Джон Краули - New Haven Noir

Money, his father said, with that stern disapproving look.

The boy gazed out the window as they passed Yale. He was watching for blue professor monsters. But he only saw the big kids who went there. All of them were white. Nana had told him that when his father was young he used to shine shoes for the Yale kids. He was not allowed to go into the buildings where the boys lived, she said, so he would stand under the window and the Yale kids would throw their shoes outside. He would take them home and shine them up and bring them back the next day. He would knock and one of the Yale kids would open the door. He would take the shoes and say, Wait here. Then he would close the door. The boy’s father would wait. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Sometimes half an hour. Then the same Yale kid would open the door again. He would pay the boy’s father for the shoes he shined, fifteen cents a pair. That was a lot of money in those days, Nana would say. A lot of money.

The boy and his father got off the trolley at the corner of Chapel and College. The boy took his father’s hand. He stared up at the hotel. He was very excited. They walked right past the big glass doors. His father did not even turn to look. The boy was surprised. Aren’t we going in? he asked. His father told him to shush. They walked around the side all the way to the back where there was a wooden door that said Staff . Inside was a hallway. It was very crowded. People were walking this way and that. Most of them wore brown uniforms. The men had brown hats with shiny black bills. The women had little brown caps. The boy was proud of his father again because he was wearing a suit. There were a lot of doors in the hallway. One of them said Staff Men Dressing . His father told him to wait here. He went in. The boy waited. There was nowhere to sit so he stood up. There were notices on the wall about all the things the staff was not allowed to do while on duty. The door opened and a tall man came out. He was wearing the brown uniform and the brown hat with the shiny black bill. He walked straight toward the boy and held out his hand and at first the boy was scared until he saw that the man was his father. His father took his hand and led him to another room. The sign said Men Staff Lounge . The letters were faded. Inside were some old tables and chairs. A couple of men were sitting by the window with their uniform blouses open. They were smoking cigarettes. The boy’s father drew him into a corner and pointed to a bench and said he had to stay here and be quiet all day. The boy could not stop staring at this stranger in his brown uniform. His father said he would have a break in three hours and he would come and take him to the bathroom. He said there was a drinking fountain in the hall. His father was starting to say more when a man walked into the room and went straight up to him like people always did on the street. The boy wondered if he needed advice. But the man did not ask the boy’s father for advice or shake his hand. The man was fat and white and bald. He called the boy’s father by his Christian name and told him he was late and he’d better get about it if he expected to keep this job. Then he looked down.

Oh, he said. Who’s this?

He’s my son, sir, said the boy’s father. With his grandmother in the hospital, I’m afraid—

The fat white man interrupted him. He spoke to the boy directly. You just keep out of the way, boy, he said. We can’t be having you causing any trouble now, can we?

The boy said, No sir.

The fat white man smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. Then he walked away. The boy’s father had a funny look on his face, a look the boy had never seen before. He took his son’s hand and sat him on the bench.

Stay right here until I get back, he said. Do you understand?

Yes sir, the boy said.

His father left.

For a while the boy sat there. He was embarrassed. He had never seen anybody talk to his father like that. He wondered who the fat man was. Other men kept walking in and out in their uniforms. One or two of them glanced his way but mostly they did not pay him any attention at all. The boy sat on the bench. He glanced down at his shiny blue shoes. He was still upset about the way the fat white man had talked to his father. The boy kept expecting his father to come back, but when he looked at the big clock only half an hour had gone by. Finally he could not stand to wait any longer. It was wrong to talk to his father that way. He would have to find somebody to tell. He slipped off the bench and walked down the hall the way his father had gone. Nobody stopped him. He opened the door. He was in a big kitchen. He smelled fried food. He smelled spices. There was a lot of yelling back and forth. He saw the people in uniform going out a little passage off to the side, so he went that way too. He wound up in some kind of room with shelves and suitcases. He went out another door. He was in the lobby. The lobby was very bright and cheerful. The floor was tiled. The ceiling was two stories high. There were chandeliers. There was music. White people in fancy clothes were coming in through the front doors. Luggage stood on shining gold carts. Black men in uniforms pushed the carts. One of the men was his father. He was walking with a young white couple, a man and a woman, pushing their luggage on a golden cart. He walked with the couple to the front desk. The man was wearing one of those Yale scarves. He turned to the boy’s father and said, Thanks, boy, and gave him some money. His father said, Thank you, sir, that’s very generous, and if there’s anything else I can do for you, just call down and ask for me. He gave them his Christian name. The white couple was talking to the clerk behind the desk. The boy’s father just stood there waiting with the cart. Then the clerk handed over the key and the boy’s father and the white couple went off toward the elevator. The boy followed them. His father said, I’ll meet you upstairs with the bags, sir. The white man turned around. He said, Can you shine my shoes for me and have them back in an hour? His father said, Of course I can, sir. It would be my pleasure. Shall I pick them up when we’re upstairs? The white man said, Well, I can’t very well give them to you now, can I? Not when they’re still on my feet. His father nodded his head and smiled and said, No sir, I expect you’re right. Here’s the elevator now, sir. Another Negro in a uniform stood inside. His father said, Take these nice young folks to the eleventh floor. He said to the white man, I’ll see you upstairs, sir.

The elevator doors closed. His father rolled the cart down another hallway. The boy stood there staring. He had never seen his father smile before. Not like that.

When his father was gone, the boy went back into the room with the suitcases and back into the little passage and back into the kitchen and back into the hallway and back into Men Staff Lounge . He sat on the bench again. He sat there for two more hours. His father came in, stern and unsmiling. He took the boy to the bathroom. He gave the boy an apple and a peanut butter sandwich to eat. He said, You’ll only have to sit here a few more hours, son. I’m leaving early today.

The boy sat on the bench for three more hours. Then his father came back. He asked if the boy had to go to the bathroom. The boy said no. They went out into the hall. His father went into Staff Men Dressing . He was out fifteen minutes later, back in his suit and crisp white shirt. He took the boy’s hand and they left the hotel. Across the street was an ice cream shop. He bought the boy a cone and they walked to the trolley stop. His father hardly said a word on the ride home. They passed Yale again. The boy looked out at the stone towers with their long windows and wondered how it would feel to be one of the kids inside throwing his shoes out.