My footsteps echoed on the cement stoop. It had taken me a long time to realize it. You couldn’t feel too much if you wanted to get along. You had to close your heart and lock it against people. No one must touch you, for you were alone on the day you were born and you’d be alone on the day you died.
I put out my hand to open the massive front door, but it swung open before I touched it. “Hello, Danny,” the voice said quietly.
There was no surprise in me. I had heard the voice before. It was the voice of the house that had spoken to me the day Nellie and I came to buy it.
“Hello, Papa.”
My father took my hand and together we walked into the house as once we had many years ago. For a moment we didn’t speak, there was no need for words. Then we stopped in the living-room and looked at each other. There were tears standing in his eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen him weep. His voice was low, but filled with pride, and I realized as he spoke that his pride was for me.
“We’ve all come home again, Danny,” he said humbly. “If you can forgive an old man’s mistakes, we’ll never have to leave what we found here.”
I smiled slowly, beginning to understand many things. His voice was the voice of the house. It had never really been my house at all, it had belonged to him. When I had told the house of my love, I was speaking to him, and when the house spoke to me, he was speaking to me. It would never be my house until he gave it to me, no matter how much I paid for it.
I looked around the room. Something had been missing all the time, and now that he was here, the house was warm and alive again. I was glad that he had come. I didn’t have to say anything cither; he seemed to know just how I felt.
“It was the most wonderful birthday present I ever had, Papa,” I said.
Then for the first time he became aware of the way I looked. “My God!” he exclaimed. “Danny, what happened?”
His words snapped me back to the present. “I had an accident, Papa,” I said. “Where’s Nellie?”
His face stared up at me. “Mamma’s got her to lie down upstairs. She was almost hysterical with worry over you.”
There was a sound at the top of the stairs. Nellie was standing there, her white face looking down at me. In the harsh white light of the still unshaded stairway bulbs I must have been a hideous sight. Her lips parted in a half scream. “Danny!”
Her voice was still echoing against the walls as I started up the stairway toward her. She took a small step down toward me, then her eyes turned upward in their sockets and she fainted.
“Nellie!” I shouted, springing to catch her.
But she was falling, tumbling clumsily down half the flight before I could stop her. She was a small huddled heap near the wall and I was on my knees beside her, my hands frantically turning her face toward me. “Nellie!” I screamed at her.
Her face was the white transparency of a bottle of milk, and her eyes were squeezed tight with pain. I could see her bloodless lips whispering in her agony. “Danny, Danny, I was so worried about you.
I turned wildly toward Papa. “There’s a doctor in the corner house across the street,” I shouted at him. “Get him! Quick!”
I turned back to Nellie, hearing the front door slam. I rested her head against my shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was very still. She seemed to be hardly breathing.
Why did I have to learn so many things so late? I could see the whole thing now. It was my fault. Nellie had been right. I hugged her head against my breast. It couldn’t happen, it mustn’t. She was all my world. I shut my eyes tightly and prayed, the tears seeping from beneath my eyelids.
“Please, God…. Please …”
Nervously I paced up and down the small hospital waiting-room. It seemed as if I had been there for days instead of only a few hours. I stuck another cigarette in my mouth and tried to light it. I broke three matches before Zep finally lit one for me and held it to my cigarette.
I looked at him gratefully. I don’t know what we would have done without him that day. All day he had stayed with Nellie, calming her and helping her, and now he was here with me. “Thanks, Zep,” I muttered.
Exhausted, I dropped into the chair between my father and him. “The doctor’s been out an awful long time,” I said.
Zep looked at me understandingly. He knew how I felt. “Don’t worry, Danny,” he said, awkwardly patting my shoulder. “She’ll be okay. The doctor said she had a chance, and I know my sister. She’s a scrapper. She’ll come through.”
That was it. She had a chance. The doctor had said that. She had a chance. I had to keep thinking of that over and over or I would go mad—stark, raving mad. All the way down to the hospital, riding next to her, her cold limp hand in mine, as we roared through the streets in the screaming ambulance, I had to keep thinking that.
She had hurt herself inside. The baby had shifted, the doctor said. There was a pressure inside her and she was torn and bleeding. All inside where you couldn’t see it. You could only know it when you looked at her face, white and bloodless.
Quickly and efficiently they had placed her on a small white table and rushed her up to the operating-room. Her eyes were still closed, she couldn’t see me. Through her pale lips came a thin small sound of pain. Then she was gone through the white doors and I had to wait.
That was more than two hours ago and I was still waiting. We were still waiting. I looked over at her mother, sitting on a chair by the window, nervously twisting a handkerchief. Her eyes were puffy with tears as she listened silently to my mother trying to console her. She hadn’t said anything to me, but I knew that she blamed me for what had happened to Nellie. And she was right. But still, if it hadn’t been for Sam none of this would have happened.
There were footsteps in the corridor outside. Mimi was coming toward me, an anxious look on her face. “Danny, what happened?”
I didn’t answer her; my eyes were fixed on Sam, walking behind her. There was a strange uncomfortable look on his face. “What are you doing here?” I shot at him.
“Your father called and told us Nellie had an accident. Mimi was too upset to drive, so I brought her out here,” he explained.
I got to my feet slowly. I could feel my legs trembling with rage. My mouth was suddenly dry. “You satisfied now?” I asked harshly. “This the way you wanted it?”
There was a peculiarly shamed look in his eyes. “This wasn’t the way I wanted it, Danny,” he replied in a low voice.
Then I heard the doctor’s voice: “Mr. Fisher!”
Sam was forgotten as I turned and grasped the doctor’s lapels. “How is she, Doc?” I asked huskily. “How is she?”
His face, covered with weary lines, relaxed slightly as he looked at me. “She’s resting comfortably, Mr. Fisher,” he answered quietly. “She’s in considerable pain, but she’ll be all right.”
I went limp, all the emotion drained out of me. I sank weakly back into a chair and covered my face with my hands. For once my prayers had been heard.
I felt the doctor’s hand on my shoulder and looked up at him. “Can I see her, Doc?”
“Not just yet.” He shook his head, his face was grave. “Mr. Fisher, we have an outside chance to save your son’s life if we can find the right type of blood.”
I was on my feet again. I didn’t understand him. “What d’yuh mean, Doc?”
His eyes were on mine. “Your son wasn’t badly hurt, maybe because he was premature and therefore small, but he has lost some blood. If we can replace it soon enough, he has a good chance of growing up.”
I was pulling at his arm. “Come on, then,” I said anxiously. “I got plenty.”
He shook his head again. “I’m afraid your blood wouldn’t do,” he explained. “There was a mild Rh factor involved, and your blood would be incompatible. The type we need is one that only one donor in a thousand might have. I’ve put out a call for one already. It all depends on what time we can get him here.”
A sinking feeling came back into m
e again. No luck. I slipped back into the chair. The doctor’s voice continued his explanation. “The only chance your baby would have had anyway was by a cæsarian section with complete blood replacement.”
Zep’s voice spilled into my ears like the sweetest music. “Maybe my blood will match, Doctor.”
I looked at him gratefully, then back at the doctor. “Maybe it will,” the doctor said wearily. “Come with me and we’ll see.” He looked around the room. “If any of you would like to be tested, come along.”
We all followed him out of the waiting-room. A few steps down we turned into a small laboratory, where a nurse was sitting, reading a newspaper. She got to her feet quickly as we entered.
“Check the blood type of these people right away, Nurse,” the doctor said.
“Yes, doctor,” the nurse replied, already turning to the table behind her.
I watched her prepare the slides and place them near the microscope. When they were all finished, she deftly inserted one under the lens.
“I’ll look at it, Nurse,” the doctor said quickly.
She stepped aside as the doctor bent and peered into the microscope. He shook his head and she slipped the next one into the rack. I held my breath until he had looked at them all. Then he straightened up, shaking his head.
“No, Doc?” I asked hopelessly.
He looked around the room. My mother and father, Zep and his mother were watching him intently. He turned back to me. “Sorry, Mr. Fisher,” he said sincerely. “No one here will do. I guess we’ll just have to wait for the donor to get here.”
“But it might be too late,” I said weakly. “My son might—might—” It was the first time I had said those words: my son. But I couldn’t finish the sentence.
The doctor’s hand rested sympathetically on my arm. “We can only hope he’ll get here soon,” he said comfortingly. “He might be here any minute.”
The door opened and I turned toward it hopefully. Then I felt my heart slipping down into my shoes. It was only Sam.
Awkwardly he pushed his way into the room. He looked at me with embarrassment for a moment, then turned to the doctor.
“Down at the blood bank, Doc,” he said in his rough heavy voice, “they told me I got a rare-type blood. Maybe it’s the type yuh’re lookin’ for.”
“We’ll find out in a minute,” the doctor said. He beckoned to the nurse.
I stared at Sam for a second, then walked past him out into the corridor. The laboratory door swung shut behind me. There was no use in hanging around: he could do me no good. All he brought me was trouble. From the first time I saw him.
“Danny! Danny!” Zep’s voice echoed excitedly behind me. He was running down the corridor toward me, his dark face alive with excitement. “The doc says Sam’s blood is the type!”
I stared at him, not believing my ears.
Half an hour later the doctor came into the waiting-room where we were sitting. There was a smile on his face. He came toward me, holding out his hand. “I guess you’ll be passing out cigars after all, Mr. Fisher,” he said. “Congratulations!”
I could hardly see his face through the blur in my eyes. “Thank you, Doc,” I said fervently. “Thank you.”
The doctor smiled again. “Don’t thank me,” he said quickly. “Just thank God and your brother-in-law for being around! It’s a miracle for a seven-month premature Rh to get even this far!”
My mother-in-law began to cry happily. Zep was hugging her. Mamma, Papa, and Mimi were crowding around me. Mimi’s arms were about my neck, her lips against my cheek. My tears were wet on her face. Nothing else mattered—only the joy of this moment.
I turned to the doctor. “Can I see my wife now, Doc?”
He nodded. “But only for a few minutes,” he warned. “She’s still very weak.”
The nurse sitting at the side of the bed rose quickly when I came into the room, and I heard the door close softly behind me. I stared at the bed. Only Nellie’s face showed above the white sheets, her bluish-black hair cascading across the pillow behind her. Her eyes were closed. She seemed to be sleeping.
I walked over to the bed and sat down beside her, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of disturbing her. But somehow she knew I was there. Her eyes fluttered open. They were dark brown and gentle. Her lips barely moved. “Danny.” She tried to smile.
I put my hand on the sheet where I could see her hand beneath it. “Don’t try to talk now, baby,” I whispered. “Everything’s all right.”
“The baby too?” Her voice was faint and doubtful.
I nodded. “He’s perfect,” I said. “Everything’s perfect. Don’t worry now. Just rest and get well.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “I almost messed things up, didn’t I?” she asked.
I put my face close to her cheek. “You didn’t,” I said. “It was me. You were right. I shouldn’t have gone yesterday.”
She tried to shake her head dissentingly, but it was too much effort for her. She closed her eyes wearily. “No,” she whispered, “it was my fault. I should have known you would come home if something hadn’t kept you. But I kept remembering how I felt the last time you went away and I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you. I had such a feeling about you, Danny.” The tears rolled down her cheeks silently. “That something terrible was going to happen to you—to us—and I would be alone.”
“Forget it; we’ll never be alone again,” I said earnestly. “No matter what happens now, we’ll always have Junior with us.”
Her eyes opened and she looked at me. “Did you see him yet, Danny?” she asked almost shyly. “What’s he like?”
I had caught a quick glimpse of him when I came upstairs with the doctor. He had stopped in front of the nursery and let me peek into the incubator.
Nellie’s eyes were on my face warmly. I could see the faintest tinge of colour coming back into her cheeks. I smiled at her.
“He’s tiny and he’s cute,” I said softly. “Just like his Mamma.”
An excited chatter was coming from the waiting-room as I returned to it. My hand was seized enthusiastically the moment I stepped in.
“Mazeltov, Danny!” my father was saying, a happy smile on his face. Everybody crowded around me, all talking at once.
My mother-in-law seized my other hand and planted a big wet kiss on my cheek. I grinned happily at her. From somewhere my father had obtained a bottle of whisky. Now we were standing in a small semicircle, the liquor in the paper cups making a small sloshing sound. My father made the toast.
“To your son!” he said, looking at me proudly. “May he ever be happy! And to your wife, may she ever take pleasure in him! And to you, may you ever take pride in him—as I do in you!”
The tears were in my eyes and they weren’t put there by the whisky. I had waited a long time for my father to say that. Maybe I didn’t deserve it, but I wanted to hear the words anyway.
Papa raised his cup again. He turned to Sam. “And to my other son,” he said quietly, “who made an old man see how wrong he’d been and now puts me further in his debt with his blood!”
I was bewildered. “What do you mean, Pa?” I asked.
Papa looked at me. “It was Sam that fought with me and made me realize what I had done. It was he who convinced me of what a fool I had been and made me go to you.”
I stared at Sam. His face was flushing. Papa’s voice in my ear seemed to be coming from a great distance: “And now he has saved your son’s life with his blood. We both owe him a great deal. Me for bringing you back to me, you for giving your son life.” Papa seemed to laugh a little. “A great deal,” he repeated. “In the old days a man would have to repay in kind. He would have a right to our blood, even to our lives if he should want them.”
I moved closer to Sam, a feeling of gratitude rising in me. My father was still talking.
“Now that you have a son, Danny, you will learn the pain of your deeds. Even those little things you think will bother no one will hurt him, an
d so hurt you. May you never know the pain I have known, the pain of having your child pay for your errors.”
Papa was right. Maybe I would never pay for what I did, but my son might. I was still staring at Sam. He was smiling at me. Then I remembered.
Somewhere, Fields was waiting for him. And it was I who had made the deal. My mind raced madly. There had to be a way to call him off.
I glanced quickly at the clock on the waiting-room wall. It was after ten. I had to reach Maxie now and cry quits. “I gotta make a call,” I said wildly, and ran out of the waiting-room.
There was a telephone booth in the corridor. I ducked into it and dialled Fields’s number hurriedly. The phone rang several times before anyone answered. It was a woman’s voice.
“Is Maxie Fields there?” I asked harshly.
“He isn’t in,” the tired voice answered. “Who’s calling?”
“Danny Fisher,” I said quickly. “Do you know where he is? I’ve got to find him!”
“Danny!” the voice cried. “Yes, you’ve got to! This is Ronnie. You can’t let him go through with it. Sam was the only friend you ever had! He was the one who made Maxie lay off you when you first came back; Sam swore he’d kill him if he ever laid a hand on you!”
I closed my eyes wearily. “And I thought it was you,” I said.
“No,” she answered; “he’d never listen to me. I came back because Ben got sick and I needed money for him. But it didn’t do any good. He died.”
“Sarah, I’m sorry.”
I don’t know whether she heard me, because the words kept spilling out of her like a flood. She was talking about Sam again—Sam and me. “You can’t let him do anything to Sam, Danny. You musn’t! It was only Sam who kept him from moving in on your business. He persuaded Lombardi to tell Maxie to lay off because he was taking it over himself, and Maxie couldn’t do anything about it. He was furious. You don’t know how bad he is. You gotta stop him, Danny!”
A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) Page 38