Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (17 page)

He rolled over, lay awake for a while, once more
almost crying, the confusion blinding him, but he was so exhausted
from all that had happened that day that he soon fell asleep.

The next morning he awoke early and left before Mary
had a chance to speak to him. He went to the Greeks and had coffee
and cake, glancing at the clock every now and then, but still it
wasnt even 6:30 yet. He had another cup of coffee, another cake,
gulping them down, still looking at the clock every few minutes
feeling a need to rush, no thought from what or to where, but only a
vague yet crushing pressure of time, time that seemed to wrap itself
around him like a python. He dropped money on the counter and went
across the street to his office. He went immediately to his desk and
sat down, looking at the desk for many minutes—the serpent not
loosening its grip—unable to feel the air around his body. He lit a
cigarette and looked around the office. He went over to the beer keg
and pumped for a while but nothing came out. Not even a hint of foam.
It was empty. Theyll be here with another one soon though.

The python continued to crush him and time seemed
motionless. The hands on the clock were stuck. The urgency now was
not only for him to move, but for time to move too; for the men to
come, to take their signs, to walk, to joke, to drink coffee and
beer; for him to stamp books, to listen, to tell, to watch. They had
to come soon. A cigarette only takes a certain amount of time to
smoke and though this takes time it seems to take less and less with
each one and you can only smoke so many, there comes a time when you
have to stop, when you just cant light the next one ... at least not
for a while.

He opened the rear door
and looked around not really seeing anything. Nothing seemed to
really exist. The objects in the office were there, they could be
seen each in its place, yet still there was confusion. He knew what
each object was, what it was for yet there was no real definition. He
sat at his desk for a while, walked around for a while . . . sat . .
. walked . . . sat . . . walked . . . looked . . . sat . . . walked .
. . the only important thing was that the men get there. They had to.
The day had to start. He walked . . . sat. . . smoked . . . the
python still there. Were there no hands on the clock? He smoked . . .
Drew a cup of coffee ... It was strong, bitter, yet it passed his
mouth and throat without leaving a taste. Only a film. Dont clocks
tick anymore? Is even the sun motionless. The water is boiled, poured
over the coffee and it drips through and time passes . . . even if it
only drips it passes . . . through. How long does it take his chair
to get from the desk to the wall a few feet behind him when he pushes
and the chair rolls on its little wheels? Even that takes time: time
enough for a man to walk from the door to the signs, or from the urn
to the door; enough time to stamp three books one right after the
other: 1,2,3 . . . and yet there was not a definable thought in his
mind. Only a terrifying effort to get from one side of a match box to
another . . . the door opened and three men came in. Harry jumped up.
The python slithered into the match box. The day had begun.

* * *

Whattayasay, bumping into the corner of the desk and
stumbling toward the men. Bright and early, eh? Thats the way. Cant
be too early for those bastards. Theres some coffee left. Have some
new coffee soon. Gonna have some beer soon too. The men stood looking
at him for a moment hearing his rambling voice, then started moving
toward the urn. Guess I/ll order some cake an buns and stuff from
some baker. Cant go all day without eatin, eh? and the union wants ta
take care of its men. Cant hit the concrete without somethin. The men
looked at the coffee, poured it out and started putting on signs.
Dont forget to get ya book stamped, adjusting the sign on one of the
men then rushing back to his desk, yanking open the drawer and
plunging his hand in and bulldozing it back and forth until he found
the stamp and ink pad. Gotta get yabook stamped. Anybody who dont
have a stamp is gonna get his ass ina sling. The first crew who
walked yesterday did a good job. Ya just gotta keep movin or the
copsll break ya balls. The men put their books on the table, looking
at each other as Harry pounded the books with the stamp, still
rambling. The fuck-in copsed just love ta try and break the picket
line. The men started moving toward the door. Dont stay in a mob, but
stay apart and keep movin. You guys can take the front. I/ll send the
other guys around back and on the sides and if anybody gives ya any
trouble just yell, aint nobody gonna break this strike. The men left
and started across the street to the factory, Harry yelling after
them ta keep movin and make sure only the punk pencil pushers get in.
The men shook their heads and continued walking. They had a little
time to put in and then the day was theirs. Strikes can be o k
sometimes. It was a nice day.

Harry hustled around the office. The beer should be
there soon. He looked at the signs. They were o k. A few more men
came in and Harry said ta grab a sign and he stamped their books and
told them where to walk, and ta keep movin, and more men came in and
grabbed signs and the day was really there now and soon the man came
with the beer and Harry told him to come back with two more kegs
later and Harry called for boxes of cakes and buns and signed all the
bills spreading his signature across the bottom of the paper and
putting his title, shop steward local 392, under it and Harry kept
his glass filled with beer all through the day and the men came and
went, took signs, returned them, had their books stamped; washed and
polished their cars, played cards or just stood around talking and
joking, enjoying the clear sky and warm weather; leaving when they
finished their tour of duty and joking about the three day weekend
and about this being the first Friday theyve had off since they cant
remember when and not many of them took the strike seriously. Theyd
have to picket for a while, a few days maybe even a week or two, but
in weather like this who cares (if it gets a little warmer we can
even go to the beach after walking) and theyll make the money back in
no time with the raise and the unions going to give them food next
Saturday so theres really nothing to worry about. It was an early
vacation.

The keg of beer was empty almost an hour before the
other two were delivered and Harry and a few others who had been
drinking steadily were slightly drunk. When the two kegs were set up
Harry told the guy to bring four more Monday morning. That should
lastus, and he laughed his laugh.

During the afternoon Harry sat in the yard, in the
back, drinking and talking with some of the men as they played cards
or just sat around. When some one took a sign he yelled at them to
come in the back and get their book stamped and they kidded him about
what a hard job he had and he slapped them on the back and laughed
his laugh and the men laughed and put on their signs and walked up
and down around the factory, talking with the cops, kidding them
about having to be there longer than they did and the cops smiled
telling them they wished they could strike and maybe then theyd get a
break and that they hoped the men got what they wanted without being
out of work too long and occasionally one of the men would stand
still for a moment and look at the cops and smile and someone else
would yell, laughingly, to keep moving and the teams of pickets
changed every hour or so and the conversation would start from the
beginning between themselves and the cops, only an occasional word
changing and then the cops too got a relief and the ones leaving
waved to the men, happy that their day had ended and their weekend
started and the new cops stood silent for a while, but they too, soon
started talking with the pickets and everyone enjoyed the weather and
the novelty and the day moved along as logically as the sun.

Harry was drunk by the time the last sign was piled
against the wall. He put his stamp and pad back in the drawer and he
and a couple of others stayed and finished the beer, hanging over the
keg, pumping and pumping until nothing came out of the tap but a
hiss. Harry put his arms around the shoulders of the two near him and
told them they would show those sonsofbitches. And especially that
punk Wilson. I/ll show that fuckin fairy, that queer punk. They all
laughed.

Harry went across the street to the Greeks after
locking his office. Some of the neighborhood guys were there, among
them the ones who were in the bar last night, and Harry sat at the
counter and ordered something to eat and occasionally spoke to the
guys about the strike, they asking him how it was going and he
telling them they hadem by the balls and they should come over and
have a drink. He hung around the Greeks for a few hours until the
guys left then he too left and went home.

The next day he slept late and left the house right
after eating and went to the Greeks, but it was too early for any of
the guys to be there. He sat around for a while then went over to his
office and sat at his desk. He smoked a few cigarettes then called
the Secretary of local 392 and told him that he was in the office
just checkin on things and the Secretary told him he was doing a good
job and Harry hung up the phone and tried to think of someone else to
call but he couldnt think of another except the beer distributors
number. He called them. He told them who he was and said that they
might as well send over the four kegs now as wait for Monday. He sat
around for a while, filled out his expense sheet then walked around
the office until the beer was delivered and the kegs set up then he
filled a pitcher and sat at his desk with it and a glass drinking and
watching the street.

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon he saw a car
park in front of the Greeks and a few of the guys get out so he
locked the office and went to the Greeks. He asked the guys how they
were doing and they nodded and he sat for a while with them, but no
one else came in. Eventually he asked them if they would like some
beer, I got four fuckin kegs in the office, and they said yeah, so
they left, the guys leaving word with the counterman where they would
be and went to the office. Harry got them glasses and he and Vinnie,
Sal and Malfie sat around drinking beer. Harry told them how he was
in charge of the office and the entire strike, but they didnt pay too
much attention to him, figuring him for a creep from the first time
he spoke to them, and just yeahd him and drank the beer and looked
around the office. Malfie told him he should have a radio so they
could listen to some music and Vinnie and Sal agreed and Harry said
he didnt have one, but maybe he should get one. Yeah, sure yashould.
The union oughtta give yaone so ya-wont go nuts just sittin around
here doin nothin. Yeah. Why not. Harry told them he had a lot to do
takin care of the strike. Ya dont know all the—if the unionll pay
for the beer they should pay for a radio. Yeah. If you toldem
yaneeded one they couldnt say nothin. Yeah. Yeah, they wouldnt say
nothin if I got one. Yeah, and afta the strike ya could take it home.
Who would know the difference. Yeah, why not? We can gettya a good
one for 20, 30 bucks. Krist, thats a lotta money. A lotta money?
Whats 30 bucks to the union. They got millions. We/ll getya a good
radio and yacan giveus the money and get it from the union. Dont
worry about it, they wont say nothin. As soon as we see a good one
we/ll pick it up forya. The guys looked at each other and smiled
thinking of the radio in the window of the new store on 5th avenue.
We should be able ta get yaone by tomorrow. Yeah, a real nice job.

They continued drinking and talking, Harry telling
them about the union and what he was doing. From time to time he
picked up the empty pitcher and refilled it and set it on his desk,
being sure to push his chair back and let it roll to the wall before
getting up. After a few hours a few more of the guys came in and by
the time the sun set Harry was getting drunk and entertaining about a
dozen of the neighborhood guys, feeling like a patriarch because he
was in charge of the strike. The guys drank the beer and ignored
Harry, talking to him only when necessary; yet Harry was happy,
enjoying having them around him and excited with anticipation. He
asked Vinnie, laughing and slapping him on the shoulder, who that
fruit was that was with them the othernight and Vinnie told him she
was just one of the queens from uptown, onea Georgettes friends. Why,
ya wanna meeter? Naw, slapping Vinnies knee, what the fuck I wanna
meet a fuckin fruit for. I dont know, maybe ya go for that stuff,
laughing and peering at Harry. Haha, leaning back in his chair,
pushing with his hands against the desk, the chair rolling back to
the wall. I was just wonderin what ya guys were doing with a fruit. I
didnt think yahung around with those kindda fucks. Theyre o k
sometimes. Theyre always good for loot when they got it and they
getya high when yawanna. Stick around. She may be around later,
smiling. Hahaha, rolling the chair back to the desk. I dont go for
that shit. Im strickly a cunt man myself. I was just wonderin how
come he hung around with you guys is all. I got more cunt than ya
could fuck in a year. Shit, last night I had ta chase one away, a
good look-in bitch too, but I promised the old lady Id throw a fuck
inner, you know how it is. Ya gotta—Vinnie turned his head and
started talking to Sal and some of the other guys, but Harry couldnt
stop: he soliloquized about the babe who picked him up a few weeks
ago and took him home and she had a new car and the blond and how
many more women who damned near fucked the ass offim, but they
couldnt do that, he could out fuck any woman around and he never did
like queers, everytime he saw one he wanted ta rapim in his mouth and
whenever he throws a fuck inta the old lady she creams all over the
place and Vinnie and the guys got up and walked away and Harry leaned
toward a few of the other guys near by, his voice still working, the
words still spilling, his laugh blurting out occasionally and he
stopped for a second, drank his beer, filled the glass again and
continued talking, lower, walking around telling the guys he could
fixem up anytime they wanted ta get a good piece a tail and a few
nodded, one or two even smiled, and soon Harry was able to stop
talking and he went back to his desk and drank beer, more rapidly,
keeping all the pitchers full, telling the guys ta drinkup, theres
plenty more, the unions gonna keep the beer flowin, hahaha, and he
emptied another glass, refilled it and soon was unable to move
without staggering and he sat at his desk, pushing his chair back and
forth from time to time, spilled a glass of beer on his desk and
laughed as it trickled off the edge, someone yelling that it was a
good strike and a few others yelled, yeah, and Harry laughed his
laugh and pushed the beer off the desk with the palm of his hand and
said theres plenty more and the guys laughed and soon tired of
hanging around with Harry and told him goodbye, we/ll seeya, keep the
beer cold, and Harry asked them not to go, hang around a while. We/ll
getus some pussy later, but the guys said they had business and left.