Haze drew his head down nearer his hunched shoulders and went on quickly. He didn’t look back until he heard other footsteps coming behind him.
“Now that we got shut of them,” Enoch Emery panted, “whyn’t we go somewher and have us some fun?”
“Listen,” Haze said roughly, “I got business of my own. I seen all of you I want.” He began walking very fast.
Enoch kept skipping steps to keep up. “I been here two months,” he said, “and I don’t know nobody. People ain’t friendly here. I got me a room and there ain’t never no-body in it but me. My daddy said I had to come. I wouldn’t never have come but he made me. I think I seen you sommers before. You ain’t from Stockwell, are you?”
“No.”
“Melsy?”
“No.”
“Sawmill set up there oncet,” Enoch said. “Look like you had a kind of familer face.”
They walked on without saying anything until they got on the main street again. It was almost deserted. “Good-by,” Haze said.
“I’m going thisaway too,” Enoch said in a sullen voice. On the left there was a movie house where the electric bill was being changed. “We hadn’t got tied up with them hicks we could have gone to a show/’ he muttered: He strode along at Haze’s elbow, talking in a half mumble, half whine. Once he caught at his sleeve to slow him down and Haze jerked it away. “My daddy made me come/’ he said in a cracked voice. Haze looked at him and saw he was crying, his face seamed and wet and a purple-pink color. “I ain’t but eighteen year old,” he cried, “an* he made me come and I don’t know nobody, nobody here’ll have nothing to do with nobody else. They ain’t friendly. He done gone off with a woman and made me come but she ain’t going to stay for long, he’ll beat hell out of her before she gets herself stuck to a chair. You the first familer face I seen in two months. I seen you sommers before. I know I seen you sommers before.”
Haze looked straight ahead with his face set and Enoch kept up the half mumble, half blubber. They passed a church and a hotel and an antique shop and turned up Mrs. Watts’s street.
“If you want you a woman you don’t have to be follering nothing looked like that kid you give a peeler to,” Enoch said. “I heard about where there’s a house where we could have us some fun. I could pay you back next week.”
“Look,” Haze said, “I’m going where I’m going—two doors from here. I got a woman. I got a woman, see? And that’s where I’m going—to visit her. I don’t need to go with you.”
“I could pay you back next week,” Enoch said. “I work at the city zoo. I guard a gate and I get paid ever’ week.”
“Get away from me,” Haze said.
“People ain’t friendly here. You ain’t from here but you ain’t friendly neither.”
Haze didn’t answer him. He went on with his neck drawn close to his shoulder blades as if he were cold.
“You don’t know nobody neither,” Enoch said. “You ain’t got no woman nor nothing to do. I knew when I first seen you you didn’t have nobody nor nothing but Jesus. I seen you and I knew it.”
“This is where I’m going in at,” Haze said, and he turned up the walk without looking back at Enoch.
Enoch stopped. “Yeah,” he cried, “oh yeah,” and he ran his sleeve under his nose to stop the snivel. “Yeah,” he cried, “go on where you goin’ but lookerhere.” He slapped at his pocket and ran up and caught Haze’s sleeve and rattled the peeler box at him. “She give me this. She give it to me and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. She told me where they lived and ast me to visit them and bring you—not you bring me, me bring you—and it was you follerin’ them.” His eyes glinted through his tears and his face stretched in an evil crooked grin. “You act like you think you got wiser blood than anybody else,” he said, “but you ain’t! I’m the one has it. Not you. Me”
Haze didn’t say anything. He stood there for an instant, small in the middle of the steps, and then he raised his arm and hurled the stack of tracts he had been carrying. It hit Enoch in the chest and knocked his mouth open. He stood looking, with his mouth hanging open, at where it had hit his front, and then he turned and tore off down the street; and Haze went into the house.
Since the night before was the first time he had slept with any woman, he had not been very successful with Mrs. Watts. When he finished, he was like something washed ashore on her, and she had made obscene comments about him, which he remembered off and on during the day. He was uneasy in the thought of going to her again. He didn’t know what she would say when he opened the door and she saw him there.
When he opened the door and she saw him theret she said, “Ha ha.”
The black hat sat on his head squarely. He came in with it on and when it knocked the electric light bulb that hung down from the middle of the ceiling, he took it off. Mrs. Watts was in bed, applying a grease to her face. She rested her chin on her hand and watched him. He began to move around the room, examining this and that. His throat got dryer and his heart began to grip him like a little ape clutching the bars of its cage. He sat down on the edge of her bed, with his hat in his hand.
Mrs. Watts’s grin was as curved and sharp as the blade of a sickle. It was plain that she was so well-adjusted that she didn’t have to think any more. Her eyes took everything in whole, like quicksand. “That Jesus-seeing hat!” she said. She sat up and pulled her nightgown from under her and took it off. She reached for his hat and put it on her head and sat with her hands on her hips, walling her eyes in a comical way. Haze stared for a minute, then he made three quick noises that were laughs. He jumped for the electric light cord and took off his clothes in the dark.
Once when he was small, his father took him to a carnival that stopped in Melsy. There was one tent that cost more money a little off to one side. A dried-up man with a horn voice was barking it. He didn’t say what was inside. He said it was so SINsational that it would cost any man that wanted to see it thirty-five cents, and it was so Exclusive, only fifteen could get in at a time. His father sent him to a tent where two monkeys danced, and then he made for it, moving close to the walls of things like he moved. Haze left the monkeys and followed him, but he didn’t have thirty-five cents. He asked the barker what was inside.
“Beat it,” the man said. “There ain’t no pop and there ain’t no monkeys.”
