East of Eden

by John Steinbeck

  "All right. Calm yourself. How is Adam?"

  "Missy Adam clazy. Cly--laugh--make vomit."

  "Sure," said Samuel. "These new fathers. I was one once. Tom, throw a saddle on for me, will you?"

  Joe said, "What is it?"

  "Why, Mrs. Trask is about to have her baby. I told Adam I'd stand by."

  "You?" Joe asked.

  Samuel leveled his eyes on his youngest son. "I brought both of you into the world," he said. "And you've given no evidence you think I did a bad service to the world. Tom, you get all the tools gathered up. And go back to the ranch and sharpen the metal. Bring back the box of powder that's on the shelf in the tool shed, and go easy with it as you love your arms and legs. Joe, I want you to stay here and look after things."

  Joe said plaintively, "But what will I do here alone?"

  Samuel was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Joe, do you love me?"

  "Why, sure."

  "If you heard I'd committed some great crime would you turn me over to the police?"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Would you?"

  "No."

  "All right then. In my basket, under my clothes, you'll find two books--new, so be gentle with them. It's two volumes by a man the world is going to hear from. You can start reading if you want and it will raise up your lid a little. It's called The Principles of Psychology and it's by an Eastern man named William James. No relative to the train robber. And, Joe, if you ever let on about the books I'll run you off the ranch. If your mother ever found out I spent the money on them she'd run me off the ranch."

  Tom led a saddled horse to him. "Can I read it next?"

  "Yes," said Samuel, and he slipped his leg lightly over the saddle. "Come on, Lee."

  The Chinese wanted to break into a gallop but Samuel restrained him. "Take it easy, Lee. Birthing takes longer than you think, mostly."

  For a time they rode in silence, and then Lee said, "I'm sorry you bought those books. I have the condensed form, in one volume, the textbook. You could have borrowed it."

  "Have you now? Do you have many books?"

  "Not many here--thirty or forty. But you're welcome to any of them you haven't read."

  "Thank you, Lee. And you may be sure I'll look the first moment I can. You know, you could talk to my boys. Joe's a little flighty but Tom's all right and it would do him good."

  "It's a hard bridge to cross, Mr. Hamilton. Makes me timid to talk to a new person, but I'll try if you say so."

  They walked the horses rapidly toward the little draw of the Trask place. Samuel said, "Tell me, how is it with the mother?"

  "I'd rather you saw for yourself and thought for yourself," Lee said. "You know when a man lives alone as much as I do, his mind can go off on an irrational tangent just because his social world is out of kilter."

  "Yes, I know. But I'm not lonely and I'm on a tangent too. But maybe not the same one."

  "You don't think I imagine it then?"

  "I don't know what it is, but I'll tell you for your reassurance that I've a sense of strangeness."

  "I guess that's all it is with me too," said Lee. He smiled. "I'll tell you how far it got with me though. Since I've come here I find myself thinking of Chinese fairy tales my father told me. We Chinese have a well-developed demonology."

  "You think she is a demon?"

  "Of course not," said Lee. "I hope I'm a little beyond such silliness. I don't know what it is. You know, Mr. Hamilton, a servant develops an ability to taste the wind and judge the climate of the house he works in. And there's a strangeness here. Maybe that's what makes me remember my father's demons."

  "Did your father believe in them?"

  "Oh, no. He thought I should know the background. You Occidentals perpetuate a good many myths too."

  Samuel said, "Tell me what happened to set you off. This morning, I mean."

  "If you weren't coming I would try," said Lee. "But I would rather not. You can see for yourself. I may be crazy. Of course Mr. Adam is strung so tight he may snap like a banjo string."

  "Give me a little hint. It might save time. What did she do?"

  "Nothing. That's just it. Mr. Hamilton, I've been at births before, a good many of them, but this is something new to me."

  "How?"

  "It's--well--I'll tell you the one thing I can think of. This is much more like a bitter, deadly combat than a birth."

  As they rode into the draw and under the oak trees Samuel said, "I hope you haven't got me in a state, Lee. It's a strange day, and I don't know why."

  "No wind," said Lee. "It's the first day in a month when there hasn't been wind in the afternoon."

  "That's so. You know I've been so close to the details I've paid no attention to the clothing of the day. First we find a buried star and now we go to dig up a mint-new human." He looked up through the oak branches at the yellow-lit hills. "What a beautiful day to be born in!" he said. "If signs have their fingers on a life, it's a sweet life coming. And, Lee, if Adam plays true, he'll be in the way. Stay close, will you? In case I need something. Look, the men, the carpenters, are sitting under that tree."

  "Mr. Adam stopped the work. He thought the hammering might disturb his wife."

  Samuel said, "You stay close. That sounds like Adam playing true. He doesn't know his wife probably couldn't hear God Himself beating a tattoo on the sky."

  The workmen sitting under the tree waved to him. "How do, Mr. Hamilton. How's your family?"

  "Fine, fine. Say, isn't that Rabbit Holman? Where've you been, Rabbit?"

  "Went prospecting, Mr. Hamilton."

  "Find anything, Rabbit?"

  "Hell, Mr. Hamilton, I couldn't even find the mule I went out with."

  They rode on toward the house. Lee said quickly, "If you ever get a minute, I'd like to show you something."

  "What is it, Lee?"

  "Well, I've been trying to translate some old Chinese poetry into English. I'm not sure it can be done. Will you take a look?"

  "I'd like to, Lee. Why, that would be a treat for me."

  3

  Bordoni's white frame house was very quiet, almost broodingly quiet, and the shades were pulled down. Samuel dismounted at the stoop, untied his bulging saddlebags, and gave his horse to Lee. He knocked and got no answer and went in. It was dusky in the living room after the outside light. He looked in the kitchen, scrubbed to the wood grain by Lee. A gray stoneware pilon coffeepot grunted on the back of the stove. Samuel tapped lightly on the bedroom door and went in.

  It was almost pitch-black inside, for not only were the shades down but blankets were tacked over the windows. Cathy was lying in the big four-poster bed, and Adam sat beside her, his face buried in the coverlet. He raised his head and looked blindly out.

  Samuel said pleasantly, "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

  Adam's voice was hoarse. "She doesn't want the light. It hurts her eyes."

  Samuel walked into the room and authority grew in him with each step. "There will have to be lieht," he said. "She can close her eyes. I'll tie a black cloth over them if she wants." He moved to the window and grasped the blanket to pull it down, but Adam was upon him before he could yank.

  "Leave it. The light hurts her," he said fiercely.

  Samuel turned on him. "Now, Adam, I know what you feel. I promised you I'd take care of things, and I will. I only hope one of those things isn't you." He pulled the blanket down and rolled up the shade to let the golden afternoon light in.

  Cathy made a little mewing sound from the bed, and Adam went to her. "Close your eyes, dear. I'll put a cloth over your eyes."

  Samuel dropped his saddlebags in a chair and stood beside the bed. "Adam," he said firmly, "I'm going to ask you to go out of the room and to stay out."

  "No, I can't. Why?"

  "Because I don't want you in the way. It's considered a sweet practice for you to get drunk."

  "I couldn't."

  Samuel said, "Anger's a slow thing in me and disgust is
slower, but I can taste the beginnings of both of them. You'll get out of the room and give me no trouble or I'll go away and you'll have a basket of trouble."

  Adam went finally, and from the doorway Samuel called, "And I don't want you bursting in if you hear anything. You wait for me to come out." He closed the door, noticed there was a key in the lock, and turned it. "He's an upset, vehement man," he said. "He loves you."

  He had not looked at her closely until now. And he saw true hatred in her eyes, unforgiving, murderous hatred.

  "It'll be over before long, dearie. Now tell me, has the water broke?"

  Her hostile eyes glared at him and her lips raised snarling from her little teeth. She did not answer him.

  He stared at her. "I did not come by choice except as a friend," he said. "It's not a pleasure to me, young woman. I don't know your trouble and minute by minute I don't care. Maybe I can save you some pain--who knows? I'm going to ask you one more question. If you don't answer, if you put that snarling look on me, I'm going out and leave you to welter."

  The words struck into her understanding like lead shot dropping in water. She made a great effort. And it gave him a shivering to see her face change, the steel leave her eyes, the lips thicken from line to bow, and the corners turn up. He noticed a movement of her hands, the fists unclench and the fingers turn pinkly upward. Her face became young and innocent and bravely hurt. It was like one magic-lantern slide taking the place of another.

  She said softly, "The water broke at dawn."

  "That's better. Have you had hard labor?"

  "Yes."

  "How far apart?"

  "I don't know."

  "Well, I've been in this room fifteen minutes."

  "I've had two little ones--no big ones since you came."

  "Fine. Now where's your linen?"

  "In that hamper over there."

  "You'll be all right, dearie," he said gently.

  He opened his saddlebags and took out a thick rope covered with blue velvet and looped at either end. On the velvet hundreds of little pink flowers were embroidered. "Liza sent you her pulling rope to use," he said. "She made it when our first-born was preparing. What with our children and friends', this rope has pulled a great number of people into the world." He slipped one of the loops over each of the footposts of the bed.

  Suddenly her eyes glazed and her back arched like a spring and the blood started to her cheeks. He waited for her cry or scream and looked apprehensively at the closed door. But there was no scream--only a series of grunting squeals. After a few seconds her body relaxed and the hatefulness was back in her face.

  The labor struck again. "There's a dear," he said soothingly. "Was it one or two? I don't know. The more you see, the more you learn no two are alike. I'd better get my hands washed."

  Her head threshed from side to side. "Good, good, my darling," he said. "I think it won't be long till your baby's here." He put his hand on her forehead where her scar showed dark and angry. "How did you get the hurt on your head?" he asked.

  Her head jerked up and her sharp teeth fastened on his hand across the back and up into the palm near the little finger. He cried out in pain and tried to pull his hand away, but her jaw was set and her head twisted and turned, mangling his hand the way a terrier worries a sack. A shrill snarling came from her set teeth. He slapped her on the cheek and it had no effect. Automatically he did what he would have done to stop a dog fight. His left hand went to her throat and he cut off her wind. She struggled and tore at his hand before her jaws unclenched and he pulled his hand free. The flesh was torn and bleeding. He stepped back from the bed and looked at the damage her teeth had done. He looked at her with fear. And when he looked, her face was calm again and young and innocent.

  "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry."

  Samuel shuddered.

  "It was the pain," she said.

  Samuel laughed shortly. "I'll have to muzzle you, I guess," he said. "A collie bitch did the same to me once." He saw the hatred look out of her eyes for a second and then retreat.

  Samuel said, "Have you got anything to put on it? Humans are more poisonous than snakes."

  "I don't know."

  "Well, have you got any whisky? I'll pour some whisky on it."

  "In the second drawer."

  He splashed whisky on his bleeding hand and kneaded the flesh against the alcohol sting. A strong quaking was in his stomach and a sickness rose up against his eyes. He took a swallow of whisky to steady himself. He dreaded to look back at the bed. "My hand won't be much good for a while," he said.

  Samuel told Adam afterward, "She must be made of whalebone. The birth happened before I was ready. Popped like a seed. I'd not the water ready to wash him. Why, she didn't even touch the pulling rope to bear down. Pure whalebone, she is." He tore at the door, called Lee and demanded warm water. Adam came charging into the room. "A boy!" Samuel cried. "You've got a boy! Easy," he said, for Adam had seen the mess in the bed and a green was rising in his face.

  Samuel said, "Send Lee in here. And you, Adam, if you still have the authority to tell your hands and feet what to do, get to the kitchen and make me some coffee. And see the lamps are filled and the chimneys clean."

  Adam turned like a zombie and left the room. In a moment Lee looked in. Samuel pointed to the bundle in a laundry basket. "Sponge him off in warm water, Lee. Don't let a draft get on him. Lord! I wish Liza were here. I can't do everything at once."

  He turned back to the bed. "Now, dearie, I'll get you cleaned up."

  Cathy was bowed again, snarling in her pain. "It'll be over in a little," he said. "Takes a little time for the residue. And you're so quick. Why, you didn't even have to pull on Liza's rope." He saw something, stared, and went quickly to work. "Lord God in Heaven, it's another one!"

  He worked fast, and as with the first the birth was incredibly quick. And again Samuel tied the cord. Lee took the second baby, washed it, wrapped it, and put it in the basket.

  Samuel cleaned the mother and shifted her gently while he changed the linen on the bed. He found in himself a reluctance to look in her face. He worked as quickly as he could, for his bitten hand was stiffening. He drew a clean white sheet up to her chin and raised her to slip a fresh pillow under her head. At last he had to look at her.

  Her golden hair was wet with perspiration but her face had changed. It was stony, expressionless. At her throat the pulse fluttered visibly.

  "You have two sons," Samuel said. "Two fine sons. They aren't alike. Each one born separate in his own sack."

  She inspected him coldly and without interest.

  Samuel said, "I'll show your boys to you."

  "No," she said without emphasis.

  "Now, dearie, don't you want to see your sons?"

  "No. I don't want them."

  "Oh, you'll change. You're tired now, but you'll change. And I'll tell you now--this birth was quicker and easier than I've seen ever in my life."

  The eyes moved from his face. "I don't want them. I want you to cover the windows and take the light away."

  "It's weariness. In a few days you'll feel so different you won't remember."

  "I'll remember. Go away. Take them out of the room. Send Adam in."

  Samuel was caught by her tone. There was no sickness, no weariness, no softness. His words came out without his will. "I don't like you," he said and wished he could gather the words back into his throat and into his mind. But his words had no effect on Cathy.

  "Send Adam in," she said.

  In the little living room Adam looked vaguely at his sons and went quickly into the bedroom and shut the door. In a moment came the sound of tapping. Adam was nailing the blankets over the windows again.

  Lee brought coffee to Samuel. "That's a bad-looking hand you have there," he said.

  "I know. I'm afraid it's going to give me trouble."

  "Why did she do it?"

  "I don't know. She's a strange thing."

  Lee said, "Mr. Ha
milton, let me take care of that. You could lose an arm."

  The life went out of Samuel. "Do what you want, Lee. A frightened sorrow has closed down over my heart. I wish I were a child so I could cry. I'm too old to be afraid like this. And I've not felt such despair since a bird died in my hand by a flowing water long ago."

  Lee left the room and shortly returned, carrying a small ebony box carved with twisting dragons. He sat by Samuel and from his box took a wedge-shaped Chinese razor. "It will hurt," he said softly.

  "I'll try to bear it, Lee."

  The Chinese bit his lips, feeling the inflicted pain in himself while he cut deeply into the hand, opened the flesh around the toothmarks front and back, and trimmed the ragged flesh away until good red blood flowed from every wound. He shook a bottle of yellow emulsion labeled Hall's Cream Salve and poured it into the deep cuts. He saturated a handkerchief with the salve and wrapped the hand. Samuel winced and gripped the chair arm with his good hand.

  "It's mostly carbolic acid," Lee said. "You can smell it."

  "Thank you, Lee. I'm being a baby to knot up like this."

  "I don't think I could have been so quiet," said Lee. "I'll get you another cup of coffee."

  He came back with two cups and sat down by Samuel. "I think I'll go away," he said. "I never went willingly to a slaughter house."

  Samuel stiffened. "What do you mean?"

  "I don't know. The words came out."

  Samuel shivered. "Lee, men are fools. I guess I hadn't thought about it, but Chinese men are fools too."

  "What made you doubt it?"

  "Oh, maybe because we think of strangers as stronger and better than we are."

  "What do you want to say?"

  Samuel said, "Maybe the foolishness is necessary, the dragon fighting, the boasting, the pitiful courage to be constantly knocking a chip off God's shoulder, and the childish cowardice that makes a ghost of a dead tree beside a darkening road. Maybe that's good and necessary, but--"

  "What do you want to say?" Lee repeated patiently.

  "I thought some wind had blown up the embers in my foolish mind," Samuel said. "And now I hear in your voice that you have it too. I feel wings over this house. I feel a dreadfulness coming."

  "I feel it too."

  "I know you do, and that makes me take less than my usual comfort in my foolishness. This birth was too quick, too easy--like a cat having kittens. And I fear for these kittens. I have dreadful thoughts gnawing to get into my brain."