Dreiser, Theodore, 1871-1945; Journalists -- United States -- Biography; Novelists, American -- 20th century -- Biography
In addition, home life had become a horrible burden. The house was badly
kept and the meals were wretched. Being of a quarrelsome, fault-finding
disposition and not having M—— or T—— to fight with, C—— now turned her
attentions to E—— and myself. We did not do this and that; the burden of
the work was left to her. By degrees I grew into a kind of servant.
Being told one April Friday of some needs that I must supply, and having
decided that I could not endure either this abode or my present work, I
took my fate in my hands and the next day resigned my job, having in my
possession sixty-five dollars. I was now determined, come what might,
never to take another job except one of reporting unless I was actually
driven to it by starvation, and in this mood I came home and announced
that I had lost my position and that this “home” would therefore have to
be given up. And how glad I was! Now I should be rid of this dull flat,
which was so colorless and burdensome. As I see it now, my sister
sensibly enough from her point of view, perhaps, was figuring that E——
and I, as dutiful brothers, should support her while she spent all her
money on clothes. I came to dislike her almost as much as I did M——, and
told her gladly this same day that we could not live here any longer. In
consequence the furniture company was notified to come and get the
furniture. Our lease of the place being only from month to month, it was
easy enough to depart at once. E—— and I were to share a room at the de
G——s for a dollar and a half a week each, such meals as I ate there to
be paid for at the rate of twenty-five cents each.
Then and there, as I have since noted with a kind of fatalistic
curiosity, the last phase of my rather troublesome youth began. Up to
and even including this last move to Taylor Street I had been intimately
identified, in spirit at least, with our family and its concentrated
home life. During my mother’s life, of course, I had felt that wherever
she was was home; after her death it was the house in which she had
lived that held me, quite as much as it was my father and those of us
who remained together to keep up in some manner the family spirit. When
the spell of this began to lessen, owing to bitter recrimination and the
continuous development of individuality in all of us, this new branch
home established by three of us seemed something of the old place and
spiritually allied to it; but when it fell, and the old home broke up at
about the same time, I felt completely adrift.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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