Henry Roth - Call It Sleep

“Waauh! I didn’ do nottin’!” Yitzchuck raised a terrified whine.

“Who asked you to speak? Come here!”

“Wadda yuh wan’ f’om me?” Yitzchuck prepared to blubber.

“Sit here.” He beckoned to the end of the bench which was nearest the reading table. “And don’t speak to me in goyish. Out of there, you! And you, David, sit where you are— Simke!”

“Yea.”

“Beside him. Srool! Moishe! Avrum! Yankel! Schulim!” He was gathering all the younger students into a group. “Schmiel! And you Meyer, sit here.” With a warning glance he went over to the closet behind his chair and drew out a number of small books.

“Aaa! Phuh!” Yitzchuck spat out in a whisper. “De lousy Hagaddah again!”

They sat silent until the rabbi returned and distributed the books. Moishe, seated a short distance away from David dropped his, but then pounced upon it hastily, and for the rabbi’s benefit, kissed it and looked about with an expression of idiotic piety.

“First, louse-heads,” began the rabbi when he had done distributing the books, “the Four Questions of the Passover. Read them again and again. But this time let them flow from your lips like a torrent. And woe to that plaster dunce who still cannot say them in Yiddish! Blows will he scoop like sand! And when you have done that, turn the leaves to the ‘Chad Godya’. Read it over. But remember, quiet as death— Well?” Shmaike had raised his hand as though he were in school. “What do you want?”

“Can’t we hear each other?”

“Mouldered brains! Do you still need to hear each other? Do then. But take care I don’t hear a goyish word out of you.” He went back to his chair and sat down. For a few seconds longer his fierce gaze raked the long bench, then his eyes dropped momentarily to the book before him. “I was telling you,” he addressed Mendel, “how Isaiah came to see God and what happened after—”

But as if his own words had unleashed theirs, a seething of whispers began to chafe the room.

“You hea’ me say it. You hea’ me! Shid on you. C’mon Solly, you hea’ me. Yuh did push! Mendy’s god a bendige yet on—”

“Said whom shall I send?” The rabbi’s words were baffling on thickening briers of sound. “Who will go for us?”

“Izzy Pissy! Cock-eye Mulligan! Mah nishtanah halilaw hazeh— Wanna play me Yonk?”

— Couldn’t ask him though (David’s eyes merely rested on the page). Get mad. Maybe later when I have to read. Where was it? Yea. Page sixty-eight. I’ll say, on page sixty-eight in that blue book that’s new, where Mendel read, you were saying that man saw God. And a light—

“How many? I god more den you. Shebchol haleylos onu ochlim-. I had a mockee on mine head too. Wuz you unner de awningh? Us all wuz. In de rain.”

“And tell this people, this fallen people—”

“Yea, and I’ll kickyuh innee ass! Odds! Halaylaw hazeh kulo mazo— So from t’rowin’ sand on my head I god a big mockee. I seen a blitz just w’en I commed in.”

— Where did he go to see Him? God? Didn’t say. Wonder if the rabbi knows? Wish I could ask. Page sixty-eight. Way, way, way, maybe. Where? Gee! Some place, me too … When I— When I — in the street far away … Hello, Mr. Highwood, goodbye Mr. Highwood. Heee! Funny!

“C’mere Joey, here’s room. De rebbeh wants — Fences is all slippery. Now wadda yuh cry?”

“Nor ever be healed, nor even clean.”

“A blitz, yuh dope! Hey Solly, he says— Shebchol haleylos onu ochlim— Yea, my fadder’ll beat chaw big brudder. Evens!”

— Some place Isaiah saw Him, just like that. I bet! He was sitting on a chair. So he’s got chairs, so he can sit. Gee! Sit Shit! Sh! Please God, I didn’t mean it! Please God, somebody else said it! Please—

“So hoddy you say blitz wise guy? Moishee loozed his bean shooduh! And den after de sand I pud wawduh on duh head, so— Lousy bestia! Miss Ryan tooked it!”

“How long? I asked. Lord, how long—”

— And why did the angel do it? Why did he want to burn Isaiah’s mouth with coal? He said, You’re clean. But coal makes smoke and ashes. So how clean? Couldn’t he just say, Your mouth is clean? Couldn’t he? Why wasn’t it clean, anyway? He didn’t wash it, I bet. So that …

“A lighten’, yuh dope. A blitz! Kent’cha tuck Englitch? Ha! Ha! Sheor yerokos halaylo hazeh — Dat’s two on dot! I wuz shootin chalk wid it. Somm bean shooduh! My fodder’ll give your fodder soch a kick—”

— With a zwank, he said it was. Zwank. Where did I see? Zwank some place. Mama? No. Like in blacksmith shop by the river. Pincers and horseshoe. Yes must be. With pincers, zwank means pincers. So why with pincers? Coal was hot. That’s why. But he was a angel. Is angels afraid? Afraid to get burned? Gee! Must have been hot, real hot. How I jumped when the rabbi pushed out with his fingers when he said coal. Nearly thought it was me. Wonder if Isaiah hollered when the coal touched him. Maybe angel-coal don’t burn live people. Wonder—

“Dere! Chinky shows! Id’s mine! How many fences didja go? I tore it f’om a tree in duh pock, mine bean-shooduh! T’ree fences. So a lighten den, wise guy!”

“And the whole land waste and empty.”

“T’ree is a lie, mine fodder says. Yea? Matbilim afilu pa’am echos halaylo hazeh — Always wear yuh hat when a lighten’ gives—”

— He said dirty words, I bet. Shit, pee, fuckenbestit — Stop! You’re sayin’ it yourself. It’s a sin again! That’s why he — Gee! I didn’t mean it. But your mouth don’t get dirty. I don’t feel no dirt. (He rolled his tongue about) Maybe inside. Way, way in, where you can’t taste it. What did Isaiah say that made his mouth dirty? Real dirty, so he’d know it was? Maybe—

“Shebchol haleylos onu ochlim—. De rain wedded my cockamamy! Ow! Leggo! Yuh can’t cover books wit’ newspaper. My teacher don’ let. An aftuh she took mine bean-shooduh, she pinched me by duh teet! Lousey bestia! Bein yoshvim uvein mesubim. So wad’s de nex’ woid? Mine hen’ball wend down duh sewuh! Now, I god six poinduhs!

— You couldn’t do it with a regular coal. You’d burn all up. Even hot tea if you drink — ooh! But where could you get angel-coal? Mr. Ice-man, give me a pail of angel-coal. Hee! Hee! In a cellar is coal. But other kind, black coal, not angel coal. Only God had angel-coal. Where is God’s cellar I wonder? How light it must be there. Wouldn’t be scared like I once was in Brownsville. Remember?

“C’mon chick! Hey Louie! Yuh last! Wed mine feed! Look! Me! Yea! Hea! Two!”

— Angel-coal. In God’s cellar is—

All the belated ones had straggled in. A hail of jabbering now rocked the cheder.

“And-not-a-tree—” As the rabbi stooped lower and lower, his voice shot up a steep ladder of menace. “Shall-be-upright in the land!” He straightened, scaling crescendo with a roar. “Noo!” His final shattering bellow mowed down the last shrill reeds of voices. “Now it’s my turn!” Smiling fiercely he rose, cat-o-nine in hand, and advanced toward the silent, cowering row. “Here!” the scourge whistled down, whacked against a thigh. “Here’s for you!”

“Wow!”

“And you!”

“Ouch! Waddid I — do?”

“And you for your squirming tongue!”

“Leggo! Ooh!”

“And you that your rump is on fire! Now sit still!”

“Umph! Ow!”

“And you for your grin! And you for your nickering, and you for your bickering. Catch! Catch! Hold! Dance!”

The straps flew, legs plunged. Shrill squibs of pain popped up and down the bench. No one escaped, not even David. Wearied at length, and snorting for breath, the rabbi stopped and glared at them. Suppressed curses, whimpers, sniffles soughed from one end of the bench to the other.