Seventh Avenue (39 page)

“
Don’t niggerlip it for shit’s sake.”

“
Sorry. Here, I didn’t wet it.”

The view of Brooklyn was
panoramic,
and they could see as far
as King’s Highway, the cars and people like ants under a rock.

“
My father says
Brooklyn’s
the asshole of the world.”

“
Funny thing to say.”

“
He wants me to move out to Great Neck with him and Eva.”

“
Ahhh, Neal, you won’t,
willya
?” Bernie asked him with desperation. “We’re best friends and we’d never see each other.”

“
I tell him I’d like to, so that when I want something he gets it for
me. Can’t do any harm.”

“
But he could tell your mother that you want to
go,
and then you’d
be up shit’s creek.”

“
The judge gave her custody of me . . . my father’s only got
visiting rights, so he can’t have me even if I wanted to go. I just string
him along, like he strings me along. Hey, Kleinhorse’s picking up
her clothespins and going,” Neal said.

“
Should we have some fun?”

“
Like what?”

“
Throw ink on her clothes?”

“
Don’t be a
schmuck!
They’d send the super up to find out who
did it, and the first stop he’d make would be my house.”

“
I hate
him .
. . the Nazi bastard,” Bernie said, spitting at the
skylight.

“
Just ‘cause he’s German doesn’t make him a Nazi.”

“
I hate his guts,” Bernie said bitterly.

“
So, he pushed you once. But he was right, wasn’t he? After
all,
you did stop the elevator between the floors for an hour.”

Bernie screwed up his face and did his imitation of the Hunchback
of Notre Dame - his tongue twisted to the side, his nose tilted up,
the pink of his eye hanging open like a gash.

“
That’s what I’d like to do to him, and if he ever touches me again,
he’ll get his good and proper. I’ll get him fired,” he threatened.

“
What’re you talking about?”

“
I got something on him, don’t you worry!”

“
The truth?”

Bernie nodded.

“
What is it?”

“
I don’t know if I should say.”

“
But we’re best friends. Aw, c’mon, I tell you everything, don’t
be a rat.”

“
Tuesday night I came up to the roof.”

“
Without me!” Neal was incredulous.

“
You were playing basketball at the community center. I brought
my father’s binoculars up with me - the ones he uses when he goes
to the track. And I saw him with Lady Farberman.”

“
You didn’t?”

“
I swear to God I did. I couldn’t believe it, but there he was, giving her the old Roy Rogers treatment. Giddyap,
Trigger .
. . ‘I’m
back in the saddle again,’” Bernie sang in a screeching falsetto.
“What a cock he’s got, long like a torpedo. He ain’t circumcised like
us. None of the Nazis get circumcised. If the owner and the Nazi’s
wife found out about it, plus Lord Farberman, he’d get his balls cut
off.”

“
Why didn’t you tell me?” Neal protested.

“
Aw, I dunno. Gee, Neal, I’m sorry. I was gonna tell you.”

Neal took out his last cigarette, lit it, and passed it to Bernie.

“
We’ll smoke this one together.”

“
Neal, wouldn’t it be great to get laid? Wish we knew somebody.”

“
Moony laid Margie and you know what happened to him. He
got the Crimean
crotch
rot, with scabs on his balls. They had to send
him away to Riker’s Island where the leper colony is. What about
Lady Farberman?”

“
I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. She’s such a dirty pig.
I’ll bet she’s got worms up her from the Nazi.”

Neal shot the cigarette out with his index finger.

“
It’s the asshole of the world, all right.”

“
Would you rather live with your father and Eva?”

“
I couldn’t stand it.”

“
They still fight?”

“
They never stopped. He cuts out when he feels like it, and when
he gets home she screams, and
screams,
and screams, till she’s blue
in the face and her veins and eyeballs are popping out. I hate her
guts. She’s got this daughter about two years older than me, and she
sees her only once a year. That’s the kind of rat she is. I met her
once, the daughter, a skinny,
sad-faced
titless scarecrow with freckles
on her face and hair under her arms. Eva’s very mean, and when my
father and her
make up
, they sit around and drink, or they go out to
bars and drink. And they get drunk and cry and talk in a slurry way
like drunks talk, and then they argue some
more,
and he hits her.
They’re pretty terrible people really.”

“
Yeah, but your father’s swimming in dough.”

“
He can stick his dough up his ass and shit dollar bills. Aw, but
sometimes he’s nice and he tries, he really does try. But I
dunno
.
It all makes me sick. I’d like to join the army and kiss them all goodbye.”

“
Why didn’t your father go in the army?” Bernie asked. “You told
me once but I forgot.”

“
Something wrong with his heart. He didn’t have a heart attack
but when my grandma died, something happened to it and made it
weak. Something like that.”

The clock by the church up the street
tolled
five
o’clock,
and Bernie jumped up anxiously, while Neal sat pensively staring at the
street below.

“
C’mon, you gotta pack.”

“
Yeah, okay.”

“
Aren’t you shitting green?”

“
Why should I?”

“
In case the guy who slept over’s still there.”

Neal climbed down the metal rungs and wiped his hands on the
clean sheets that Mrs. Klein had hung up.

“
What can he do to me?” Neal said. “I’m only twelve years old
and I’m not scared, not
anymore
.”

“
Gee.” Bernie blew his cheeks out and slammed them.

There was
a light
on in the apartment, but Neal thought nothing
of it, as he and Rhoda always left the hall light on in an attempt to
discourage burglars. The radio was on, and he knew that the man
and possibly his mother were there. An announcer was giving the
racing results in a twangy voice, and the man had his ear glued to the
speaker. When he saw Neal and
Bernie,
he turned the radio off and
smiled. They stared at the
man,
for he wore camel-colored jodhpurs, blue suede shoes, a loafer jacket
that
moths had riddled with
their own unique pattern, and a silk undershirt. The jodhpurs and
jacket Neal recognized as ancient and discarded possessions of his
father. Rhoda came out of the kitchen, but they didn’t notice her.

“
You in the right apartment, Mister?” Neal asked.

“
Neal?” the man said, crumpling a sheet of paper with numbers on
it and tossing it into the wastepaper basket. “I’m Sol
Pudnick
.” His
voice had the quality of a toad croak, and Neal was surprised by it.
“Everyone calls me Sports.”

“
Hiya, Sports,” Bernie said. “You come here to listen to the radio?”

“
I was waiting for Neal.
To meet him.”

“
You met me. Now what?”

“
I ought to beat your head in, Neal,” Rhoda said angrily.

“
Mom? You home?”

“
You’re goddamned right I’m home. Now what’d you do with Mr.
Pudnick’s clothes?”

“
Sports, please, Rho,” Sports said, protesting against formality.

“
Where the hell are his clothes?”

“
It was two C’s worth of shantung, not to mention a very special
white-on-white job that come from Madison Avenue at a double
sawbuck.”

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neal said quietly. “I’ve
got to pack, ‘cause Dad’s coming to get me in a
half-hour,
and he hates
to be kept waiting.”

“
Bernie, maybe you’d better go home,” Rhoda said.

“
Sure, Mrs. Blackman.”

“
Bernie stays,” Neal said with authority. “He’s gonna help me
pack. Mom, is this man bothering you? Should I call the cops?”

Rhoda came up to Neal, grasped his collar in her fist, and shook
him. He gave a dull, fish-eyed look expressing total incomprehension.

“
Leave the kid alone, Rho,” Sports said.

“
Sports stayed here last night.”

Bernie edged towards the door anxiously.

“
Did he? Where? I didn’t see him.”

“
In the living room, he slept.”

“
I didn’t go into the living room. I never do, do I? You always tell
me not to.”

“
Then what’d you do this
morning .
. . from the moment you
got up?”

“
I washed, brushed my teeth, got dressed. Went into your room
and kissed you on the cheek like I do every morning.”

“
You’re not gonna hit him, are you, Mrs. Blackman?” Bernie
whined.

“
You never went into the living room?”

Neal
outstared
her, and her first impression of his lying gave way
to doubt.

“
Did you leave the door open when you left?”

“
Don’t think I did.”

“
Could be you did this time,” Sports volunteered. But Neal shook
his head definitely. He didn’t want anyone’s help, least of all the
victim’s, to get him off the hook.

“
I’m sure the door was locked.”

“
Maybe the Nazi stole them,” Bernie said.

“
Who’s the Nazi?” Sports said.

“
The superintendent. No, I don’t think he’d do a thing like that.”

“
Oh, wouldn’t he?” Bernie pressed on.

“
Yeah, I guess the door was open,” Sports said helplessly. “Your
kid wouldn’t steal my clothes, and he didn’t even know I was here.”
He put his arm round Neal. “You can’t win ‘em all, can you? Still
two C’s worth of precious cloth that come by plane from Hong Kong.
Crying shame.”

“
Why did
he”
- Neal
pointed to the gaily attired Sports – “stay here
last night?”

There was an embarrassed silence and some heavy breathing from
Bernie.

“
I’m going now. See you, Neal. See you, everybody: Mrs. Blackman, Sports. See you.”

Rhoda pursed her lips and sucked in her breath. She avoided
Neal’s serious, unrelenting eyes. Whenever she thought she had the
upper hand, he always managed to reverse the situation, put her on
the defensive, and sit in judgment on her without seeming to do so.
He was like a wolf, sly, dangerous, and completely in control, never
yielding, patient, stalking, capitalizing on the slightest mistake she
made. What made it even more frustrating from her point of view
was that Neal never appeared to be wielding
the knife;
he had a way
of forcing her to turn the knife on herself. He was
unattackable,
and
he lived in a fortress
that
by some magic of personality he had rendered impregnable.