Джон Краули - New Haven Noir

On Saturday mornings the boy’s father would come to Vacation Bible School. He wore the same black suit he wore for Sunday services. Miss Deveaux would warn the kids to be on their best behavior while the senior deacon was talking. Then she would fold her hands and sit quietly, just like the kids. The boy’s father would stand in the front of the room. He would talk about why it was important to listen to their elders and do what they were told. He would tell them how God had put them on this earth not to do what they wanted but to do what was right. He would tell them how the only way to know what was right was to listen to their parents and their teachers and go to church and also read the Bible with their families. Sometimes he would go around the room and ask each of the kids their favorite Bible verse. Some of the kids would say things like John 14:6 or Matthew 8:27, and some would say things like the story about the loaves and the fishes. His father would nod and go on to the next kid. But if one of them didn’t have an answer, his father would write a note to the parents, and the kid would have to bring it back the next day signed. And the kids who didn’t know any Bible verses were always so embarrassed that they knew five by the next time the boy’s father came. The fact that the kids were all scared of his father was another reason the boy was so proud of him, even if he was scared of him too.

After Vacation Bible School on Saturdays, the family would climb into the big black Buick and go motoring. That was what the boy’s father called it, motoring. Nana usually stayed home. Sometimes they motored to the beach. Sometimes they motored to a state park. But what the boy loved best was when they would motor up to West Rock and park by the fence and get out of the car and watch the men blasting a tunnel through the mountain. The men wore helmets with lights on them. They would go into the tunnel pushing a cart on a track and a little while later there would be a big explosion. The fence would shake. The boy would think about Christopher getting his leg blown off by a mine. But it looked like a very exciting job. All of the men digging the tunnel were white. The boy watched closely for any injuries. It’s dangerous work, his father would say as they motored back home in the shiny black Buick. Let’s remember to pray for them tonight. His father had been in the war too but he still had both of his legs. The boy wondered if the men digging the tunnel prayed for the Negroes.

Vacation Bible School had Mondays off, and so the boy would stay home all day with Nana. After he did his chores she would let him read comic books and sometimes even listen to the radio. When his parents were home, they usually listened to music or shows with important-sounding names like America’s Town Meeting of the Air . But Nana liked to sit in her room with her eyes closed and her feet up and listen to the radio preachers. Or she might tune in Aunt Jenny’s Real Life Stories and listen to the recipes and say things like, No, no, Jenny, that’s wrong, you don’t use paprika. Nana was always complaining about the heat, so the boy would go down to the kitchen and pour her some lemonade even though his mother did not really allow it upstairs. He would sit with Nana and rub her feet. When it was the boy’s turn to pick a radio show, he chose The Answer Man and Ripley’s Believe It or Not! And if he did a few extra chores, Nana might let him listen to The All-Star Western Theatre or The Lone Ranger, even though she knew his father disapproved. But there she would draw the line. The other kids were always talking about Amos ’n’ Andy and Baby Snooks , but Nana would say, No, boy, you know what your father says, they are forbidden in his house. Then she would close her eyes again. Nana’s feet were big and wrinkled and knobby. Sometimes while the boy rubbed her feet she would call him by his father’s name.

Then one Friday Nana could not get out of bed. The boy’s mother took her to Grace — New Haven Hospital and came home that night and told the boy’s father that they were keeping her in the ward while they did some tests. His father nodded his stern head and went out on the porch. The boy asked what was wrong and his mother said to leave his father alone just now. They stood by the parlor window and looked out at the dark street. After a while the boy asked his mother if having tests meant that Nana was going to die. His mother’s eyes got teary and she gave him a hug and kissed him and took him upstairs to wash and say his prayers and get tucked in.

On Sunday the pastor asked everybody to pray for Nana. He called her Our Sister. After church his parents took him to the hospital. It was a big brick building with dark hallways. It smelled. There was a new wing that was brighter but Nana was in the old part. There were twelve beds in her ward and there was a woman in every one of them. A lot of them had bandages, and a lot of the bandages were dirty. There wasn’t much light because the windows were mostly blocked by the building next door. There were liquids spilled on the floor. There seemed to be only one nurse. Nana was in the last bed, down by the wall. Screens were set up between the beds. Each bed had a wooden chair, so his mother sat next to Nana and held her hand, and his father stood on the other side and held her other hand. The boy wanted to rub Nana’s feet but they were covered with a sheet. His mother and father did not pay attention to him, so he decided to go look at the other women. No one seemed to mind as he wandered along the row of beds, peering past the screens, trying not to step in any of the spills. He noticed that all of the women in the ward were Negroes. Maybe white people never got sick.

That night the family ate cold fried chicken from the Frigidaire. His mother did not believe in leftovers on Sunday but she served them anyway. She seemed sad. His father looked just as stern as he did every other day. He scolded the boy for getting crumbs on the cloth. He scolded the boy for being too slow clearing the table. After prayers, he told the boy that because Nana was in the hospital, she would not be able to take care of him tomorrow. The boy wondered if that meant he would be able to listen to Baby Snooks . But his father was still talking. Neither I nor your mother can take a day off just now, he said, so you will have to go with me to work tomorrow.

The boy was surprised. To the hotel? he asked.

That’s where I work, his father said. Pray for Nana tonight, he said, and his voice sounded funny.

In bed that night the boy could hardly sleep. The hotel! He had never seen his father at work at the hotel. His father never talked about what he did there. But the boy was proud that his father worked at the hotel. It was taller than the church spires on the Green. It was taller than almost all of Yale. It was built out of red bricks, except the top stories, which were covered in white stone. People were always talking about the time Babe Ruth had stayed there. And Albert Einstein, although the boy only knew he was famous; he did not know exactly who he was. The president of the United States had stayed there too, although the boy had no idea which president. The other kids said the hotel had even been in a Hollywood movie, but the boy wasn’t sure whether to believe them.

On Monday morning the boy’s father put on a dark suit and a white shirt and a dark tie. He carefully combed his hair. He told the boy to put on nice clothes and his new blue shoes. They boarded the trolley even though the hotel was not that far away. His father said, We can’t afford to be sweaty. The boy liked the streetcar, the way it clacked along the tracks ignoring the other traffic. The engineer would blow his horn and the cars would get out of the way. Some of the drivers honked back. The boy listened to the crackle of the pantograph. He said it would be fun to drive a trolley when he grew up. His father said, I expect more than that of you. Besides, he continued, the city will be getting rid of the streetcars soon and there will only be the buses left. The boy asked why.