I lingered behind on the corner, watching him go. I had no further interest in where he was going. I lit a cigarette and began to think.
When I had first moved down here, it had seemed like another world. And it was. It was a different world from any I had ever known. Down here there was only one rule: you either fought or went hungry. And there were no holds barred.
The kids knew that even better than the adults. They were brought up to scrounge for themselves as early as they could. They were tough, bitter, and cynical beyond anything I had ever imagined. There was only one thing that kept me from being killed. I could fight better than they could and in many ways think faster.
It had taken a little time, though. At first they couldn’t figure me. After the fight I had the day Rexie was run over they had shown a certain respect for me. It wasn’t until I had taken to hanging out in the candy store on the corner that I began to know them.
From that point on, it became my show. The boy I had beaten up was the leader of the gang. Now they shifted around without purpose. Spit and Solly had tried to take over, but they couldn’t command respect from the others. The only language they could understand was physical superiority.
Then one day Spit came over to me while I was having an egg cream. Covering me with a fine spray of saliva, he invited me to join the gang. I listened to him cautiously, but after a while I came in with them. I was too lonely down here; I had to identify myself with somebody. It might as well be with the Stanton Street Boys.
But the main concern remained dough. Lack of money was the miasma that hung over the lower East Side like a plague. You could see it everywhere you turned, in the dirty streets, in the placarded store windows, in the ill-kept tenements. You could hear it everywhere, in the crying hawk of the street-pedlars on Rivington, in the careful haggling over pennies in the shops.
If you had a buck in your pocket you were a king; if you didn’t, you looked for someone who did and would pay your freight. But kings did not live on the East Side any more unless they were the kind who could drag enough pennies from the general poverty to make life comfortable for themselves.
There were plenty of those—bookies, shylocks, and petty criminals. They were the smart ones, the heroes. They were the envied, the strong who managed to survive. They were our examples, our men of distinction.
They were the people we wanted to be. Not like our fathers, who had fallen by the wayside because of an inability to cope with the times. Our fathers were the people of the lower East Side. And there were enough of them as it was. We weren’t going to be like them if we could help it. We were smarter than they were. We were going to be kings. And when I was king I would buy back my house in Brooklyn.
I strolled back toward my house. Spit had asked me what we were going to do next. I hadn’t known then. All I knew was that the five-and-dime job wasn’t worth the effort. But I knew now. I could knock over two birds with this caper. I decided to drop in at the candy store before I went upstairs to talk it over with Spit and Solly.
I stirred restlessly in the bed. I was too excited to fall asleep. A horn honked loudly in the street outside my window. I got out of bed silently and sat down near the window. I lit a cigarette and stared out.
A truck was parked down there. The faint, metallic sounds of the garbage cans clanging against its sides as the men emptied them came up to me. I remembered the expression on Spit’s face when I first explained the job to the boys.
He had been afraid. But Solly was hot for it, and that won him over. Just the three of us could handle it. But first Gold’s routine would have to be checked; that was important.
One of us would have to follow him for several nights in a row as he left the store and make sure of all his stops and habits. Then on the right night we’d jump him.
There was a couple of hundred bucks in it, I had told them. All we had to do was knock him cold and snatch the dough. It was a cinch. I hadn’t told them anything about my father working in the store. It was none of their business.
The sound of a girl’s voice coming in the open window made me think of Nellie. She was a strange kid for a luksh. Usually they were loud and tough and you could tell they were Italian as soon as they opened their mouths, but she was different. She was soft-spoken and gentle and nice.
She had liked me, too. I knew that. It was funny how things happened. You took out a dame for one reason and suddenly you find out that things weren’t what they seemed. That the dame was level and that you really liked her. Then you didn’t want to do anything that might make her dislike you.
That was a strange thing. I had never felt like that about any dame before. I remembered what she had said: “Maybe we’re in love.” Maybe we were. I couldn’t explain any other way how I felt. There had never been any other dame I was content just to hold and talk to and be near. Maybe she was right in what she said.
The girl’s voice floated in the window again. I craned my neck into the street in order to see her. The street was empty. Again I heard the girl’s voice. There was something familiar about it, I knew that voice, but it sounded strange coming in my window.
The girl was talking again. This time I traced the sound to the roof over my head. I looked up. I could see the glow of a cigarette over the parapet. Then I recognized the voice. It was Mimi’s. I wondered what she was doing up on the roof at this hour. It was after one o’clock. Then I remembered she had said something about a date with that guy in her office she had a crush on—a George somebody. I had twitted her about going out with a jerk who worked in an office and she had been angry. “He’s better than those candy-store bums you hang out with,” she had retorted.
I decided to go up there and see what Miss High-and-Mighty was doing. I knew that if you went up on the roof down in this neighbourhood at night, you weren’t going to look at the stars. I slipped into my trousers and silently left my room.
The roof door was open and I quietly stepped outside. I hid in the shadow of the door and looked toward the front of the roof. She was there all right. So was the guy. I watched them.
In the moonlight I could see Mimi’s face. I caught my breath sharply. She didn’t look a goody-goody now. The guy was talking, his voice low. I couldn’t make out his words, but he seemed to be pleading. Mimi shook her head and he went off again in another torrent of words.
She shook her head again and began to speak. “No, George; forget about marriage. I like you very much, but I’m tired of worrying about money and we’ll only have the same thing. I don’t want that.”
I grinned to myself. Mimi was no dope. A buck was a buck. Still, it seemed funny to think about her getting married. It made me realize that she was all grown up now, she wasn’t a kid any more.
The fellow pulled her to him again. He said something to her and kissed her. I watched them, still grinning. For all her high-and-mighty ways, she knew the score when it came to necking. It didn’t look like this was the first time she had been up on a roof. I turned silently and went back down the stairs to my room.
About fifteen minutes later I heard the door open and I went out into the hall. She was closing the door silently and she jumped when she turned around and saw me.
“What are you doing up, Danny?” she asked in surprise.
I didn’t answer, just stood there grinning at her.
She stared at me angrily. “What are you grinning at?”
“Your lipstick is smeared,” I told her, my grin becoming broader and more knowing.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “You stayed up to spy on me!”
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “You and your boy friend were making so much noise up on the roof over my head I couldn’t sleep.”
“You got a dirty mind!” she flung at me.
“Have I? Take some advice from your kid brother, baby. Next time you go in for any heavy lovin’, wipe your lipstick off first.”
She bit her lip furiously, too angry to think of a retort.
Chapter Four
A twinge of sympathy for him ran through me. The fierce pride I had in my being was hurt by the slow disintegration. I stood up. “Here, Papa,” I said quickly. “Sit here by the window.” It was the comfortable place in the kitchen.
Slowly he slumped into the chair. He looked over at me gratefully. “Thanks for bringing me over my supper, Danny,” he said wearily. “I was busy and I didn’t see you come in.”
I nodded my head. “The clerk told me,” I said, sparing his feelings. I knew he wouldn’t want me to admit I had heard Gold hollering at him.
Mamma came over to the table and put a bowl of cereal in front of him. “Why didn’t you sleep later, Harry?” she asked concernedly.
He looked up at her. “Who can sleep when the daylight comes? I can’t get used to it.”
“You should rest, though,” Mamma said. “You work hard.”
He picked up the spoon and began to eat without answering, but he had no appetite and soon he pushed the plate away from him. “Just give me coffee, Mary,” he said in a tired voice.
Mamma put a cup of coffee in front of him. “Were you busy yesterday?” she asked.
“Mr. Gold kept me busy,” he said without looking up. Then he looked at me, realizing what he had said. I could see he was wondering what I knew.
I kept my face impassive. As far as he was concerned, I knew nothing, had seen nothing, and had heard nothing. “What kind of a guy is this Gold like?” I asked, looking down at my plate.
I could feel Papa’s gaze on me. “Why do you ask?”
I didn’t look up. “Just curious, I guess,” I answered. I couldn’t tell him the real reason.
Papa thought for a moment. When he spoke, his words were very carefully chosen. He surprised me with his understatement. “He’s all right, only very nervous. Got a lot of things to do, a lot of things on his mind.”
I put another spoonful of cereal in my mouth. “Yuh like workin’ for him, Papa?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
Our eyes met and his fell to his coffee cup. “It’s a job,” he answered evasively.
“How come he’s manager?” I asked.
“The man before him got sick and had to quit. He had my job as the only other registered man, so naturally he was promoted.”
I looked at him interestedly. That was an angle. “If he quit, would you get the job, Pop?”
Papa laughed self-consciously. “I don’t know, but I guess I might. The supervisor likes me.”
“Who’s that?”
“He’s the boss of a group of stores. He comes from the main office.”
“He’s boss over Mr. Gold too?” I continued.
Papa nodded. “Over everybody.” He looked at me with a curious smile. “So many questions, Danny,” he chided. “You thinking of going to work in a drugstore for the summer?”
“Maybe,” I said evasively.
“You’re not going to work for Mr. Gottkin in the country?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I haven’t heard from him yet.” I was disappointed about that too. I had expected that Sam would drop me a line by now, but I guess that business last year with Miss Schindler had burned him more than he let me know.
“Why don’t you write him?” Mamma asked.
I turned to her. “Where? I don’t even know where he is. He’s always travelling. For all I know, he may have given up the business entirely.” I couldn’t tell them the reason why I wouldn’t write him.
Just then Mimi came rushing in. “I’ve just got time for coffee, Mamma,” she said. “I’ll be late for work.”
Mamma shook her head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you, staying up so late you can’t get up in the morning.”
“I do,” I said, grinning, remembering last night. “Mimi’s got a feller.”
Papa looked at her with interest. “A nice boy, Miriam?” he asked.
I answered before she had a chance. “A jerk from her office,” I said.
She turned on me furiously. “Keep your mouth shut!” she snapped. “At least he’s got more sense than to hang around a candy store all day and night like you do. He’s going to make something out of himself, not be a street-corner bum.”
Mamma put out a placating hand. “Don’t say things like that to your brother. It’s not nice.”
Mimi turned angrily to her. “Why not?” She was almost shouting. “Who does he think he is that everybody has to be afraid of him? Ever since we moved here, it’s been Danny this and Danny that. When he changed school it was terrible, but I changed school in the last term and nobody said anything. Does he try to get a job after school or do some work? He knows how bad we need money but he doesn’t lift a finger to help and nobody says nothing to him. Everybody’s afraid to hurt his feelings. All he does is hang out in a candy store all day and night with a bunch of bums and comes home to eat and sleep like a king. He’s a bum, nothing but a bum, and it’s about time somebody told it to him!”
“Mimi, shut up!” Papa was on his feet, his face pale. He looked at me guiltily.
She was staring at him, her eyes filled with angry tears; then she turned toward me. I stared at her coldly. For a moment she looked at me, then turned and ran, crying, from the kitchen.
Papa sat down heavily and looked at me. Mamma was watching me too. They were waiting for me to speak, but I had nothing to say. At last Papa spoke in a heavy voice. “Altogether wrong she’s not, Danny,” he said gently.
I didn’t answer. My lips were grimly shut.
“Those fellers down at the candy store, they’re no good,” he continued.
I pushed my plate away from me and stood up. “I didn’t pick this neighbourhood. It wasn’t my fault we moved down here. What d’ya want me to do, become a hermit because Mimi doesn’t approve of my friends?”
Papa shook his head. “No, but other friends you can’t find?”
I stared at him. It was no use. He would never understand. There was nothing to say. The estrangement I had felt between us the first day we moved down here grew stronger. And it was too late to go back. “There are no other friends to find,” I said flatly.
“Then there’s something you can do‚” he persisted. “There must be.”
I shook my head with finality. “It’s not anything I can do, Papa,” I told him coldly. “Only you can do it.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
Mamma came toward me. “Yes, what’s that?” she echoed.
“Get back my house,” I said slowly. “You lost it. You get it back. Then maybe we can start all over.”
I watched the pain grow and grow in their eyes until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Then I walked out of the apartment.
She spotted me instantly, almost as soon as I came through the door. I sauntered down the counter to where she stood. I could see her look hurriedly in the mirror behind her and pat her hair. I climbed up on a stool and she turned around smiling.
“Hello, Danny,” she whispered shyly. I could see a blush running up her neck into her face.
I smiled back at her. She was a nice kid. “Hi, Nellie,” I whispered quietly. “Was your father mad?”
She shook her head. “He believed me,” she whispered. She looked up suddenly. In the mirror I could see the manager walking toward us. “A chocolate soda,” she said quickly in a businesslike tone. “Yes, sir.”
She turned and took a glass from the shelf behind her. I smiled at her in the mirror. The manager passed us without a glance. She sighed in relief and went about making the soda.
She came back down the counter and placed the soda in front of me. “Your hair is so blond it’s almost white,” she whispered. “I dreamed about you last night.”
I looked at he
r quizzically. The kid had it bad. But I felt flattered. “A good dream?” I asked, slipping the straws into the soda.
She nodded, excitement lurking in her eyes. “Did you think about me?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“I want you to think about me,” she said quickly.
I stared at her. Her face was warm and attractive. She had less make-up on today than yesterday. Today she looked younger. She began to blush under my gaze.
“Will you meet me tonight?” she asked eagerly.
I nodded. “Same place.”
I could see the manager coming back toward us again. “That will be ten cents, please,” she said in her business voice.
My dime rang on the counter and she picked it up. She pressed down the register keys and the bell rang as the drawer opened. She dropped in the dime and closed it. The manager had gone again. She came back to me. “Nine o’clock‚” she whispered.
I nodded my head again and she turned away in answer to another customer. I finished my soda quickly and left the store.
The three of us walked down Delancey Street. Solly slouched along listening to Spit and me.
I pulled them to a stop in front of the drugstore. “This is the place,” I said.
Spit’s voice was surprised. “This is the joint where your old man works,” he said.
It was my turn to be surprised. I didn’t think he knew. But I should have known better, there were no secrets down here. “So?” I asked belligerently.
“What if he gets wise?” Spit asked excitedly.
“What’s he got to get wise to?” I retorted. “They’ll never think of me.”
“But this is the McCoy,” Spit said. “If the cops getcha, yuh go into the can an’ they throw away the key.”
“Yuh like workin’ the five-and-dime for peanuts,” I asked sarcastically, “or yuh lookin’ for some real dough?”
Solly finally spoke. “Danny’s right. To hell with the cheap seats. This looks okay to me.”
A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) Page 13