A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) (14 page)

P
APA
came in for breakfast just as we were beginning to eat. I looked up at him. There were lines on his face that hadn’t come from weariness alone. Lines of pain and discouragement that came from eating humble pie were etched sharply into his once round cheeks.

A twinge of sympathy for him ran through me. The fierce pride I had in my being was hurt by the slow disintegration. I stood up. “Here, Papa,” I said quickly. “Sit here by the window.” It was the comfortable place in the kitchen.

Slowly he slumped into the chair. He looked over at me gratefully. “Thanks for bringing me over my supper, Danny,” he said wearily. “I was busy and I didn’t see you come in.”

I nodded my head. “The clerk told me,” I said, sparing his feelings. I knew he wouldn’t want me to admit I had heard Gold hollering at him.

Mamma came over to the table and put a bowl of cereal in front of him. “Why didn’t you sleep later, Harry?” she asked concernedly.

He looked up at her. “Who can sleep when the daylight comes? I can’t get used to it.”

“You should rest, though,” Mamma said. “You work hard.”

He picked up the spoon and began to eat without answering, but he had no appetite and soon he pushed the plate away from him. “Just give me coffee, Mary,” he said in a tired voice.

Mamma put a cup of coffee in front of him. “Were you busy yesterday?” she asked.

“Mr. Gold kept me busy,” he said without looking up. Then he looked at me, realizing what he had said. I could see he was wondering what I knew.

I kept my face impassive. As far as he was concerned, I knew
nothing, had seen nothing, and had heard nothing. “What kind of a guy is this Gold like?” I asked, looking down at my plate.

I could feel Papa’s gaze on me. “Why do you ask?”

I didn’t look up. “Just curious, I guess,” I answered. I couldn’t tell him the real reason.

Papa thought for a moment. When he spoke, his words were very carefully chosen. He surprised me with his understatement. “He’s all right, only very nervous. Got a lot of things to do, a lot of things on his mind.”

I put another spoonful of cereal in my mouth. “Yuh like workin’ for him, Papa?” I asked as casually as I could manage.

Our eyes met and his fell to his coffee cup. “It’s a job,” he answered evasively.

“How come he’s manager?” I asked.

“The man before him got sick and had to quit. He had my job as the only other registered man, so naturally he was promoted.”

I looked at him interestedly. That was an angle. “If he quit, would you get the job, Pop?”

Papa laughed self-consciously. “I don’t know, but I guess I might. The supervisor likes me.”

“Who’s that?”

“He’s the boss of a group of stores. He comes from the main office.”

“He’s boss over Mr. Gold too?” I continued.

Papa nodded. “Over everybody.” He looked at me with a curious smile. “So many questions, Danny,” he chided. “You thinking of going to work in a drugstore for the summer?”

“Maybe,” I said evasively.

“You’re not going to work for Mr. Gottkin in the country?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I haven’t heard from him yet.” I was disappointed about that too. I had expected that Sam would drop me a line by now, but I guess that business last year with Miss Schindler had burned him more than he let me know.

“Why don’t you write him?” Mamma asked.

I turned to her. “Where? I don’t even know where he is. He’s always travelling. For all I know, he may have given up the business entirely.” I couldn’t tell them the reason why I wouldn’t write him.

Just then Mimi came rushing in. “I’ve just got time for coffee, Mamma,” she said. “I’ll be late for work.”

Mamma shook her head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you, staying up so late you can’t get up in the morning.”

“I do,” I said, grinning, remembering last night. “Mimi’s got a feller.”

Papa looked at her with interest. “A nice boy, Miriam?” he asked.

I answered before she had a chance. “A jerk from her office,” I said.

She turned on me furiously. “Keep your mouth shut!” she snapped. “At least he’s got more sense than to hang around a candy store all day and night like you do. He’s going to make something out of himself, not be a street-corner bum.”

Mamma put out a placating hand. “Don’t say things like that to your brother. It’s not nice.”

Mimi turned angrily to her. “Why not?” She was almost shouting. “Who does he think he is that everybody has to be afraid of him? Ever since we moved here, it’s been Danny this and Danny that. When he changed school it was terrible, but I changed school in the last term and nobody said anything. Does he try to get a job after school or do some work? He knows how bad we need money but he doesn’t lift a finger to help and nobody says nothing to him. Everybody’s afraid to hurt his feelings. All he does is hang out in a candy store all day and night with a bunch of bums and comes home to eat and sleep like a king. He’s a bum, nothing but a bum, and it’s about time somebody told it to him!”

“Mimi, shut up!” Papa was on his feet, his face pale. He looked at me guiltily.

She was staring at him, her eyes filled with angry tears; then she turned toward me. I stared at her coldly. For a moment she looked at me, then turned and ran, crying, from the kitchen.

Papa sat down heavily and looked at me. Mamma was watching me too. They were waiting for me to speak, but I had nothing to say. At last Papa spoke in a heavy voice. “Altogether wrong she’s not, Danny,” he said gently.

I didn’t answer. My lips were grimly shut.

“Those fellers down at the candy store, they’re no good,” he continued.

I pushed my plate away from me and stood up. “I didn’t pick this neighbourhood. It wasn’t my fault we moved down here. What d’ya want me to do, become a hermit because Mimi doesn’t approve of my friends?”

Papa shook his head. “No, but other friends you can’t find?”

I stared at him. It was no use. He would never understand. There was nothing to say. The estrangement I had felt between us the first day we moved down here grew stronger. And it was too late to go back. “There are no other friends to find,” I said flatly.

“Then there’s something you can do‚” he persisted. “There must be.”

I shook my head with finality. “It’s not anything I can do, Papa,” I told him coldly. “Only you can do it.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

Mamma came toward me. “Yes, what’s that?” she echoed.

“Get back my house,” I said slowly. “You lost it. You get it back. Then maybe we can start all over.”

I watched the pain grow and grow in their eyes until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Then I walked out of the apartment.

She spotted me instantly, almost as soon as I came through the door. I sauntered down the counter to where she stood. I could see her look hurriedly in the mirror behind her and pat her hair. I climbed up on a stool and she turned around smiling.

“Hello, Danny,” she whispered shyly. I could see a blush running up her neck into her face.

I smiled back at her. She was a nice kid. “Hi, Nellie,” I whispered quietly. “Was your father mad?”

She shook her head. “He believed me,” she whispered. She looked up suddenly. In the mirror I could see the manager walking toward us. “A chocolate soda,” she said quickly in a businesslike tone. “Yes, sir.”

She turned and took a glass from the shelf behind her. I smiled at her in the mirror. The manager passed us without a glance. She sighed in relief and went about making the soda.

She came back down the counter and placed the soda in front of me. “Your hair is so blond it’s almost white,” she whispered. “I dreamed about you last night.”

I looked at her quizzically. The kid had it bad. But I felt flattered. “A good dream?” I asked, slipping the straws into the soda.

She nodded, excitement lurking in her eyes. “Did you think about me?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“I want you to think about me,” she said quickly.

I stared at her. Her face was warm and attractive. She had less make-up on today than yesterday. Today she looked younger. She began to blush under my gaze.

“Will you meet me tonight?” she asked eagerly.

I nodded. “Same place.”

I could see the manager coming back toward us again. “That will be ten cents, please,” she said in her business voice.

My dime rang on the counter and she picked it up. She pressed down the register keys and the bell rang as the drawer opened. She dropped in the dime and closed it. The manager had gone again. She came back to me. “Nine o’clock‚” she whispered.

I nodded my head again and she turned away in answer to another customer. I finished my soda quickly and left the store.

The three of us walked down Delancey Street. Solly slouched along listening to Spit and me.

I pulled them to a stop in front of the drugstore. “This is the place,” I said.

Spit’s voice was surprised. “This is the joint where your old man works,” he said.

It was my turn to be surprised. I didn’t think he knew. But I should have known better, there were no secrets down here. “So?” I asked belligerently.

“What if he gets wise?” Spit asked excitedly.

“What’s he got to get wise to?” I retorted. “They’ll never think of me.”

“But this is the McCoy,” Spit said. “If the cops getcha, yuh go into the can an’ they throw away the key.”

“Yuh like workin’ the five-and-dime for peanuts,” I asked
sarcastically
, “or yuh lookin’ for some real dough?”

Solly finally spoke. “Danny’s right. To hell with the cheap seats. This looks okay to me.”

I gave him a grateful glance. We walked on to the corner before we stopped again. There I turned to face Spit. “Quit stalling around. Yuh in or out?” I asked flatly.

Spit looked from one to the other. We watched him steadily. His face flushed. “Okay,” he said quickly. “I’m in.”

I could feel my face relax into a smile. I slapped Spit on the shoulder heartily. “Good boy,” I said softly. “I knew I could count on yuh. Now listen again, this is the way we’ll work it.”

We stood on the corner and figured the job. Around us swirled the hungry lower East Side. A cop stood a few feet away, but he paid no attention to us. Nor us to him. He had no reason to bother us. Kids always stood on street corners down here and always would. He couldn’t go around chasing all of them. If he did, he wouldn’t have time to do anything else.

I
T
was drizzling and we huddled together in the doorway across the street from Nellie’s house. Somehow we began to think of it as if we owned it, and whenever someone else came near it we would resent them as if they were trespassers. Her voice seemed to float in the night. “Next week will be June, Danny.”

I nodded my head and looked down at her. “Yeah,” I said.

Her eyes were almost shy as she looked up at me. “I know you almost three weeks now, but it seems like I knew you all my life.”

I smiled at her. I felt the same way. I felt good when she was around. It was like being home again. “Like me, Nellie?” I fished.

Her eyes were shining now. “Like you?” she whispered softly. “I’m crazy about you. I love you, Danny. I love you so much I’m afraid.”

I pressed my lips to her. “I love you too,” I whispered back.

She gave a soft cry deep in her throat and her arms pulled me close to her. “Oh, Danny,” she cried, “I wish we were old enough to get married!”

I couldn’t help it, at first it seemed so funny. My lips began to twitch with a smile.

She pulled her face away from me. “You’re laughing at me!”

I shook my head, smothering the smile. “I’m not. Really. I was just thinking what your old man would say if he knew.”

She pulled my face down to her again. “Who gives a damn what he would say, once we got married!” she whispered wildly.

I kissed her again and held her tight. I could feel her shiver in my grasp.

“Hold me, Danny,” she cried breathlessly. “Hold me. I love you to hold me. I love the feel of your hands on me. I don’t care if they say it is a sin!”

I looked at her in surprise. “A sin?” I questioned. “Who says so?”

Her hands held mine as her wide dark eyes looked up at me. “I really don’t care, Danny,” she said earnestly. “Even if Father Kelly says so. I’ll do whatever penance I have to just so long as you don’t stop loving me.”

I was puzzled. “What’s Father Kelly got to do with it?” It was the first time I had thought about the difference in our religions.

She looked at me trustingly. “I’m not supposed to say it, but each week after confession he gives me a lecture about you.”

“You tell him about us?” I asked curiously. “What does he say?”

She rested her head against my shoulder. “He says that it’s wrong and I should stop,” she answered in a low voice, “and that it’s even worse with you.”

“Why with me?” I asked, beginning to get a little angry.

“Because you’re not even Catholic. He says we’ll never be able to get married. No church would accept us. He says I shouldn’t bother with you, that I should find some nice Catholic boy.”

“The bastard!” I said bitterly. I looked across the street toward her house. What difference did it make to him what she did? I looked back at her. “What if he tells your father?” I asked.

She looked surprised. “He would never do that! A priest would never tell. What you tell him is for God’s ears alone. I thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t know,” I admitted. I was still curious about her
relationship
with the priest. “What does he make you do when you tell him about us?”

“I have to say prayers and do penance before the Virgin Mother. After that I’m all right.”

“He doesn’t punish you?” I asked.

She seemed bewildered. “You don’t understand, Danny,” she replied. “He just tries to make you realize that you’ve done wrong and feel sorry for it. When you feel sorry for it, then you’re punished enough.”

I began to smile. This was nothing. “Are you sorry?” I asked.

She looked up at me guiltily. “No, I’m not sorry,” she said in a wondering voice. “Maybe that’s what seems so wrong about the whole thing. I guess I’ll never be forgiven.”

I pulled her to me, laughing. “Don’t worry about it then, baby,” I reassured her. “Nothing can be wrong as long as we love each other.” I was just about to kiss her when I heard footsteps coming toward us in the street. We separated hastily. A man walked by without a
sideward
glance.

I looked at my watch. “It’s after eleven! You better get goin’ or your old man will raise the roof!”

She smiled at me. “I don’t want to go, Danny. I want to stay here with you for ever!”

I grinned back at her. I didn’t want her to go either, but tonight I had something else to do. We had finally decided that tonight we’d pull the job. Spit and Solly would be waiting for me at the store at
half-past eleven. “Go on,” I said with a forced lightness. “I got to get home even if you don’t.”

She leaned toward me. “All right, Danny.” She kissed me. “
Tomorrow
night?”

I grinned at her. “Tomorrow night.”

She walked across the street. I watched her get to her house and stop in the doorway to wave at me. I waved back and she disappeared inside.

I looked at my watch again. I would have to snap it up if I wanted to get there on time. I broke into a half-run and then slowed down. Too many people notice a guy running at this time of night.

Solly was standing on the corner across the street from the store. “Where’s Spit?” I asked, a little out of breath.

Solly gestured with his hand. “Over there.” Spit was standing on the other corner, grinning at me.

Across the street Mr. Gold was standing in the middle of the store talking to Papa. Papa was listening to him with a downcast expression. I turned back to Solly. “I hope the old man don’t go with him tonight or we’ll have to put it off again.”

That was what had held us back so long. Some nights Papa used to walk with Mr. Gold as far as the bank. Twice before we had had to call the job off.

Solly’s eyes were blank. “We’ll see,” he said.

I looked at him. Solly was okay; he didn’t talk very much, but I could depend on him. I turned back to the store and we quietly took up our position.

Mr. Gold was still talking to my father. He seemed generally
disgusted
. Papa stood there patiently listening, an attitude of resignation in the droop of his shoulders. He was getting it, all right. I could tell. My lips tightened bitterly. Mr. Gold wouldn’t feel much like talking after we got through with him tonight.

Solly’s hand touched my arm. “He’s gettin’ ready to go!”

I craned my neck to see what Gold was doing. He had walked away from Papa and was looking in
the register. He pointed at the register, his lips moving rapidly. Slowly Papa walked over and looked in, nodding his head. Gold came out in front of the counter and started for the door, leaving Papa at the register.

I turned quickly to Solly. “Yuh remember what I tol’ yuh, now?” There was just the slightest trace of excitement in my voice.

Solly nodded. “I remember.”

“Okay,” I said hurriedly. “Gimme the sap.” I held out my hand
and Solly swiftly passed it to me. I slipped it into my pocket and started across the street.

“Let’s get goin’, boy,” I said as I picked Spit up on the other corner. We turned up the street, walking in an opposite direction to Gold’s path, reached the next corner, and turned to look back.

Mr. Gold was just turning up Essex Street. Solly, right behind him, seemed to be coming home from a late movie. I knew that he saw us watching him because he made a tiny gesture with his hand: thumb and index finger circled. Okay.

I sent it back to him and in a moment we were moving quickly up Ludlow Street, which runs parallel to Essex. We were walking rapidly, our breath coming hard with excitement.

I looked at Spit. “Got everything straight?”

“Yeah, Danny. I got it.” Spit’s face was wet down to his chin. He wiped it on his sleeve as we continued to hurry along.

We covered three blocks before we came to the open lot just before Houston Street. I looked at Spit. This was it. I was beginning to feel frightened. Vaguely I wished I had never started this thing. Then I remembered how Mr. Gold had spoken to my father.

“This is for me,” I said. My voice seemed to ring loudly in my ears.

Spit grinned. “Good luck.”

I gave Spit a shove with my hand and tried to smile. I don’t know how it came off, but he turned and continued on toward the corner. I watched him fade around it, then ducked into the shadows of the lot.

I was standing in the dark, my back against a building. My heart was beating loudly. I held my breath trying to quiet its noise. That only seemed to make it worse. I reached into my pocket, took out the sap, and slapped it softly in my hand to get the feel of it. It made a shallow dull thump. My hands felt wet and I wiped them on my trousers to dry them.

I was beginning to worry. What if something went wrong? Why weren’t they there? I wished I dared to stick my head out from beside the building to see if they were coming, but I couldn’t take any chances. I drew a deep breath. Stop worrying, I told myself angrily. Nothing could go wrong. I had the whole thing too well worked out.

It was simple. Too easy to go wrong. Solly would be walking up the street behind Mr. Gold. He could see anyone coming toward them. Spit would be walking down the street, facing them. He would be able to see anyone coming up behind them. If there was the slightest chance of anyone spotting us, they would start whistling and I would let Mr. Gold walk by. It was that simple. Nothing could go wrong. I leaned back against the building, watching the far corner for the first sign from Spit that was to tip me off that they were coming.

The seconds seemed to drag by. I was beginning to get nervous again. I wished I could light a cigarette. I strained my eyes through the dark. There were footsteps coming down the sidewalk toward me.

It was Spit, shuffling along in that funny walk he had. Suddenly my nervousness was gone and calm settled down over me. There was no backing out now. I let the sap hang loosely in my hand and waited, poised on the balls of my feet, ready to move at the signal.

I began to count slowly to myself, like I was trying to set up a rhythm for the punching bag. “One—two—three—four—one—two——”

Spit lifted his hand to his cheek. I began to move swiftly toward the edge of the building. Mr. Gold came into view just across the building line and I slipped out silently behind him.

In the dark the, falling sap was a swift blur. There was a dull,
sickening
sound and then Solly caught the falling man and was hauling him into the shadows of the lot.

Mr. Gold lay silently on the ground and we looked down at him. Spit’s voice was frightened; his words made a fine spray over my face. “Maybe yuh croaked him!”

I could feel my heart leap in sudden fright. I dropped to one knee and slipped a hand inside Mr. Gold’s vest. With a sense of relief I felt his heart beating. I took my hand from beneath his vest and ran my fingers lightly over his head. No dent, no blood. I was in luck. No concussion or broken head.

Solly’s voice snapped from over my head. “Quit the muckin’ about!” he said flatly. “Get the dough. We ain’t got all night!”

He was right. I ran my fingers through his pockets quickly and found the money pouch just as Spit dropped to one knee beside me, fumbling with Mr. Gold’s wrist.

“What’re yuh doin’?” I barked.

“Grabbin’ his watch. It’s a beaut!”

I slapped his hand away. I was myself again. I could think now that I was no longer afraid. “Jerk! Leave it! Yuh want the cops should finger you the first time yuh show with it?”

Spit got to his feet grumbling. Again I slipped my hand inside Gold’s vest. His heart was beating stronger now. I withdrew my hand and started to my feet. “Okay,” I whispered, “let’s blow!”

Before I could start moving, a hand suddenly gripped at my ankle. Mr. Gold’s voice rang out like a clarion in the quiet lot. “Help! Police!”

Spit and Solly started running. I looked down wildly. Mr. Gold was holding my ankle with both hands, yelling at the top of his lungs. his eyes tightly shut.

I looked around frantically. Spit and Solly were almost out of sight across Essex Street. My heart was really banging now. I tried to move, but couldn’t. Fear had paralysed my legs. I looked across the empty lot. Someone had come out of Katz’s delicatessen and was running toward us.

I had to get out. I kicked violently at Gold’s hand and felt the toe of my shoe strike his arm. Something seemed to snap under my foot; he groaned, then screamed in pain and I was free and running.

The street behind me was suddenly alive with noise, but by that time I was around the corner on Stanton Street. An instinct made me stop running and I stood on the corner, hesitating a second. Quickly I made up my mind. I had to find out whether he had seen me. I cut back up the block. There was a crowd around him now.

I pushed my way through them. The cops were there already, yelling for everybody to stand back. Mr. Gold was sitting up on the ground, holding his arm and rocking to and fro in pain.

“What happened?” I asked one of the spectators.

The man answered without turning his head. He was too busy watching Mr. Gold. “That guy there got mugged.”

I pushed my way closer to Mr. Gold. A cop was kneeling beside him. I could see his lips move, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I was almost on top of them now and I could hear Mr. Gold’s voice. His words banished my fear.

“How could I see who it was?” Mr. Gold was yelling, his voice shrill with pain. “I was unconscious, I told you.” He moaned again. “Oy, get me a doctor. The swine broke my arm!”

The crowd began to disperse and I went with them and headed for home. I slipped into the house quietly and it wasn’t until I took my trousers off that I remembered I still had the money pouch with me.

I ducked into the bathroom and locked the door. Then I opened the pouch by cutting through it with my penknife and counted the dough. A fortune! One hundred and thirty-five bucks!

I shoved the money into my pocket and looked around the room. I had to get rid of the pouch. There was a small window over the toilet that opened on an airshaft that was never cleaned. I climbed up on the toilet seat and dropped the pouch out of the window. I heard it clink against the sides of the building as it went down, and I went back to my room and got into bed.