“Lord, yes!” said Lizabeth. “Dis mon goin to trouble all de ladies, goin to be kissin after dem and huggin dem ...”
“Can’t you talk?” asked the bald man.
He thought he could, but there were so many voices, so many words to choose from . . . maybe later. No.
“Well, I guess we’d better get you a name. How bout Bill? I got a good friend up in Boston’s named Bill.”
That suited the old man fine. He liked being associated with the bald man’s good friend.
“Tell you what, Bill.” The bald man reached inside the door and handed him a broom. “You sweep off the steps and pick up what you see needs pickin, and we’ll pass you out some beans and bread after a while. How’s that sound?”
It sounded good, and Bill began sweeping at once, taking meticulous care with each step. The voices died to a murmurous purr in his thoughts. He beat the broom against the pilings and dust fell onto it from the floorboards; he beat it until no more would fall. He was happy to be among people again because . . . (“Don’t be thinkin bout the back time, mon! Dat all gone.” “You just get on with your clean dere, Bill. Everything goin to work out in de end.” “Dass it, mon! You goin to clean dis whole town before you through!” “Don’t vex with de mon! He doin his work!”) And he was! He picked up everything within fifty feet of the shanty and chased off a ghost crab, smoothing over the delicate slashes its legs made in the sand.
By the time Bill had cleaned for a half hour he felt so at home, so content and enwrapped in his place and purpose, that when the old woman next door came out to toss her slops into the street, he scampered up her stairs, threw his arms around her, and kissed her full on the mouth. Then he stood grinning, at attention with his broom.
Startled at first, the woman put her hands on her hips and looked him up and down, shaking her head in dismay.
“My God,” she said sorrowfully. “Dis de best we can do for dis poor mon? Dis de best thing de island can make of itself?”
Bill didn’t understand. The voices chattered, irritated; they didn’t seem angry at him, though, and he kept on smiling. Once again the woman shook her head and sighed, but after a few seconds Bill’s smile encouraged her to smile in return.
“I guess if dis de worst of it,” she said, “den better must come.” She patted Bill on the shoulder and turned to the door. “Everybody!” she called. “Quickly now! Come see dis lovin soul dat de storm have let fall on Rudy Welcomes’s door!”
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Universe 14 - [Anthology] Page 24