Call It Sleep (52 page)

—Hurry up! Look where it's dark, real dark … Look.… No … No good. See too much yet, stops it. Then shut then. Same thing. Like he said. It's inside and it's out. Like him with the light-guts. Now keep. How big did I—? Twentier I said. But not now. First you have to get it. After it's a twentier. Like the light in the hall, when I seen it. Gee, how I peed— Hurry up! So now you're standing on them—only alone. Nobody else is akey now. It's going to be all mine. Quarter I thought then—bigger it was. But it's round, so better twentier. So shut up! You're standing on them—you said that already. On your knees. Feel how they were? How—burn—like. Began to hurt just before Kushy wanted to fight and papa came. Hurry up! Down, look down! Can you see? Maybe. Nearly can't. But—Look! G'wan now! G'wan! 'Fore it goes! Let it down! One is—is a little bead. Real easy! Two is little bead. Faster! This—little. This—little This—faster. And that—him now—right over it. Long enough? Gee. Hope so! Right over!

Past drifting bubbles of grey and icy needles of grey, below a mousetrap, a cogwheel, below a step and a dwarf with a sack upon his back, past trampled snow and glass doors shutting, below the gleam on a turning knob and bird upon a lawn, sank the beads, gold figure on the cross swinging slowly, revolving, sank into massive gloom. At the floor of the vast pit of silence glimmered the round light, pulsed and glimmered like a coin.

—Touch it! Touch it! Drop!

And was gone!

—Aaa! Where? Where? Look harder! Bend closer! Get it again! Again!

And would not reappear.

“I'm gonna get it,” almost audibly.
“I am!”

His teeth gritted, head quivering in such desperate rage, the blood whirred in his ears. Like a tightened knot, his body hardened, hands clenched, breath dammed and stifled within him. He fished.

“I am!”

Now saliva drooled unheeded from his lips. Pent breath pressed veins in anguished bulges against his throat. His nostrils flickered scooping vainly at the air. And still he sought the depths, strangling. Then darkness, swirling and savage, caught him up like a wind of stone, pitched him spinning among palpable drum-beats, engulfed him in a brawling welter of ruined shapes—that parted—and he plunged down a wailing fathomless shaft. A streak of flame—and screaming nothingness.

The tortured breast rebelled, sucked up air in a squealing gasp. He collapsed against the bin behind him, leaned there with whirling senses … Slowly the roaring shadows quieted. Cloudy air displaced the giddy dark like a fixed despair.

—Lost it … (Leaden-slow his thought) Lost it … Covered up all.… Cellar-floor dirty … Like the nickel then … Gone. Gone.…

A sound in the yard outside. Inertia's thick buffer about the mind muffled it. Again. He listened. The hiss of shoes, stealthily on the stone outside the door approaching. He sat bolt upright, staring at the crack between door and jamb.

—Who? Can't call!

Pricked ears sifted the depths of the shadowy corridor where Esther and Leo were— All was hushed.

—Hope they hear! Hope! Hope! Gee! Ow! Be still!

The steps drew nearer—Unblinking eyes glued against the bar of light, he stuffed the beads in his pocket, crowded back against the corner, dropped his jaw to breathe in silence. The careful steps drew nearer. For the briefest instant like a figure in a cramped panel, Polly, lips thrust out in scared curiosity, paused in the crack of light and vanished. Soft footfalls behind the door, she appeared again in the murky frame between him and the door-edge. He saw her advance into the cellar, lift herself on tip-toe and cock her head from side to side, listening—

Murmurs beyond. A muffled giggle.

—Aaa (He clenched his teeth against the inner fury) Why didn't they keep still! Polly had heard them!

“No! No maw!” Louder, “Leggo!” The unseen door banged open.

“Aw, hey!”

“No! Lemme oud!” A scuffling. “Lemmeee—Unh!” As though someone had butted her, Esther's cry ended in a terrified grunt. “Polly!”

“Eee!” her sister squealed. “You!”

For a moment all three seemed to have lost their tongues.

“Aw, it's only yer sister, ain' it?” Leo bolstered up a shaky voice with a clash of skates.

“Yuh wuz wit' him in dere!” Polly's voice was a mixture of gloating and disbelief.

“I wuzn'!” Esther's shrill cry rose furiously. “I'll give yuh in a minute!”

“I seen yuh! I seen yuh! I knew yuh wouldn' comm donn by yuhself. Waid'll I tell!”

“Hey, wait a secon',” Leo hastily took control. “Wea's Davy? He'll tell yuh wot we wuz doin'? Hey Davy! We wuz playin' a trick on him, see? He's in dere! Betcha million!” A bin-door creaked. “Hey Davy!” A pause. “W'ea de hell—”

“Aaa, Davy!” Polly sneered venomously. “Yuh cowid! Don't blame it on sommbody else, 'cause yuh can't fool
me!
”

“Who's tryin' t' blame it on somebody else!” Leo was nettled. “He's hea I tell yuh—someplace. Hey Davy!”

“He is!” Esther maintained stormily. “He wuz wit' us!”

“Hey, Davy! C'm out wea'ver y'are! C'mon.” His voice rang through the cellar. “I'll bust ye one! Come on out!”

Shrunken with guilt and terror, David crammed himself deeper into the corner.

“He musta run away, de liddle bastid— Hey Davy!” He bellowed. “Ooo, waid'll I gitchoo!”

“Aaa, shod op!” Contemptuously from Polly. “Stop makin' believe!”

“Waddayuh lookin' at me faw?” Esther stormily.

“You know w'at!” Her sister answered significantly. “You know w'at.”

“W'at!”

“Snot! Yuh wuz playin' bad in dat place wit' him! Dat's watchoo wuz doin'! Wit' dat bum! Yuh t'ink I don' know?”

“I wuz not!” Esther screamed.

“Yuh wuz!”

“Who's a bum?” Leo's voice bullying.

“Who else? You! You took her in dere, yuh rotten bum!”

“Don' call me a bum!”

“I will so—yuh rotten bum!”

“I'll slap yuh one, yuh stinkin' sheeny!”

“Me! Wotta you? Ooo!” Her voice trailed off into horrified comprehension. “Oooh, w'en I tell—He's a goy too! Yuh doity Crischin, ged oud f'om my cella'—faw I call my modder. Ged oud!”

“Yuh mudder's ass! Call 'er, I dare ye! I'll rap de two o' yiz!”

“You leave her alone!” Esther turned on him fiercely. “Ged odda you! Go on! Ged oud!”

“Aw, shet up!” He was stung. “Ye wuz in dere yeself—w'ut're ye takin' her side fer?”

“Ooo! Hooo!” Esther burst into a loud betrayed wail. “Ged oud! Waaa!”

“Ged oud, yuh doity Crischin!” Polly's screech swelled above her sister's bawling. “Doity bum, ged oud!”

“Aw righ'—” mockingly. “Keep yer drawz on! G'wan fight it out yerself.” His voice retreated.

“Doity bum!”

“Sswt!” He whistled jeeringly from a distance. “Tell 'er wut I wuz doin', kid. Yuh jew hewhs! We wuz hidin' de balonee! Yaaa! Sheenies! Brrt!” He trumpeted. “Sheenies!” Skates clashed. The door slammed.

“Oooh! Hooo!” Esther's sobbing filled the cellar.

“Yuh oughta cry, yuh doity t'ing!” Polly lashed at her. “Good fuh yuh! Comm down wit' dat goyish bum in de cella'!”

“Y-y' ain' gonna t-tell.” Esther whined brokenly. “He made me! I didn' wanna go!”

“Made yuh!” scornfully. “Mama said yuh wuz in de back o' de staw. Yuh didn't have t' comm down—if yuh didn' wanna! I'm gonna tell!”

“No!” Her sister lifted a frantic wail. “Didn' I stop him f'om hittin' yuh? Didn' I? Poppa'll kill me if yuh tell 'im! You know!”

“So led 'im!” Stonily. “Den yuh won' go wit' goys no maw. Yuh always callin' me piss-in-bed, anyway! So dere!”

“I'll never call yuh again, Polly! Never! Never in all my life!”

“Yea, pooh! I b'lieve yuh!”

“I won't! I won't!”

“Lemme go!”

“Don't tell! Ow!”

“Lemme go!”

David, petrified in his niche of darkness saw her drag the screaming Esther after her toward the cellar door.

“Don't tell! Don't tell!”

“Lemme go! Yuh hea?” Polly seized the door-knob for support, wrenched her other hand free. “I
am
gonna—”

“Eee!” Esther screamed. “Look! Look!”

“Wa?” In spite of herself.

“It's him! Him! Davy!”

He had scrambled to his feet, cowering—

“He made me! He brung him!”

Cornered, he tensed for an opening.

“You!” Esther screamed. “Now I'm gonna give yuh—rotten liddle bestitt! It's your fault!” And suddenly she struck out with both hands, caught him flush on the cheeks, clawed.

With a gasp of pain, he ducked under her arms, butted past her. She pursued, squalling with rage, collared him again, pounded his back and head. As if in a nightmare, he struggled, silently in the dark to tear himself free.

“Mama!” Polly's scream at the other end. “Mama!”

“Polly!” Esther's hold loosened. “Polly! Wait, Polly!” She flew after her sister. “Wait! Don't tell! Don't tell! Polly! Polly!”

Her frenzied cry ringing in his ears, he flung himself at the street door, raced up the cellar stairs. Without caring whether any one marked him or not, he leaped out into the street and fled in horror toward Avenue D.

XV

HE HAD run and run, and now his own breath stabbed his lungs like a knife and his legs grew so heavy, they seemed to lift the sidewalk with them. Tottering with exhaustion, he dropped into a panicky, stumbling walk, clawed at his stockings, gasping so hoarsely, people turned to stare. Only one thought in the screaming chaos of terror and revulsion his mind had fallen into remained unbroken: To reach the cheder—to lose himself among the rest.

—Like I never came! Like I never came!

Now he ran, now he walked, now he ran again. And always the single goal before him—the cheder yard, the carefree din of the cheder. And always the single burden:

—Like I never camel Like I never came!

Fourth Street. In the flat smear of houses, he descried, or thought he did, the edge of his own on Ninth. It quickened his flagging legs, quelled somewhat the tumult and the fierce yapping pack within him and behind.

—Near house; Don't go. Go round. But tired, all tired out. No! Go round! Go round!

At Seventh, he cut west, entered Avenue C, and at Ninth, turned East again, dragging his faltering legs cheder-ward. He must hold gnashing memory at bay, He must! He must! He'd scream if he didn't forget! A furtive glance at his house as he reached the cheder entrance. He slipped into the hallway, hurried through.

The cheder yard. Haven! Haven at last! Several of the rabbi's pupils were there. Loiterers, late-comers, elfin and voluble, they squatted or sprawled in the dazzling sun, or propped idle, wagging heads against the blank wall of the strict cube which was the cheder. His heart sprang out to them; tears of deliverance lifted so brimming high in his eyes a breath would have spilled them. He had always been one of them, always been there, never been away. Silently, fears relaxing in the steeping tide of gratitude, he came down the wooden steps, approached. They looked up—

“Yaw last!”, said Izzy, languid and scrupulous.

He grinned ingratiatingly. “Yea.”

“Aftuh me!” Solly severely.

“Aftuh me!” Schloimee.

“Aftuh me!” Zuck, Lefty, Benny, Simkee decreed.

“Awri!” He was only too glad to be lorded over—the token of their accepting him, the token of their letting him share their precious aimlessness, innocence, laughter. “Yea, I'm last. I'm last.” And finding a place against the cheder wall, he squatted down. He focused his whole being upon them. He would not think now. He would only listen, only forget.

Solly was speaking—in his voice an immense and mournful yearning. “Wisht I had a chair like dat!”

“Me too! Yea! Wisht I had t'ree chairs, like dat.”

Their amens were also mournful as if little hope inspired them.

“So yuh don't have to gib'm all, do yuh?” Izzy fought back despair. “If yuh don' wanna play fuh 'em, waddayuh wanna give 'im all, if yuh god so moch?”

“Cauthye I wanthyloo, dayuth w'y'.” Benny was obdurate. Benny was also afflicted with a lateral emission—no word he uttered ever succeeded in reaching his lips, but instead splashed out through his missing teeth. But David was only too glad that Benny spoke so thickly. It meant that he had to concentrate all his faculties on what he said. In trying to divine Benny's meaning, one could forget all else. “If I blyibm duh ywully ylyod, den he wonthye hilyt me so moyuch, myaytlybe.”

“Yea, he geds a lodda hits,” sober Simkee reminded the rest. “De rebbeh never knows w'at he's tuckin' aboud.”

“Dat's righ'!” Izzy tacked into sympathy. “We know yuh gid hit a lot, Benny, bot one poinder ain' gonna make no differ'nce, is id? How moch yuh god?”

“A ylod.”

“How moch?”

“Thwenny thlyeb'm.”

“Twennyy seb'm!” they echoed marveling. “He's god 'nuff fuh a mont'!”

“So if yuh gib'm twenny-six?” Izzy persisted. “Won' he drop dead anyways? Nobody ever gab'm twenny-six! Only Hoish w'en he won 'em aftuh Wildy swiped 'em. Let's see 'em!”

After a moment of hesitation, Benny opened several buttons on his shirt, drew out a bundle of sticks neatly tied with a string, and displayed them fondly. They were sharpened at one end and were of the same length and color as pointers—though not quite so straight.

Necks were craning. Some sighed. Some gasped. Within David surge after surge of gratitude beat about his heart. Oh, he was glad to be among them! To forget!