Call It Sleep (58 page)

“Of course!” Aunt Bertha outstripped him. “Of course, you haven't any money.” She dug her elbow viciously into her husband's ribs. “That's what I told him. To the very words! Didn't I?”

Almost giddy with terror and guilt, David had dodged behind his mother. At her side stood his father, arms folded across his chest, aloof, nostrils still slowly flaring in the ebb and flow of passion. In the greying light, his face looked like stone, only the nostrils and the crooked vein on his brow alive. Then he uncrossed his arms. His dense, smoldering eyes traveled from face to face, brushed David's who jerked his head away in panic, traveled on and returned, cleaving there. Without turning to look, David knew himself regarded, so palpable was that gaze, so like a pressure. Enveloping him, it seemed to sap him from without. He grew dizzy, reached out numb hands for his mother's dress, hung there faintly. His father shifted his gaze. And as though he had been struggling under water until this moment, David gulped down breath, heard sounds again, voices.

“And you won't sit down?” His mother was asking solicitously. “You're tired, both of you. I can see it. Why, supper for two more would take no longer. Please stay!”

“No! No! Thanks, sister!” Aunt Bertha was positive. “But if he would go hunting for rusty horseshoes before he's had his supper, why he can wait a little longer—I'm as tired as he is. And I warned him!”

“I'm sorry we can't help you, Nathan. You know we would if we had it! Oh! It's all so mixed! I'm confused! Why!” She laughed ruefully. “If it weren't so absurd, Nathan, it would be flattering that you should think we had any money.”

Biting his lips, Uncle Nathan stared at the floor, swayed as if he might fall. “I have nothing to say.” he answered dully. “She's said it all.”

“You see?” There was a note of triumph in Aunt Bertha's voice. “He's ashamed of himself now. But now I like him!” She began nudging him toward the door. “Now he's my man and as good a man as ever ate prunes with his meat. Come, good heart! Mrs. Zimmerman is waiting— My customers will think I'm burying you.”

“You've a cunning way!” He answered, shaking her off sullenly. “You've clogged my chimney well! But you wait! You'll laugh in convulsion yet!”

“Come! Come!” She gave him a push toward the door. “Hoist up your nose! That venture you want money for can wait!”

Uncle Nathan wrested his arm away, shook a desperate, baffled finger at his wife. “A curse on you and your money and your whole story! I'll stay! I'll speak!”

Aunt Bertha ignored him, opened the door. “Good night, sister! Forgive him! He's always been a good husband, but to-night— You know how men are! When they're a little unstrung, they revel in it. Come, you!”

Cowering behind his mother, David watched Aunt Bertha drag her stubborn husband toward the door. Their going would be no deliverance—one doom postponed, another waiting. There could be no less terror if they stayed, or if they went. Whatever way the mind turned it faced only fear. This he had escaped. Aunt Bertha had saved him. But his father! His father again! Their going abandoned him to that fury! But—

“Wait!”

For the first time since they had come, his father spoke. And now he uncrossed his arms and stalked suddenly to the door.

“Wait!” He gripped Uncle Nathan's shoulder, towered above him. “Come back!”

“What do you want of my man!” Aunt Bertha snapped in angry surprise. “You let him alone. He's distraught enough without you troubling him. Come, Nathan!” She redoubled her tugging at the other shoulder.

“It's you who should let him alone!” her brother-in-law growled dangerously. “You and your cursed deceit! Come in, Nathan!”

Staring amazed from face to face, Uncle Nathan could muster no more than a bewildered grunt.

“I say let him go!” Aunt Bertha shrieked furiously. “Wild beast, take your paws off!”

“When I'm done!”

“Albert! Albert!” his mother's frightened voice. “What are you doing! Let him alone!”

“No! No! Not till he's spoken!”

For a moment, half in the thickening light of the kitchen, half in the gloom of the corridor, they wrestled for him, Uncle Nathan's pale, alarmed face, bobbing back and forth between them, and all three struggling figures, shadowy, unreal as nightmare. A moment longer, and with one vicious yank, David's father pulled them back into the room, and with such force, the other man pitched forward, his hat flying to the floor. He slammed the door.

“Listen to me, Nathan!” He drummed his stiff hand against the other man's chest. “You came here to say something, now say it. Stifle that she-ass and her guile! Say it! It isn't money!”

“N-nothing! Nothing! So help me, G-God!” Before the thrust of the other's hand, Uncle Nathan fell back against his wife. “Bertha told you everything! May evil befall me if she didn't! A store! I wanted! I saw! That was all! No, Bertha?”

“You fool!” She spat at her husband. “Didn't I warn you not to come here! Didn't I tell you you'd groan and remember? I've a good mind to—What do you want of him?” She wheeled furiously on her brother-in-law. “You let him alone, ungovernable beast! Do you hear? He's come for money and nothing else! How many times do you want to be told? I don't have to endure any more of your rages! Remember that!”

“Hold your tongue!” His father was beginning to quiver. “You treacherous cow! I know you of old. I know what you've already done. Speak, Nathan!” He smashed his fist down on the wash tub. “Don't let her trick you! Speak! Whatever it is! Have no fear of me! Only the truth! I have reasons! It may do me good to hear!”

“What's he saying?” Aunt Bertha's eyes bulged. “What new insanity gripes him!”

“Albert, I beg of you!” his mother had seized her husband's arm. “If you've any quarrel, it's with me. Let the man alone. He's told you all.”

“Has he? So you think! Or pretend, maybe! But I know better! I have eyes! I have seen! Will you speak?” Wrath stretched him to his full height. Teeth bared, he advanced, dwarfing the other man who cowered.

“I-I've already s-said everything,” his lips trembling, Uncle Nathan reached behind him for the door. “I must leave! Bertha! Come!”

But David's father had rammed his palm against the door.

“You'll wait! You hear me? You'll wait till you answer me one thing! And you'll answer it!”

“W-what do you want?”

“Why, when you opened your mouth to speak—Before that she-ass brayed you out of words and will—Why did you stare at him?” He hammered the air in David's direction. “Why that look? What was it you were trying to say about him?”

“I—I have nothing to say. I didn't look at him. Let me alone in God's will. Genya! Bertha! Don't let him quarrel with me.”

“Albert! Albert! Stop torturing the man!”

“A curse on you! You fiend!” Aunt Bertha tried to squeeze in between them “You madman! Let him alone!”

He flung her viciously aside. “And you, will you tell me what he did? Or do you want my fury to burst—!”

“Oh! Oh! Woe me! Woe me!” Aunt Bertha filled the room with a loud gasping and lament. “Woe me! Did you see what he did? He threw me? And me with a child in my belly. Monster! Mad dog! It's not drawers you've ripped this time. It's a child you've destroyed! On your head my miscarriage. Oh you'll pay for this! May they hang you. May you—”

“Not if you had twins would it trouble me. Your breed is well destroyed. But I will find out what he did. That brat there! I'm waiting!” His voice became strangled. “I tell you I'm at the end of my patience!”

Uncle Nathan began to sag as though about to faint.

“He—uh—uh— oy! oy! He—!”

“Not a word!” Aunt Bertha screamed. “Open that door or I'll shriek for help! Let us out!”

They faced each other in a silence so awful it seemed as if the very room would burst with the tension of it.

Blind with terror, unnoticed by any, David had already reeled toward the stove. (
—It's there! It's there!
) A tortured, anguished voice babbled within him. (
—It's there! She put it there! It's there!
) Groping, tottering hands reached into the dark niche between the stove and the wall—

“Speak!” In the shrunken, shadowy room, his father had become all voice, and his voice struck with the brunt of thunder.

“Bertha!” Uncle Nathan wailed. “Save me! Save me, Bertha! He's going to strike! Bertha! Bertha!”

“Help!” she screamed. “Let go the door! Help! Help! Call! Genya, throw up the window! Help!”

“Albert! Albert! Have mercy!”

“Speak!” Above their screaming, the horrible gritting of his teeth.

“I— I— uh—he— it was he— uh. Oh, Bertha! Noth—”

“Anh!” That insensate snarl. The shadowy arm drew back. “You—!”

“Papa!”

The bent arm hung in air, hung motionless. The writhing face above it turned.

“Papa!” In the swirling, crumbling, darkened mind, that one compulsion rallied the body and the brain like a standard. A dream? No, not a dream. Not a dream nor the memory of a dream. An act, ordained, foreseen, inevitable as this very moment, a channel of expertness, imbued for ages, reiterated for ages, familiar as breath.

He approached. The rest stood spellbound.

“I— It was me, papa—”

“David! Child!” His mother sprang toward him. “What have you got in your hand!”

But before she could reach him, he had lifted the broken whip into his father's curling fingers.

“David!” She seized him, drew him out of danger. “A whip! Near him! What are you doing!”

“This?” The lids dropped over his father's consuming eyes. “Why do you—? Why is this given? You know what happened to this? Is it your fate you're begging for?”

“I— I— Please, papa!”

“You shan't touch him! You hear me, Albert! I won't endure it!” All entreaty, all timidity had vanished, in its stead a fierce resolve. She bowed over David like a ledge of rock. “Whatever he's done or anyone thinks he's done, you shan't touch him!”

“Band against the alien, the stranger!” His father's voice was hollow and perilous, “But let me hear him!”

“Say nothing, child!” Aunt Bertha's warning cry.

But he was already speaking. And the words he spoke were like staggering burdens he bore up a great steep where his own sighs battered him, where he floundered in his own tears.

“I was—I was on—the roof. Papa! I was on the roof! And there was a b-boy. A big one—and—and he had a kite—k-kite, they called it. Kite—goes h-higher than r-roofs—it goes—”

“What are you talking about!” His father ground. “Stop your candle-gutter! Hurry!”

“I'm—I'm—” He gasped for breath.

“God's fool!” Aunt Bertha rasped under her breath. “My man! My man! May earth gape for you this very hour! You see what you've wrought!”

“Me?” Uncle Nathan groaned. “My fault? How did I—”

“So—s-somebody—wanted to take it. The k-kite. And I called. And I said—look out! Look out! So I—I was his friend. Leo. He had skates and then—Ow! Papa! Papa! And we went to Aunt Bertha's. And we got Esther on the other side—in the yard. He got her—And he gave her the skates. And then, ow! Ow! He took her in—in the cellar. And he—he—”

“He what!” The implacable voice was like a goad.

“I don't know! Ow! He p-played—he played—bad!”

“Anh!”

“Don't you come near him!” his mother screamed. “Don't you dare! That's enough, child! Hush! That's enough!”

“H-he did! Not me, Papa! Papa, not me! I didn't! Ow! Papa! Papa!” He clung frenziedly to his mother.

“That's hers! Her spawn! Mark me! Hers!” He seemed to be stifling in a wild insane joy. “Not mine! Not a jot of me! Bertha, cow! Not mine! You, Nathan! Rouse your sheep-wits! Your mate's betrayed my wife! Do you know it? Blabbed her secret! Told him whose he was. An organist somewhere. How I harbored a goy's get! A rake! A rogue's! His and hers! But not mine! I knew it! I knew it all the time! And now I'm driving her out! Her and him, the brat! Let him beat her in time to come. But I'm free! He's no part of me! I'm free!”

“He's mad!” The other two whispered hoarsely and shrank away.

“Hear me!” He was slavering at the mouth. “I nurtured him! Three years I throttled surmise, I was the beast of burden! Good fortune I never met! Happiness never! Joy never! And—and that was right! Why should I meet anything but misfortune! That was right! I was tainted. I was bridled with another's sin. But for that—for all that suffering I have one privilege! Who will deny me? Who? One privilege! To wreak! To quench! Once!”

And before anyone could move, he had lunged forward at David's mother.

“Ow! Papa! Papa! Don't!”

Those steel fingers closed like a crunching trap on David's shoulders—yanked him out of her hands. And the whip! The whip in air! And—

“Ow! Ow! Papa! Ow!”

Bit like a brand across his back. Again! Again! And he fell howling to the floor.

His mother screamed. He felt himself grabbed, pulled to his feet, dragged away. And now his aunt was screaming, Uncle Nathan's hoarse outcry swelling the tumult. In the shadows, figures swayed, grappled—And suddenly his father's voice, exultant, possessed, hypnotic—

“What's that? That! Look! Look at the floor! There! Who disbelieves me now? Look what's lying there! There where he fell! A sign! A sign I tell you! Who doubts? A sign!”

“Unh!” Uncle Nathan grunted as though in sudden pain.

“Woe me!” Aunt Bertha gasped in horror. “It's—! What! No!”

Terror impinging on terror, David squirmed about in his mother's arms—looked down—