Russell Hoban - The Lion of Boaz-Jachin and Jachin-Boaz

‘Today isn’t Sunday,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘Yes it is,’ said the tightly furled man. ‘It’s always Sunday. That’s why business was invented — to give people offices to hide in five days a week. Give us a seven-day week, I say. It’s getting worse all the time. Inhuman bastards. Where’d your lion go?’

‘Away,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘He won’t come back. He only shows up on weekdays, and it’s always Sunday here.’ He smiled cruelly, and the tightly furled man cried harder and burrowed into the blankets and covered up his head.

There would be no more lion for him here, Jachin-Boaz knew. The great cresting wave of rage had not been honestly earned, had been artificially forced up in him by the sly teasing of those who had no lion of their own. He would have to be good, be quiet, muffle his terror and wait for his rage until he was out of here. He would have to hide the clanging in him when it came again, would have to wear his terror like quiet grey prison garb, let everything flow through him indifferently.

From that time on his walk became like that of many other patients. Even when wearing shoes he seemed to go barefoot, ungirded, disarmed. The smell of cooking sang defeat. He nodded, humbled.

‘How’s it ticking?’ said the doctor when his feet brought him around to Jachin-Boaz again.

‘Very well, thank you,’ said Jachin-Boaz. From now on he would remember to answer as if the doctor were speaking real words.

‘Tockly,’ said the doctor. ‘I told you ticks would tock themselves out, didn’t I?’

‘Indeed you did,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘And you were right.’

‘Someticks all it tocks is a little tick,’ said the doctor. ‘My tockness, ticks get to be too tock for all of us someticks.’

‘They do,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘Tick,’ said the doctor. ‘That’s when a good tock and some tick and tocket will tick tockers, and then a fellow can tick himtock toticker.’

‘Right,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘Peace and quiet will work wonders, and I am pulling myself together.’

‘That’s the ticket,’ said the doctor. ‘We’ll tick you out of tock in no tick.’

‘The sooner the better,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘What’s all this about lions then?’ said the doctor with every word clear and distinct.

‘Who said anything about lions?’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘It’s difficult to have any secrets in a place like this,’ said the doctor. ‘Word gets around pretty quickly.’

‘I may very well have said something about a lion at one time or another,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘But if I did I was speaking metaphorically. It’s very easy to be misunderstood, you know. Especially in a place like this.’

‘Quite,’ said the doctor. ‘Nothing easier. But what about the bites and the claw-marks?’

‘Well,’ said Jachin-Boaz, ‘everyone’s entitled to his own sex life, I think. Some people fancy black rubber clothes. Consenting adults and all that is how I feel about it.’

‘Quite,’ said the doctor. ‘The thing is to keep it in the privacy of one’s own home, you know. I’m as modern as anyone else, but it’s got to be kept off the streets.’

‘You’re right of course,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘Things get out of hand sometimes.’

‘But the claw-marks and the bites,’ said the doctor. ‘They certainly weren’t made by any human partner.’

‘Animal skins’, said Jachin-Boaz, ‘can be got with claws and teeth, you know. It’s been disposed of since. Really, I’m terribly ashamed of the whole thing. I just want to get back to my job and settle down to a normal life again.’

‘Good,’ said the doctor. ‘That’s the way to talk. It won’t be long now.’

Gretel came to visit Jachin-Boaz. He had scarcely thought of her since being admitted to the hospital and would have preferred not to have to think about her just now. He was amazed at how young and pretty she was. My woman, he thought. How did it happen? It’s dangerous to have balls but there’s something nice about it.

‘They’re letting me out tomorrow,’ she said.

‘What did you tell them?’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘I said that it was all sex. You know how it is with us hot-blooded foreigners. I said that I thought you were running around with other women and that my jealousy had driven me wild and that somehow I found myself in the street with a knife in my hand.’

‘And they’re willing to let you go?’

‘Well, I said that I mightn’t have been so upset ordinarily, but being pregnant as I was it was all too much for me. And the doctor said oh well, of course, poor dear and unwed mother and all that. And the doctor said what about the father, and I said not to worry, that everything was all right but we couldn’t get married until you had a divorce. And he patted my hand and wished me all the best and said he hoped I’d not be going about with knives any more and I said certainly not and they’re letting me out tomorrow.’

‘That was a very good touch, the pregnancy,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘Yes,’ said Gretel. ‘It was. I am.’

‘Am what?’

‘Pregnant.’

‘Pregnant,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘That’s right. I was two weeks overdue and had a test just before coming to the loony bin. I never found an opportune moment to tell you about it the day they brought us in. Are you happy about it?’

‘Good God,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘Another son.’

‘It could also be a girl.’

‘I doubt it. With me it’ll always be fathers and sons, I think.’

‘What I said about getting married, you know, was just for the doctor. I don’t care about that.’

‘It’s something we have to think about, I guess,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘We don’t have to think about it right now, anyhow,’ said Gretel. ‘How do you feel about being a father again?’

‘I’m happy about the baby,’ said Jachin-Boaz. ‘I don’t know how I feel about being a father again. I don’t know how I feel about being a father even once, let alone twice.’

‘It’ll be all right, whatever happens,’ said Gretel. ‘A mighty fortress is our something.’

‘What do you mean, whatever happens?’

‘If you leave me. Or if the lion …’

‘Do you think I’ll leave you?’

‘I never know. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll love you anyhow, and so will the baby. I’ll tell him about his father, and he’ll love you too.’

‘Do you think the lion will kill me?’

‘Do you want the lion to kill you?’

Jachin-Boaz looked at Gretel without answering.

‘What is there to say about a lion?’ she said. ‘There are no lions any more, but my man has a lion. The father of my child has a lion.’

Jachin-Boaz nodded his head.

‘Maybe,’ said Gretel, ‘if you go out to meet it again …’

‘I’ll tell you,’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘All right,’ said Gretel. ‘When I get home I’ll do some house-cleaning so the flat can welcome you properly. You’ll be out soon, I should think. I shan’t come to visit unless you ring me up. You have a lot to think about.’

‘I do,’ said Jachin-Boaz. He kissed her. My woman, he thought. The mother of my child. I’m an unwed father, and my heart may stop beating at any moment.

The owner of the bookshop came to visit Jachin-Boaz again. ‘You’re getting to be quite popular,’ he said, and showed him an advertisement in the book trade weekly:

Jachin-Boaz, please contact Boaz-Jachin.

A telephone number and box number were given. Jachin-Boaz wrote them down.

‘Jachin-Boaz, please contact yourself turned around,’ said the bookshop owner. ‘An odd message.’

‘What do you mean, myself turned around?’ said Jachin-Boaz.

‘The names,’ said the bookshop owner. ‘Jachin-Boaz, Boaz-Jachin.’