Henry Roth - Call It Sleep

“I’ll moider you — yuh rotten stinker!” Polly screamed after her. “I’ll break yuh head!” she rolled out of bed as well.

“Yea, I double dare you!” Quivering with spite, Esther bent fingers into claws.

“I’ll tell mama on you! I’ll tell ’er watchuh done!”

“I ain’ gonna go down witchoo.” Her sister spat. “Just fer dat, you go yuhself.”

“So don’t. I’ll tell him too!”

“I’ll kill yuh!”

“Yea! Yuh know w’ot Polly does?” Esther wheeled on him. “She pees in bed every night! Dat’s w’at she does! My fodder has to give her a pee-pot twelve a’clock every night—”

“I don’t!”

“Yuh do! Dere!”

“Now I’ll never take yuh down, yuh lousy fraid-cat. Never! Never!”

“So don’t!”

“An’ I hope de biggest moider boogey man tears yuh ass out.”

“Piss-in-bed!” Esther taunted stubbornly. “Piss in bed!”

“An he’ll comm, Booh!” Polly pawed the air, eyes bulging in mimic fright. “Booh! Like de Mask-man in de serial! Wooh!”

“Aaa, shoddop!” Esther flinched. “Mama’ll take me down.”

“Yea!” her sister gloated. “Stinkin’ fraid-cat! Who’ll stay in de staw?”

“You!”

“Yuh should live so!”

“So I’ll pee in de sink.” Esther threatened.

“Wid de dishes in id! G’wan, I dare yuh! An’ yuh know w’ot Mama’ll give yuh w’en I tell ’er.”

“So I’ll waid! Aaa! He’ll go down!” she shrilled in sudden triumph. “Mbaa!” her tongue flicked out. “Mbaa! Davy’ll go down wit’ me!”

“Yea? Waid’ll I tell Sophie Seigel an’ Yeddie Katz you took a boy down in de toilet and let ’im look. Waid’ll I tell!”

“Sticks and stones c’n break my bones, but woids can nevuh hoit me-e!” Esther sang malevolently. “I ain’gonna led ’im look. C’mon, Davy! Waid’ll I ged my shoes on.”

“Don’ go!” Polly turned on him fiercely. “Or I’ll give yuh!”

“An’ I’ll give you!” Esther viciously hooked feet into shoes. “Such a bust, yuh’ll go flyin’! C’mon, Davey!”

“Waddayuh wan’?” He looked from one to the other with a stunned, incredulous stare.

“I’ll give yuh kendy,” Esther wheedled.

“Yuh will not!” Polly interposed.

“Who’s askin’ you, Piss-in-bed?” She seized David’s arm. “C’mon, I’ll show yuh w’ea tuh take me.”

“W’ea yuh goin’?” He held back.

“Downstairs inna terlit, dope! Only number one. Srooo!” She sucked in her breath sharply. “Hurry op! I’ll give yuh anyt’ing inna store.”

“Don’tcha do it!” Polly exhorted him. “She won’t give yuh nott’n! I’ll give yuh!”

“I will so!” Esther was already dragging him after her.

“Leggo!” He resisted her tug. “I don’t want—” But she had said anything! A vision of bright-wheeled skates rose before his eyes. “Awri’.” He followed her.

“Shame! Shame!” Polly yapped at their heels. “Ev’ybody knows yuh name. He’s goin’ in yuh terlit!”

Cringing with embarrassment, he hurried across the threshold to Esther’s side.

“Shoddop! Piss-in-bed! Mind yuh own beeswax!” She slammed the door in her sister’s face. “Over dis way.”

A short flight of wooden steps led down into the muggy yard, and a little to the side of them, another flight of stone dropped into the cellar. At the sight of the nether gloom, his heart began a dull, labored pounding.

“Didntcha know our terlit was inna cella’?” she preceded him down.

“Yea, but I fuhgod.” He shrank back a moment at the cellar door.

“Stay close!” she warned.

He followed warily. The corrupt damp of sunless earth. Her loose shoes scuffed before him into dissolving dark. On either side of him glimmered the dull-grey, once-white-washed cellar bins, smelling of wet coal, rotting wood, varnish, burlap. Only her footsteps guided him now; her body had vanished. The spiny comb of fear serried his cheek and neck and shoulders.

— It’s all right! All right! Somebody’s with you. But when is she — Ow!

His groping hands ran into her.

“Wait a secon’, will yuh?” she whispered irritably.

They had come mid-way.

“Stay hea.” A door-knob rattled. He saw a door swing open — A tiny, sickly-grey window, matted with cobwebs, themselves befouled with stringy grime, cast a wan gleam on a filth-streaked flush bowl. In the darkness overhead, the gurgle and suck of a water-box. The dull, flat dank of excrement, stagnant water, decay. “You stay righd hea in de daw!” she said. “An’ don’ go ’way or I’ll moider you — Srooo!” Her sharp breath whistled. She fumbled with the broken seat.

“Can I stay outside?”

“No!” Her cry was almost desperate as she plumped down. “Stay in de daw. You c’n look—” The hiss and splash. “Ooh!” Prolonged, relieved. “You ain’ god a sister?”

“No.” He straddled the threshold.

“You scared in de cella’?”

“Yea.”

“Toin aroun’!”

“Don’ wanna!”

“You’re crazy. Boys ain’t supposed t’ be scared.”

“You tol’ me y’d give anyt’ing?”

“So waddayuh wan’?” In the vault-like silence the water roared as she flushed the bowl.

“Yuh god skates?”

“Skates?” She brushed hastily past him toward the yard-light, “C’mon. We ain’t god no skates.”

“Yuh ain’? Old ones?”

“We ain’ god no kind.” They climbed into the new clarity of the yard. “Wadduh t’ink dis is?” her voice grew bolder. “A two-winder kendy staw? An’ if I had ’em I wouldn’ give yuh. Skates cost money.”

“So yuh ain’ god?” Like a last tug at the clogged pulley of hope. “Even busted ones?”

“Naaa!” Derisively.

Despair sapped the spring of his eager tread. Her smudged ankles flickered past him up the stairs.

“Hey, Polly!” He heard her squeal as she burst into the kitchen, “Hey, Polly—!”

“Giddaddihea, stinker!” The other’s voice snapped.

“Yuh know wot he wants?” Esther pointed a mocking finger at him as he entered.

“W’a?”

“Skates! Eee! Hee! Hee! Skates he wants!”

“Skates!” Mirth infected Polly. “Waddaa boob! We ain’ god skates.”

“An’ now I don’ have to give ’im nott’n!” Esther exulted. “If he wants wot we ain’ got, so—”

“Aha!” Aunt Bertha’s red head pried into the doorway. “God be praised! Blessed is His holy name!” She cast her eyes up with exaggerated fervor. “You’re both up! And at the same time? Ai, yi, yi! How comes it?”

The other two grimaced sullenly.

“And now the kitchen, the filthy botch you left last night! Coarse rumps! Do I have to do everything? When will I get my shopping done?”

“Aaa! Don’ holler!” Esther’s tart reply.

“Cholera in your belly!” Aunt Bertha punned promptly. “Hurry up, I say! Coffee’s on the stove.” She glanced behind her. “Come out, David, honey! Come out of that mire.” She pulled her head back hurriedly.

“Aaa, kiss my axle,” Polly glowered. “You ain’ my modduh!” And snappishly to David. “G’wan, yuh lummox! Gid odda hea!”

Chagrined, routed, he hurried through the corridor, finding a little relief in escaping from the kitchen.

“Skates!” Their jeers followed him. “Dopey Benny!”

He came out into the store. Aunt Bertha, her bulky rear blocking the aisle, her breasts flattened against the counter was stooping over, handing a stick of licorice to a child on the other side.

“Oy!” She groaned, straightening up as she collected the penny. “Oy!” And to David. “Come here, my light. You don’t know what a help you’ve been to me by getting them out of bed. Have you ever laid eyes on such bedraggled, shameless dawdlers? They’re too lazy to stick a hand in cold water, they are. And I must sweat and smile.” She took him in her arms. “Would you like what I gave that little boy just now — ligvitch? Ha? It’s as black as a harness.”