Henry Roth - Call It Sleep

She laughed outright. “Don’t be foolish, Mr. Luter!”

“Mr. Luter!” He looked annoyed for a moment, then shrugged and smiled. “Now that you know me so well, why use the formal still?”

“Apparently I don’t know you so well.”

“It takes a little time,” he admitted. His gaze roved about the room and came to rest on David. “Perhaps you would like some refreshments?”

“No, but if you do, I can make some tea.”

“No, thanks,” he said solicitously, “don’t take the trouble. But I know what you would like — a little ice cream.”

“Please don’t bother.”

“Why, it’s no trouble. The young one there will go down for us.” He drew out a coin. “Here, you know where the candy store is. Go get some tutti frutti and chocolate. You like it don’t you?”

With troubled eyes David looked first at Luter, then at the coin. Beneath the table a hand gently pressed his thigh. His mother! What did she want?

“I don’t like it,” he faltered. “I don’t like ice cream.”

The fingers of the same hand tapped his knees ever so lightly. He had said the right thing.

“No? Tutti frutti ice cream? Candy then, you like that?”

“No.”

“I think it’s a little too late for him to have either,” said his mother.

“Well, I guess we won’t buy any then, since he’s going to bed soon.” Luter looked at his watch. “This is just the time I put him to bed last time, wasn’t it, my David?”

“Yes,” he hesitated fearful of blundering.

“I suppose he’s sleepy now,” Luter suggested encouragingly.

“He doesn’t look sleepy,” his mother, smoothed the hair back from his brow. “His eyes are still wide and bright.”

“I’m not sleepy.” That, at least, was true. He had never been so strangely stirred, never had he felt so near an abyss.

“We’ll let you stay up awhile then.”

There was a short space of silence. Luter frowned, emitted a faint smacking sound from the side of his mouth. “You don’t seem to have any of the usual womanly instincts.”

“Don’t I? It seems to me that I keep pretty closely to the well-trodden path.”

“Curiosity, for instance.”

“I had already lost that even before my marriage.”

“You only imagine it. But don’t misunderstand me, I merely meant curiosity about the package I left behind. It must be clear to you that I didn’t get what’s in it for my relatives’ sake.”

“Well, you’d better give it to them now.”

“Not so soon.” And when she didn’t answer, he shrugged, arose from the chair and got into his coat. “Hate me for it if I say it again, but you’re a comely woman. This time though I won’t forget my package.” He reached for the door-knob, turned. “But I may still come for dinner tomorrow?”

She laughed. “If you still haven’t tired of my cooking.”

“Not yet.” And chuckling. “Good-night. Good-night, little one. It must be a joy to have such a son.” He went out.

With a wry smile on her lips, she listened to the sound of his retreating steps. Then her brow puckered in disdain. “All are called men!” She sat for a moment gazing before her with troubled eyes. Presently her brow cleared; she tilted her head and peered into David’s eyes. “Are you worried about anything? Your look is so intent.”

“I don’t like him,” he confessed.

“Well, he’s gone now,” she said reassuringly. Let’s forget about him. We won’t even tell father he came, will we?”

“No.”

“Let’s go to bed then, it grows late.”

VII

ANOTHER week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it. The hidden tongue sprang into its groove.

“Oh, what nonsense!” She unlocked it again, looked up at the light and then at the windows.

David felt himself growing uneasy. Why did Thursdays have to roll around so soon? He was beginning to hate them as much as he did Sundays.

“Why must they make proof of everything before they’re satisfied?” Her lips formed and unformed a frown. “Well, there’s nothing to do but go. I’ll wash those dishes later.” She opened the door and turned out the light.

Bewildered, David followed her into the cold, gas-lit hallway.

“We’re going upstairs to Mrs. Mink.” She cast a hurried look over the bannister. “You can play with your friend Yussie.”

David wondered why she needed to bring that up. He hadn’t said anything about wanting to play with Yussie. In fact, he didn’t even feel like it. Why didn’t she just say she was running away, instead of making him feel guilty. He knew whom she was looking for when she looked over the bannister.

His mother knocked at the door. It was opened. Mrs. Mink stood on the threshold. At the sight of his mother, she beamed with pleasure.

“Hollo, Mrs. Schearl! Hollo! Hollo! Comm een!” She scratched her lustreless, black hair excitedly.

“I hope you don’t find my coming here untimely,” his mother smiled apologetically.

“No, as I live!” Mrs. Mink lapsed into Yiddish. “You’re wholly welcome! A guest — the rarest I have!” She dragged a chair forward. “Do sit down.”

Mrs. Mink was a flat-breasted woman with a sallow skin and small features. She had narrow shoulders and meager arms, and David always wondered when he saw her how the thin skin on her throat managed to hold back the heavy, bulging veins.

“I thought I would never have the pleasure of seeing you in my house,” she continued. “It was only the other day that I was telling our landlady — Look, Mrs. Schearl and I are neighbors, but we know nothing of each other. I dare not ask her up into my house. I’m afraid to. She looks so proud.”

“I, proud?”

“Yes, not proud, noble! You always walk with your head in the air — so! And even when you go to market, you dress like a lady. I’ve watched you often from the window, and I’ve said to my man— Come here! Look, that’s her! Do you see how tall she is! He is not home now, my picture of a spouse, he works late in the jewelry store. I know he will regret missing you.”

David found himself quickly tiring of Mrs. Mink’s rapid stream of words, and looking about saw that Annie was observing him. Yussie was nowhere to be seen. He tugged his mother’s hand, and when she bent over, asked for him.

“Yussie?” Mrs. Mink interrupted herself long enough to say. “He’s asleep.”

“Don’t wake him,” said his mother.

“That’s all right. I’ve got to send him to the delicatessen for some bread soon. Yussele!” she called.

His only answer was a resentful yawn.

“He’s coming soon,” she said reassuringly.

In a few minutes, Yussie came out. One of his stockings had fallen, and he trod on it, shuffling sleepily. He blinked, eyed David’s mother suspiciously a moment, and then sidled over to David, “W’y’s yuh mudder hea?”

“She jost came.”

“W’y’d she comm?”

“I donno.”

At this point Annie hobbled over. “Pull yuh stockin’ op, yuh slob!”

Obediently Yussie hoisted up his stocking. David could not help noticing how stiff and bare the white stocking hung behind the brace on Annie’s own leg.

“So yuh gonna stay by us?” asked Yussie eagerly.

“Yea.”

“H’ray! C’mon inna fron’room.” He grabbed David’s arm. “I godda—”

But David had stopped. “I’m goin’ inna fron’ room, mama.”

Turning from the chattering Mrs. Mink, David’s mother smiled at him in slight distress and nodded.

“Waid’ll I show yuh wod we god,” Yussie dragged him into the frontroom.