Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (26 page)

He stood by the door for a moment looking around then
walked to the back and sat at a table. The others at the table spoke
to him occasionally but Harry just nodded or grunted. He ordered a
drink and when the others asked if he wasnt going to buy them one he
told them he didnt have much money. They kidded him, but when they
realized he was serious they ignored him and Harry sat nursing his
drink and watching the door. Harry still had a few drops of melted
ice in his glass when Regina finally arrived. She sat and dished with
the girls for a few minutes then asked Harry if he was going to take
her to Stewarts. Harry mumbled and stuttered and Regina jerked her
head around and disdainfully told him to forget about it. She would
get someone else to escort her. Why dontya have a drink and we could
talk, caressing his glass with his finger tips and hunching over the
table. Theres a empty booth in the back. We could be alone and talk.
And just what would we discuss? High finance? sneering at Harry then
looking at the other girls who giggled. Comeon Regina. 0 really,
getting up with many shrugs of her shoulders and going to the phone
booth. When she came back she looked down at Harry, you still here?
How long are you going to sit there jerking that glass off? You know
its really a terrible habit. Harry looked up at her then lowered his
head, his hand tightening around the glass. Harry stayed at the table
glancing at Regina from time to time, but Regina and the others
ignored him completely and continued to talk among themselves until
Regina stood up, adjusted her clothing, my date just arrived. I am
sure you girls will excuse me, and walked to the bar. The fairies
laughed and Harry stared at Regina until she left with her date.
Harry looked at his empty glass for many minutes then left and rode
the subway back to Brooklyn. It had been a long time since Harry had
ridden the subway and it seemed to be exceptionally cold and stuffy
and every turn and bump seemed to be directed against his comfort and
he had to fight to keep himself on the seat and not be tossed up
against the roof or thrown on the floor or against the opposite side.
When he got out of the subway he took a cab the 2 blocks to the bar
next to the strike office then regretted it when he paid the driver,
debating whether or not to tip him, finally giving him a nickel. He
sat at the bar and brooded for an hour over the 35cents he spent for
the cab. Whatever it was that had happened happened too suddenly. He
just couldnt figure it out. But things seemed to be all loused up
again. He could have taken Regina to Stewarts. He still had a little
money. They could have had a good time. He looked in his wallet. A
couple of bucks. Fuckit. An hour later he called Regina. The phone
rang and rang and he finally hung up and went back to the bar. An
hour or so later he called again. Hello. Regina? Harry. Can I seeya
tomorra night we could go ta Stewarts if yalike or som—O really
Harry—we could go anywhere youd wanna I—O dont bother me. I am
very busy. She hung up and Harry stared at the mouthpiece. Regina?
Regina?

He let the phone drop from
his hand and left the bar and staggered home. Mary was in bed and he
stood over her. Slowly he started leaning toward the bed. The covers
were held tightly around her neck with a hand. Her hair was spread
over the pillow. Ya ballbreakin cunt. Ya hearme? Youre a ballbreakin
cunt ya no good sonofabitch— Mary stirred then rolled over on her
back and opened her eyes—Yeah, you bitch, grabbing an arm, twisting
it and yanking her up to a sitting position, ya fuckin cunt. Whats
the matta with you? ya gone crazy or somethin? trying to pull her arm
lose. Yeah, Im crazy, crazy fa lettin ya break my fuckin balls—the
baby rolled over and started whimpering then crying. Ya better let me
go or I/ll killya. Ya aint pushin me around ya drunken slob. Drunken
slob, eh? I/U showya. I/U showya, twisting harder and slapping her
face. Drunkin slob, eh? howya like that, eh? howya likeit, twisting
and shaking, slapping her face. YA FILTY BAS-TAD. I'LL KILLYA. YA
CANT SLAP ME AROUND LIKE THAT, scratching his hand. YA LOUSY CUNT, IF
IT WASNT FOR YOU ITD BE DIFFERENT. ITS ALL YA-FAULT—Mary bit his
hand and he let go of her arm shaking his hand and still yelling—the
baby banged against the side of the crib still crying. Harry went out
to the bathroom and Mary sat in bed yelling after him and cursing him
then lay down and covered her head with the pillow to drown out the
noise of the kid crying. Harry let water run on his hand then sat at
the kitchen table, rested his head on his arms and, still muttering,
soon fell asleep. After a while the baby started to fall into an
exhausted sleep, still whimpering.

* * *

The men felt strange and uneasy the first day back on
the job. They had been on strike so long they almost got lost trying
to find their machines. The first day of the strike was a warm spring
day and the men had joked, cleaned their cars, drunk beer .. . now
there was snow on the ground and it was a new year. It had been
months since they were even capable of hoping. The executives and
foremen were rushing about distributing jobs, getting them set up,
getting the proper tools and supplies to the right places; and the
men stood by their machines, waiting until they had everything
necessary to start a job, then worked without enthusiasm, stopping
occasionally as the reality of being back on the job startled them.

Harry fumbled around his machine doing little,
looking around at the men rushing from one bench to another, one
floor to another, watching Wilson, thinking of Harrington, hearing
the noise of the machinery, the piece of stock in his lathe and the
prints on his bench annoying him. The foreman set up the job for
Harry and turned the lathe on. Harry watched the thin spiraling strip
of metal unwind from the stock. He watched the fuckin stock spin and
the shavings twirl. He thought maybe he should take a look around,
make his rounds, but didnt feel like moving. When one cut had been
made on the stock he didnt reset the machine, but just stood there
until the foreman came over, reset it and left. Eventually Harry
left. He didnt turn his machine off or tell anyone he was leaving. He
just turned, took a step, then continued walking.

He sat in the bar all afternoon drinking whisky;
called Regina a few more times, but she either didnt answer or hung
up when she heard his voice. Coulda been uptown.
Ballbreakin-bastards.

He left the bar a little after 8. He leaned against
the wall as he walked, unable to stand, slipping on the icy ground.
He leaned against the window of the empty store that had been used as
the strike office. He lit a few matches trying to see inside, but he
still couldnt see anything. There was nothing to see anyway. He had
already taken the radio home. It was once again an empty store with a
for rent sign on the door.

He walked to the corner, slipping several times,
finally having to crawl to the lamppost to help himself stand. He
clutched the post for a few minutes catching his breath. A kid, about
10 years old, from his block walked over to him and laughed. Youre
drunk Mr. Black. Harry touched him on the head, then stuck his hand
down under the large collar of the kids jacket and rubbed the back of
his neck. It was very warm. Even slightly moist. The kid laughed
again. Hey, your hands cold. Quit it. Harry smiled his smile and
pulled him closer. Where yagoin Joey? Up the corner to see the
fellas. Harrys hand was warm now and Joey stopped squirming. Howya
like a soda. You buyin? Yeah, o k. They started slowly up 57th
street, Harrys hand still on the back of Joeys neck. When they had
walked a few feet Harry stopped. They stood still a second then Harry
started walking into the empty lot. Hey, where yagoin. Over there.
Comeon, I wanna show yasomethin. What yawant ta show me? Comeon. They
crossed the lot and went behind the large advertising sign. Whats
here? Harry leaned against the billboard for a moment then lowered
himself to his knees. Joey watched him, his hands in his jacket
pockets. Harry reached up and opened Joeys fly and pulled out his
cock. Hey, whatta yadoin, trying to back away. Harry clutched Joey by
the legs and put Joeys small warm cock in his mouth, his head being
tossed from side to side by Joeys attempts to free himself, but he
clung to Joeys legs, keeping his cock in his mouth and muttering
please . . . please. Joey pounded him on the head and tried to kick
him with his knee. LETME GO! LETME GO YA FUCKIN FREAK! Harry felt the
fists on his head, the cold ground under his knees; felt the legs
squirming and his hands starting to cramp from holding them so tight;
and he felt the warm prick in his mouth and the spittle dribbling
down his chin; and Joey continued to scream, squirm and pound his
head until he finally broke loose and ran from the lot, still
screaming, to the Greeks. When Joey broke loose Harry fell on his
face, his eyes swelling and tears starting to ooze out and roll down
his cheeks. He tried to stand but kept falling to his knees then flat
on his face, still muttering please. A minute later Joey, Vinnie and
Sal and the rest of the guys from the Greeks came running down 2nd
avenue to the lot. Harry was almost standing, holding on to the
billboard, when they reached him. THERE HE IS. THERE HEIS. THE
SONOFABITCH TRIED TA SUCK ME OFF. Harry let go of the billboard and
started to extend his arms when Vinnie hit him on the cheek. Ya
fuckin freak. Someone else hit him on the back of the neck and Harry
fell to the ground and they kicked and stomped him, Joey squeezing in
between to kick him too, and Harry barely moved, barely made a sound
beyond a whimpering. A couple of the guys picked him up and stretched
his arms across and around one of the crossbars of the sign and hung
on his arms with all their weight and strength until Harrys arms were
straining at the shoulder sockets, threatening to snap, and they took
turns punching his stomach and chest and face until both eyes were
drowned with blood, then a few of the guys joined the two pulling on
his arms and they all tugged until they heard a snap and then they
twisted his arms behind him almost tying them in a knot and when they
let go he continued to hang from the bar then slowly started to slide
down and to one side until one arm jerked around the bar and flopped
back and forth like a snapped twig held only by a thin piece of bark
and his shoulder jerked up until it was almost on a level with the
top of his head and the guys watched Harry Black as he slowly
descended from the billboard, his arms flapping back and forth until
his jacket got caught on a splinter and the other arm spun around and
he hung, impaled, and they hit and kicked him until the splinter
snapped and Harry descended to the ground.

Harry lay still, sobbing. He cried then screamed a
long loud AAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA that was muffled as
his face fell back into the dirt of the lot.

He tried to raise his head
but could not. He could only turn it slightly so he rested on a
cheek. He was able to open his eyes slightly, but was blinded by the
blood. He yelled again. He heard the sound loud inside his head, GOD
O GOD he yelled but no sound came from his mouth. He heard his voice
loud in his head but only a slight gurgle came from his lips. GOD 
                   
GOD
YOU SUCK COCK

* * *

The moon neither noticed nor ignored Harry as he lay
at the foot of the billboard, but continued on its unalterable
journey. The guys washed up in the Greeks, drying their hands with
toilet paper and tossing the wet wads at each other, laughing. It was
the first real kick since blowing up the trucks. The first good
rumble since they dumped that doggy. They sprawled at the counter and
at the tables and ordered coffeand.
 

Coda

Landsend

How much less in them that dwell in
houses of clay, whose foundation is in
the dust, which are crushed before the
moth?
They are
destroyed from morning to
evening:
they perish for ever without
any
regarding it.
Doth not their
excellency which is in
them go away?
they die, even without
wisdom.
Job 4: 19-21

MIKE KELLY told his wife ta go tahell and rolled
over, covering his head with the blanket. Comeon, gutup. We need milk
and bread. He said nothing. Comeon Mike, I/ll be late for work. Still
silent. Aw please get up Mike, sitting on the edge of the bed and
gently pushing his shoulder. Wont yago to the store while I get
dressed. Comeon. Mike turned over, knocking her hand from his
shoulder, and leaned on his elbow. Look, go tawork and dont bother
me, willya? turning back and falling on the bed, pulling the covers
back over his head. Irene jerked up and noisily walked to the chair,
yanked her clothing off it and started dressing. Youre a bastard
Mike. Yahear me? a bastard, slamming down into the chair and putting
her socks on. Get lost bitch before I break yahead. Irene continued
to mumble as she dressed then stomped off to the bathroom and banged
the door shut. Ya better stop the shit Irene or I/U rapya. She faced
the closed door and stuck her tongue out then turned both water
faucets on quickly, the water splashing out of the basin. She jammed
the stopper into the hole, still cursing Mike (the bastard), wrenched
the faucets closed and threw the face cloth into the sink. She
scrubbed her face, still muttering and Helen, her 3 year old
daughter, knocked on the door. Irene jerked the door open. What do
you want? Helen put her thumb in her mouth and stared at her mother.
Well? Have to go peepee Mommy. Well, go ahead. Helen went to the
bathroom and Irene rinsed then dried her face. Im going to be late. I
just know it. She attacked her hair with a brush and Arthur, almost
18 months old, started crying. O godDAMNit. She threw the hair brush
into the tub (Helens thumb was still in her mouth and she waited
until Irene left the bathroom before sliding off the seat, flushing
the toilet and running into the living room) and raged into the
bedroom. The least yacan do is take care of the baby. Mike jerked up
and shouted for her to get thehellout and leave him alone. Youre his
mother, you take care of him. Irene stamped her foot and her face
flushed. If youd go out and get a job I could take care of him. He
pulled the covers back over his head. Dont bother me. You bastard
you. You—she yanked a jacket off a hanger, Arthur still wailing for
a bottle, Helen sitting in the corner of the living room waiting for
the argument to stop. Irene thrust her arms into the sleeves of the
jacket. Give me some money for breakfast. He threw the covers off and
reached over to his pants and took a dollar out of his wallet. Here.
Now get thehell outtahere and stop breakin my balls. She snatched the
dollar from his hand and stomped out of the apartment, hoping Arthur
would cry louder and make Mike get up, the bastard. Every morning the
same thing. Never gives me a hand. Wont even fix the baby a bottle. I
come home from work and I have to fix supper and I have to wash the
dishes and I have to wash the clothes and 1 have to take care of the
kids!!! O, the dirty bastard!!!— rushing along the street to the
store. She went in, ignoring the clerks good morning Irene, and
picked up a dozen eggs then put them back and took a half dozen as
she needed cigarettes, a quart of milk and 2 rolls. She took the
cigarettes out of the bag and put them in her pocket so she wouldnt
forget them and leave them for Mike (the bastard). When she got back
to the apartment she kicked open the door then slamned it shut.
Arthur was still crying, Helen standing alongside the crib talking to
him, and Mike yelled out ta shut the kid up. Why dontya take care of
the kid before yago to the store, truly and honestly indignant at the
manner in which she neglected the children. If youre so concerned why
dontya get up and take care of him, bastard? He sat up in bed and
turned toward the open door. Youd better watch your mouth or I/ll
shove a fist init, falling back on the bed and covering his head with
the blanket. Irene shook but all she could do was stamp a foot, still
holding the bag of groceries, and OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO . . . Then she
noticed the time and put the bag on the table, put on a pot of water,
ran to the kids room and grabbed Arthurs bottle, filled it with milk,
heated it enough to take the chill off; poured some corn flakes and
milk in a bowl while the bottle was heating, rushed back to the crib
with the bottle, Arthur taking it and stopping his crying (Mike
moaning a thank krist); then Irene called Helen to eat her corn
flakes and made herself a cup of instant coffee, buttered a roll,
dunked it, ate it and rushed to the bedroom. Give me some money. O
for krists sake, you still here? Hurry Mike. I/ll be late. He threw
her half a dollar. Hey, how about the change from the dollar? There
isnt any (at least she got an extra dime and a pack of cigarettes ).
Irene gulped the last of her coffee and rushed out. She ran to the
bus stop hoping she wouldnt have to wait too long and still cursing
Mike, the bastard. If he doesnt clean the house today I/ll quit the
job. Thats what I/ll do. Let him get a job. She saw a bus coming and
ran faster, just getting to the bus stop in time. The bastard.