carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第30章
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'All right;' Biff said。 'He came in that night and started
drinking; and when he was drunk he shot off his mouth about
you。 He said he would come home about once a month and
beat hell out of you and you would take it。 But then afterward
you would step outside in the hall and laugh aloud a few times
so that the neighbors in the other rooms would think you both
had just been playing around110
and it had all been a joke。 That's what happened; so just forget
about it'
Lucile sat up straight and there was a red spot on each of her
cheeks。 'You see; Bartholomew; that's why I got to be like I
have blinders on all the time so as not to think backward or
sideways。 All I can let my mind stay on is going to work every
day and fixing three meals here at home and Baby's career。'
'Yes。'
'I hope you'll do that too; and not start thinking backward。'
Biff leaned his head down on his chest and closed his eyes。
During the whole long day he had not been able to think of
Alice。 When he tried to remember her face there was a queer
blankness in him。 The only thing about her that was clear in
his mind was her feet—stumpy; very soft and white with puffy
toes。 The bottoms were pink and near the left heel there was a
tiny brown mole。 The night they were married he had taken
off her shoes and stockings and kissed her feet。 And; come to
think of it; that was worth considerable; because the Japanese
believe that the choicest part of a woman
Biff stirred and glanced at his watch。 In a little while they
would leave for the church where the funeral would be held。
In his mind he went through the motions of the ceremony。 The
church—riding; dirge…paced behind the hearse with Lucile and
Baby—the group of people stand…' ing with bowed heads in
the September sunshine。 Sun on 。 the white tombstones; on
the fading flowers and the can… 1 vas tent covering the newly
dug grave。 Then home again ' —and what?
'No matter how much you quarrel there's something about
your own blood sister;' Lucile said。
Biff raised his head。 'Why don't you marry again? Some nice
young man who's never had a wife before; who would take
care of you and Baby? If you'd just forget about Leroy you
would make a good man a fine wife。'
Lucile was slow to answer。 Then finally she said: *You know
how we always been—we nearly all the time understand each
other pretty well without any kind of throbs either way。 Well;
that's the closest I ever want to be to any man again。'
111
1 feel the same way;' Biff said。
Half an hour later there was a knock on the door。 The car for
the funeral was parked before the house。 Biff and Lucile got
up slowly。 The three of them; with Baby in her white silk
dress a little ahead; walked in solemn quietness outside。
Biff kept the restaurant closed during the next day。 Then in
the early evening he removed the faded wreath of lilies from
the front door and opened the place for business again。 Old
customers came in with sad faces and talked with him a few
minutes by the cash register before giving their orders。 The
usual crowd was present—Singer; Blount; various men who
worked in stores along the block and in the mills down on the
river。 After supper Mick Kelly showed up with her little
brother and put a nickel into the slot machine。 When she lost
the first coin she banged on the machine with her fists and
kept opening the receiver to be sure that nothing had come
down。 Then she put in another nickel and almost won the
jackpot。 Coins came clattering out and rolled along the floor。
The kid and her little brother both kept looking around pretty
sharp as they picked them up; so that no customer would put
his foot on one before they could get to it The mute was at the
table in the middle of the room with his dinner before him。
Across from him Jake Blount sat drinking beer; dressed in his
Sunday clothes; and talking。 Everything was the same as it had
always been before。 After a while the air became gray with
cigarette smoke and the noise increased。 Biff was alert; and no
sound or movement escaped him。
'I go around;' Blount said。 He leaned earnestly across the table
and kept his eyes on the mute's face。 'I go all around and try to
tell them。 And they laugh。 I can't make them understand
anything。 No matter what I say I can't seem to make them see;
the truth。'
Singer nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin。 His
dinner had got cold because he couldn't look down to eat; but
he was so polite that he let Blount go on talking。 The words of
the two children at the slot machine were high and clear
against the coarser voices of the men。 Mick was putting her
nickels back into the slot。 Often she looked around at the
middle table; but the mute had his back turned to her and did
not see。112
'Mister Singer's got fried chicken for his supper and he hasn't
eaten one piece yet;' the little boy said。
Mick pulled down the lever of the machine very slowly。 'Mind
your own business。'
'You're always going up to his room or some place where you
know he'll be。'
'I told you to hush; Bubber Kelly。'
'You do。'
Mick shook him until his teeth rattled and turned him around
toward the door。 'You go on home to bed。 I already told you I
get a bellyful of you and Ralph in the daytime; and I don't
want you hanging around me at night when I'm supposed to be
free。'
Bubber held out bis grimy little hand。 Well; give me a nickel;
then。' When he had put the money in his shirt pocket he left
for home。
Biff straightened his coat and smoothed back his hair。 His tie
was solid black; and on the sleeve of his gray coat there was
the mourning band that he had sewn there。 He wanted to go up
to the slot machine and talk with Mick; but something would
not let him。 He sucked in his breath sharply and drank a glass
of water。 A dance orchestra came in on the radio; but he did
not want to listen。 All the tunes in the last ten years were so
alike he couldn't tell one from the other。 Since 1928 he had
not enjoyed music。 Yet when he was young he used to play
the mandolin; and he knew the words and the melody of every
current song。
He laid his finger on the side of his nose and cocked his head
to one side。 Mick had grown so much in the past year that
soon she would be taller than he was。 She was dressed in the
red sweater and blue pleated skirt she had worn every day
since school started。 Now the pleats had come out and the hem
dragged loose around her sharp; jutting knees。 She was at the
age when she looked as much like an overgrown boy as a girl。
And on that subject why was it that the smartest people mostly
missed that point? By nature all people are of both sexes。 So
that marriage and the bed is not all by any means。 The proof?
Real youth and old age。 Because often old men's voices grow
high and reedy and they take on a mincing walk。 And old
women sometimes grow fat and their voices get rough and
deep and they grow dark little mustaches。 And he even proved
113 it himself—the part of him that sometimes almost wished
he was a mother and that Mick and Baby were his kids。
Abruptly Biff turned from the cash register。
The newspapers were in a mess。 For two weeks he hadn't filed
a single one。 He lifted a stack of them from under the counter。
With a practiced eye he glanced from the masthead to the
bottom of the sheet。 Tomorrow he would look over the stacks
of them in the back room and see about changing the system
of files。 Build shelves and use those solid boxes canned goods
were shipped in for drawers。 Chronologically from October
27;1918; on up to the present date。 With folders and top
markings outlining historical events。 Three sets of outlines—
one international beginning with the Armistice and leading
through the Munich aftermath; the second national; the third
all the local dope from the time Mayor Lester shot his wife at
the country club up to the Hudson Mill fire。 Everything for the
past twenty years docketed and outlined and complete。 Biff
beamed quietly behind his hand as he rubbed his jaw。 And yet
Alice had wanted him to haul