Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (23 page)

He looked at Alberta again, then got out of bed and
poured himself a drink. Too many things were starting to run through
his mind. He couldnt take the chance of sitting there, sober, and
allowing them to free themselves upon him. He lit a cigarette and
drank the drink as fast as he could, then poured another. He took a
little longer drinking this, then went back to the bedroom and sat on
the edge of the bed with his 3rd drink.

He wanted to wake Alberta up. He didnt want to sit
there alone and vulnerable; he wanted to talk with her, but he didnt
know if he should call her or shake her or perhaps just bounce up and
down on the bed. He took a drink, a drag of his cigarette, then put
the cigarette out, rattling the ashtray on the table. Alberta moved
and Harry quickly moved his head so he wouldnt be looking at her and
yawned loudly. Alberta rolled over and mumbled something and Harry
quickly turned, bouncing the bed as much as possible, whatdidya-say?
Alberta mumbled again and opened her eyes. Harry smiled his smile and
took another drink. Another day had started.

It took Alberta a while to wake up completely, though
she did get out of bed and wash and go about her usual morning
routine, and so it was quite a while before she became conscious of
what Harry was saying and the fact that he was following her around
the apartment. He wasnt hanging over her shoulder, but he was always
within a few feet of her and whenever she turned Harry was there,
smiling his smile. The first word she was aware of, while they drank
coffee, was strike and though she still wasnt awake enough to
understand each word she understood that he was telling her how he
was running a strike, or some such thing, and how he was gonna shove
it up somebodys ass. She hoped that he would either stop or slow down
or that she would get enough energy to say something that would at
least change the subject; but after a few more drinks Harry slowed
down and they enjoyed each others company. They went to a movie in
the afternoon; ate when they came out; then sat for a few hours in a
bar. When they got home Harry made love to Alberta then they sat
drinking and listening to music. Alberta found Harry amusing and
enjoyed being with him, except when he tried to convince her he was a
big shot—though she didnt mind his throwing money on the bar or
taking a cab when they only had a few blocks to go—but when he did
she changed the subject; and, too, she liked the way Harry kissed
her. Not that he kissed any better or was less freaky than the
others, but she could feel his excitement from the newness of the
experience. They sat for hours on the couch, drinking, vaguely aware
of the music from the radio, holding hands and kissing. Alberta
leaned her head on Harrys shoulder, her eyes half closed, humming,
turning from time to time to glance at Harry. Harry smiled his smile
and there was a slight softness about it, and even his eyes had a
slight tenderness in them. He touched her hair lightly and his hand
tightened on her shoulder. They spoke infrequently and when they did
their voices were low, Harrys even losing some of its roughness. They
just sat, cuddled on the couch, for hours, Alberta moving a foot in
time to the music; Harry loving having his arm around her and feeling
her close to him. When Alberta asked Harry if he would like to go to
bed he nodded and they got up and, still holding hands, walked slowly
to the bedroom.

When Harry left Alberta Sunday afternoon he was in a
daze. He hadnt thought of leaving. If she hadnt told him that she had
to see someone that afternoon and that he had better leave he would
have remained unaware of time and the fact that tomorrow was Monday
and there were books to be stamped. He remembered the weekend and
everything that happened, but he couldnt believe it was Sunday. Time
just couldnt have passed that fast. The bouncing of the cab and the
noises of the streets forced reality upon him and he knew he was
going back to Brooklyn. He had wanted to ask her if he could see her
again, but he didnt know how, no words came from his mouth, they
hadnt even completely formed in his mind. He tried hard to think of
how to ask her and to get the question out, but then the door was
closed and he was walking down the street and now he was on his way
to Brooklyn. Who was she going to see? Hed probably see her again in
Marys. Hed be going there again.

He didnt go right home but went to the bar for a few
hours. When he got home Mary was watching t v. He said nothing, but
undressed and went to bed, smoked and thought of Alberta, remembering
many times the last kiss in the doorway. Before he fell asleep the
baby awoke and started crying and Mary eventually came in and talked
to him and bounced him in the crib. The sound of their voices seemed
to come from a dream and didnt interfere with his thoughts or the
memory of the kiss.

The next morning Harry washed and dressed without
saying a word. Mary watched determined to say something. She was
nervous, but even a slap on the face was better than nothing. As
Harry was about to leave she asked him if he was coming home that
night. Harry shrugged. Where wereya Friday and Satu —Harry swung
his arm in a stiff arc, fist clenched, and hit her in the corner of
her mouth with the back of his fist. He hadnt looked or thought, but
had simply closed his fist and swung. He paid no attention to the
biting sensation he felt as his hand hit her teeth nor later did he
think of the fact that it was the first time he had punched
her—thousands of times he had thought of it, dreamed of it, had
tried—or turn to look at her after hitting her. He just swung and
turned and left the house.

He rubbed his hand as he walked. He felt good.
Relieved. It had been a long time since he had had his nightmare. It
was not even a memory.

Harry stamped books with
accuracy, retaining the silent introspective mood he had recently
acquired. The men were quieter and more solemn as they picked up
their signs and had their books stamped, Harrys still quiet mood
allowing them to ignore him, and they walked the picket line in the
same despondent way they did everything else. Most of them had lately
tried to get another job, but because they were on strike it was
impossible to get one, the companies thinking they would leave as
soon as the strike was setded, and so they walked around the plant,
nodded to each other, took out their book, poured a cup of coffee or
a glass of beer, put away their signs, said goodbye and left with the
same air of hopelessness. Since the incident of the trucks the police
guard had been increased and the men rotated so one officer was never
there more than 3 hours a week, the department thinking this would
prevent any personal disputes, caused by the boredom of having to be
there, doing nothing, from erupting into a major incident; and so the
policemen stood their posts, chatted with each other, and watched the
strikers in an officially alert and disinterested manner.

* * *

At the first meeting between the company and the
union after vacations they spoke for a while, said nothing, then
decided to meet again in two days. At that meeting a few of the
problems were discussed before the meeting was adjourned with a
decision to meet in two days. Three, and sometimes four, times a week
they met, put their briefcases on the large conference table, sat
opposite each other, took their papers out of the briefcases and
started talking. Slowly, by almost infinitesimal degrees, they
seriously discussed a few of the issues that were preventing a
settlement of the strike. Summer was almost over. Harrington was
under no pressure to end the strike, having convinced the other
officers of the corporation and negotiating committee that the
company could afford to allow the strike to continue for many more
months without an appreciable loss in net income, and he did not
think there was enough pressure on the union to attempt to dispose of
Harry, and he was determined not to agree to any settlement until he
had tried everything possible to rid himself of Harry Black.

The union would have liked to have the strike settled
as soon as possible, but only on their terms: They had to have
complete control of the Welfare Plan. Though the strike had been in
effect for many months the union officials felt no pressure on them.
Everything was going smoothly and though their personal incomes had
been cut because there had been no contributions to the Welfare Plan
since the strike had started, there were ample funds coming in from
other unions throughout the country to take the extra money they
needed from these contributions. And the men were getting their bag
of groceries each week. Some of them might be getting a little short
of money, which was unfortunate, but the strike would continue, for
months if necessary, until it was agreed that they would retain
control of the Welfare Plan. And so no urgency was felt by either
side.

The President, or another
member of the committee, gave a short speech each Saturday before the
food was distributed. They assured the men they were doing everything
they could to settle the strike—they knew the men wanted to get
back to work; that they couldnt afford to stay out of work for ever;
that their bank accounts were running low; and that, in many cases,
their wives had to go to work—but, they also told them, they knew
the men wouldnt settle for anything less than a decent contract with
a decent wage and that they were going to see that the men got that.
They werent going to sign any sweetheart contract and let the company
continue to take the bread out of their mouths . . . and the clique
whistled and yelled and a few of the others joined in and the orator
descended from the platform and mingled with the men, slapping them
on the back, encouraging them, and nodding to each one as he accepted
his bag of groceries.

* * *

Harry went to Marys every weekend and, after the
first few weeks, during the week occasionally. The first time he went
there after meeting Alberta she introduced him to some of her friends
and during the months that followed Harry met some lovely young boys
at Marys and the parties he went to with them. When he went to Marys
he no longer slid to a place at the bar near the door, but walked
around looking to see who was there, nodding and sitting at tables,
wondering who was standing at the bar envying him as he put his arm
around a young shoulder. Most of the fairies he met liked him—he
was a good fuck and he spent money— but didnt like to be with him
too long too often. It wasnt just his talking about the strike that
caused them to shy away, though he was a boor, but a strangeness and
a feeling of uncertainty that eventually made them uncomfortable.
They had all seen, kissed, sucked and fucked freaks of all varieties
from men who had spent most of their lives in prisons and could be
satisfied only by a boy, men who were capable of cutting a throat not
only without feeling, but without reason, to men who locked
themselves in the bathroom when their wives went out and dressed in
their wives clothes, occasionally going to a place like Marys when
they had a night out. But these men were completely obvious to the
fairies and they knew just how far they could go in any direction
with them. Harry was different, or at least they felt he was. There
was some little something that they couldnt sense, that they were
uncertain about, that eventually made them nervous. It might simply
be that Harry would like to dress up as a woman and go to a drag
ball, or parade down Broadway; or perhaps some day he would flip and
kill one of them. They didnt know.

As summer passed, and the
pleasant autumn weather followed, Harry joined his new friends when
they went for a drive in the country. They would jam into a car with
a few bottles of gin and benzedrine, turn the radio up and slap the
side of the car in rhythm to a jazz or blues song and sing along with
it, snapping their fingers, wiggling in their seats—O honey, what I
couldnt do to this number—passing the bottle back and forth—taking
an occasional bennie— flirting with men in other cars; or, if in
the mood, they would listen to an Italian opera, sighing rapturously
after each aria; telling anecdotes about the gorgeous tenor or the
temperamental diva, their heads moving gently with the music; taking
small sips from the bottle; squealing and pointing at trees whose
leaves reminded them of a Renoir and they jumped in their seats to
see a new combination of colors, each one, almost by turn, pointing
to a grove that was thrilling with reds, browns, orange or gold and
at ones where all the colors blended and the leaves seemed to toy
with the sunlight their colors were so brilliant; and in between were
the greens of pines and blues of spruces and a few times they stopped
by a lake or pond and giggled as they scampered around picking up
acorns or chestnuts and took off their shoes and splashed their feet
in the water and giggled as they watched squirrels peek at them for a
moment before dashing away; and they would sit by the water or under
a tree and sip the gin, take more bennie, then fill the car trunk
with leaves, keeping some out to hold on their laps, to look at, to
smell, to rub with a handkerchief, continually talking of how
beautiful it was . . . and Harry sat in the back, saying little, not
minding the music or their screeching over a bunch of leaves, not
noticing much of anything, but happy to be with them.

* * *

Walking the picket line was less tiring now that the
cooler weather had arrived. When the men finished their time on the
line and handed their signs to their relief, or put them away at
night, they werent sweaty or fatigued as they had been during the
summer, yet they still started and ended each day a little more
despondent than the day before. Though a few, while not on the picket
line, sat around the office drinking beer, most of them sat or stood
in small groups talking. The two kegs of beer that used to be ordered
each day now lasted 3 or 4 days—Harry adding the extra money that
had been spent on beer to his expense sheet—and were drunk mostly
by Harry and the guys from the Greeks. And, as it got darker earlier
each day, more of the men left after their tour of duty and went home
to watch t v or cook supper and wait for the wife to come home from
work; and some went to a bar, going home late to avoid the argument
about who was going to cook and clean now that the wife was working.