Something similar happened at the stores where we had accounts. If I had
been ashamed to add to our tab for weeks and sometimes even months, the
shopkeepers were now ashamed to take the money that was rightfully theirs.
Their awkwardness led to long conversations on various trivial topics, after
which I was sent off with a small treat.I had a quiet dinner with my father, who asked no questions about where
all the food in the pantry had come from.
The following day I asked Jack to help me get a typewriter. I thought it
would give us something to do (our time together was increasingly aimless),
and perhaps he would enjoy an opportunity to show off his journalistic
knowledge. He had told me he had done some work for a few small papers in
Chicago, and I assumed from the description of his duties that he was well
versed in typewriters and other aspects of the office world.
We met at an office supply store in downtown Brooklyn, close to the
courts, that sold, rented and repaired typewriters. Jack, his hat tilted back, a
cigarette dangling off his lips, asked a lot of questions and tried different
machines. It was clear, however, that he knew nothing about typing. He
tested several models, hammering “alalalalalalalalalalala” as fast as he could
with his index fingers. While Jack talked to one of the salesmen, I quickly
tried a few typewriters, hoping he would not see me. As I was settling for a
secondhand Royal portable (even though the “e” was a bit over-inked, with a
blacked-out eye, and the “i” often undotted), he came over before I realized
and could stop typing. He said nothing, but I could sense his resentment. It
did not help that he saw me decline the installment option and pay the $27.50
in full.
On our way back he told me about his promising leads, scoops and
hunches. He was getting to know a lot of people in different newsrooms, and
his hope was that soon it would all come together—he just had to find the
perfect story for the perfect editor at the perfect paper. That was all he
needed: to get his foot in the door. Then he would be on his way to becoming
a columnist.
“It’s only a matter of time,” he said. “But time is getting . . .” He made an
awkward pause. “Expensive.”
I stopped and covered my mouth, horrified.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I never offered.” I reached into my purse.
“Oh no! I didn’t mean . . .”
“Let’s not go through that whole routine.” I handed him some money; he
stared at the sidewalk. “Please. Take it. For me.”He pocketed the bills quickly, without ever looking up, muttering words of
thanks and a promise to repay me. We walked on."