Henry Roth - Call It Sleep

The tortured breast rebelled, sucked up air in a squealing gasp. He collapsed against the bin behind him, leaned there with whirling senses … Slowly the roaring shadows quieted. Cloudy air displaced the giddy dark like a fixed despair.

— Lost it … (Leaden-slow his thought) Lost it … Covered up all.… Cellar-floor dirty … Like the nickel then … Gone. Gone.…

A sound in the yard outside. Inertia’s thick buffer about the mind muffled it. Again. He listened. The hiss of shoes, stealthily on the stone outside the door approaching. He sat bolt upright, staring at the crack between door and jamb.

— Who? Can’t call!

Pricked ears sifted the depths of the shadowy corridor where Esther and Leo were— All was hushed.

— Hope they hear! Hope! Hope! Gee! Ow! Be still!

The steps drew nearer — Unblinking eyes glued against the bar of light, he stuffed the beads in his pocket, crowded back against the corner, dropped his jaw to breathe in silence. The careful steps drew nearer. For the briefest instant like a figure in a cramped panel, Polly, lips thrust out in scared curiosity, paused in the crack of light and vanished. Soft footfalls behind the door, she appeared again in the murky frame between him and the door-edge. He saw her advance into the cellar, lift herself on tip-toe and cock her head from side to side, listening—

Murmurs beyond. A muffled giggle.

— Aaa (He clenched his teeth against the inner fury) Why didn’t they keep still! Polly had heard them!

“No! No maw!” Louder, “Leggo!” The unseen door banged open.

“Aw, hey!”

“No! Lemme oud!” A scuffling. “Lemmeee — Unh!” As though someone had butted her, Esther’s cry ended in a terrified grunt. “Polly!”

“Eee!” her sister squealed. “You!”

For a moment all three seemed to have lost their tongues.

“Aw, it’s only yer sister, ain’ it?” Leo bolstered up a shaky voice with a clash of skates.

“Yuh wuz wit’ him in dere!” Polly’s voice was a mixture of gloating and disbelief.

“I wuzn’!” Esther’s shrill cry rose furiously. “I’ll give yuh in a minute!”

“I seen yuh! I seen yuh! I knew yuh wouldn’ comm donn by yuhself. Waid’ll I tell!”

“Hey, wait a secon’,” Leo hastily took control. “Wea’s Davy? He’ll tell yuh wot we wuz doin’? Hey Davy! We wuz playin’ a trick on him, see? He’s in dere! Betcha million!” A bin-door creaked. “Hey Davy!” A pause. “W’ea de hell—”

“Aaa, Davy!” Polly sneered venomously. “Yuh cowid! Don’t blame it on sommbody else, ’cause yuh can’t fool me! ”

“Who’s tryin’ t’ blame it on somebody else!” Leo was nettled. “He’s hea I tell yuh — someplace. Hey Davy!”

“He is!” Esther maintained stormily. “He wuz wit’ us!”

“Hey, Davy! C’m out wea’ver y’are! C’mon.” His voice rang through the cellar. “I’ll bust ye one! Come on out!”

Shrunken with guilt and terror, David crammed himself deeper into the corner.

“He musta run away, de liddle bastid— Hey Davy!” He bellowed. “Ooo, waid’ll I gitchoo!”

“Aaa, shod op!” Contemptuously from Polly. “Stop makin’ believe!”

“Waddayuh lookin’ at me faw?” Esther stormily.

“You know w’at!” Her sister answered significantly. “You know w’at.”

“W’at!”

“Snot! Yuh wuz playin’ bad in dat place wit’ him! Dat’s watchoo wuz doin’! Wit’ dat bum! Yuh t’ink I don’ know?”

“I wuz not!” Esther screamed.

“Yuh wuz!”

“Who’s a bum?” Leo’s voice bullying.

“Who else? You! You took her in dere, yuh rotten bum!”

“Don’ call me a bum!”

“I will so — yuh rotten bum!”

“I’ll slap yuh one, yuh stinkin’ sheeny!”

“Me! Wotta you? Ooo!” Her voice trailed off into horrified comprehension. “Oooh, w’en I tell — He’s a goy too! Yuh doity Crischin, ged oud f’om my cella’—faw I call my modder. Ged oud!”

“Yuh mudder’s ass! Call ’er, I dare ye! I’ll rap de two o’ yiz!”

“You leave her alone!” Esther turned on him fiercely. “Ged odda you! Go on! Ged oud!”

“Aw, shet up!” He was stung. “Ye wuz in dere yeself — w’ut’re ye takin’ her side fer?”

“Ooo! Hooo!” Esther burst into a loud betrayed wail. “Ged oud! Waaa!”

“Ged oud, yuh doity Crischin!” Polly’s screech swelled above her sister’s bawling. “Doity bum, ged oud!”

“Aw righ’—” mockingly. “Keep yer drawz on! G’wan fight it out yerself.” His voice retreated.

“Doity bum!”

“Sswt!” He whistled jeeringly from a distance. “Tell ’er wut I wuz doin’, kid. Yuh jew hewhs! We wuz hidin’ de balonee! Yaaa! Sheenies! Brrt!” He trumpeted. “Sheenies!” Skates clashed. The door slammed.

“Oooh! Hooo!” Esther’s sobbing filled the cellar.

“Yuh oughta cry, yuh doity t’ing!” Polly lashed at her. “Good fuh yuh! Comm down wit’ dat goyish bum in de cella’!”

“Y-y’ ain’ gonna t-tell.” Esther whined brokenly. “He made me! I didn’ wanna go!”

“Made yuh!” scornfully. “Mama said yuh wuz in de back o’ de staw. Yuh didn’t have t’ comm down — if yuh didn’ wanna! I’m gonna tell!”

“No!” Her sister lifted a frantic wail. “Didn’ I stop him f’om hittin’ yuh? Didn’ I? Poppa’ll kill me if yuh tell ’im! You know!”

“So led ’im!” Stonily. “Den yuh won’ go wit’ goys no maw. Yuh always callin’ me piss-in-bed, anyway! So dere!”

“I’ll never call yuh again, Polly! Never! Never in all my life!”

“Yea, pooh! I b’lieve yuh!”

“I won’t! I won’t!”

“Lemme go!”

“Don’t tell! Ow!”

“Lemme go!”

David, petrified in his niche of darkness saw her drag the screaming Esther after her toward the cellar door.

“Don’t tell! Don’t tell!”

“Lemme go! Yuh hea?” Polly seized the door-knob for support, wrenched her other hand free. “I am gonna—”

“Eee!” Esther screamed. “Look! Look!”

“Wa?” In spite of herself.

“It’s him! Him! Davy!”

He had scrambled to his feet, cowering—

“He made me! He brung him!”

Cornered, he tensed for an opening.

“You!” Esther screamed. “Now I’m gonna give yuh — rotten liddle bestitt! It’s your fault!” And suddenly she struck out with both hands, caught him flush on the cheeks, clawed.

With a gasp of pain, he ducked under her arms, butted past her. She pursued, squalling with rage, collared him again, pounded his back and head. As if in a nightmare, he struggled, silently in the dark to tear himself free.

“Mama!” Polly’s scream at the other end. “Mama!”

“Polly!” Esther’s hold loosened. “Polly! Wait, Polly!” She flew after her sister. “Wait! Don’t tell! Don’t tell! Polly! Polly!”

Her frenzied cry ringing in his ears, he flung himself at the street door, raced up the cellar stairs. Without caring whether any one marked him or not, he leaped out into the street and fled in horror toward Avenue D.

XV

HE HAD run and run, and now his own breath stabbed his lungs like a knife and his legs grew so heavy, they seemed to lift the sidewalk with them. Tottering with exhaustion, he dropped into a panicky, stumbling walk, clawed at his stockings, gasping so hoarsely, people turned to stare. Only one thought in the screaming chaos of terror and revulsion his mind had fallen into remained unbroken: To reach the cheder — to lose himself among the rest.

— Like I never came! Like I never came!

Now he ran, now he walked, now he ran again. And always the single goal before him — the cheder yard, the carefree din of the cheder. And always the single burden: