The ape reached out and gave her hand a quick shake. By this time there was another little girl ready and then two boys. The line re-formed and began to move up.
The gorilla kept his hand extended and turned his head away with a bored look at the rain. Enoch had got over his fear and was trying frantically to think of an obscene remark that would be suitable to insult him with. Usually he didn’t have any trouble with this kind of composition but nothing came to him now. His brain, both parts, was completely empty. He couldn’t think even of the insulting phrases he used every day.
There were only two children in front of him by now. The first one shook hands and stepped aside. Enoch’s heart was beating violently. The child in front of him finished and stepped aside and left him facing the ape, who took his hand with an automatic motion.
It was the first hand that had been extended to Enoch since he had come to the city. It was warm and soft.
For a second he only stood there, clasping it. Then he began to stammer. “My name is Enoch Emery/’ he mumbled. “I attended the Rodemill Boys’ Bible Academy. I work at the city zoo. I seen two of your pictures. I’m only eighteen year old but I already work for the city. My daddy made me com…” and his voice cracked.
The star leaned slightly forward and a change came in his eyes: an ugly pair of human ones moved closer and squinted at Enoch from behind the celluloid pair. “You go to hell/’ a surly voice inside the ape-suit said, low but distinctly, and the hand was jerked away.
Enoch’s humiliation was so sharp and painful that he turned around three times before he realized which direction he wanted to go in. Then he ran off into the rain as fast as he could.
By the time he reached Sabbath Hawks’s house, he was soaked through and so was his bundle. He held it in a fierce grip but all he wanted was to get rid of it and never see it again. Haze’s landlady was out on the porch, looking distrustfully into the storm. He found out from her where Haze’s room was and went up to it. The door was ajar and he stuck his head in the crack. Haze was lying on his cot, with a washrag over his eyes; the exposed part of his face was ashen and set in a grimace, as if he were in some permanent pain. Sabbath Hawks was sitting at the table by the window, studying herself in a pocket mirror. Enoch scratched on the wall and she looked up. She put the mirror down and tiptoed out into the hall and shut the door behind her.
“My man is sick today and sleeping,” she said, “because he didn’t sleep none last night. What you want?”
“This is for him, it ain’t for you,” Enoch said, handing her the wet bundle. “A friend of his give it to me to give to him. I don’t know what’s in it.”
“I’ll take care of it,” she said. “You needn’t to worry none.”
Enoch had an urgent need to insult somebody immediately; it was the only thing that could give his feelings even a temporary relief. “I never known he would have nothing to do with you,” he remarked, giving her one of his special looks.
“He couldn’t leave off following me,” she said. “Sometimes it’s thataway with them. You don’t know what’s in this package?”
“Lay-overs to catch meddlers,” he said. “You just give it to him and he’ll know what it is and you can tell him I’m glad to get shut of it.” He started down the stairs and halfway he turned and gave her another special look. “I see why he has to put theter washrag over his eyes,” he said.
“You keep your beeswax in your ears,” she said. “Nobody asked you.” When she heard the front door slam behind him, she turned the bundle over and began to examine it. There was no telling from the outside what was in it; it was too hard to be clothes and too soft to be a machine. She tore a hole in the paper at one end and saw what looked like five dried peas in a row but the hall was too dark for her to see clearly what they were. She decided to take the package to the bathroom, where there was a good light, and open it up before she gave it to Haze. If he was so sick as he said he was, he wouldn’t want to be bothered with any bundle.
Early that morning he had claimed to have a terrible pain in his chest. He had begun to cough during the night —a hard hollow cough that sounded as if he were making it up as he went along. She was certain he was only trying to drive her off by letting her think he had a catching disease.
He’s not really sick, she said to herself going down the hall, he just ain’t used to me yet. She went in and sat down on the edge of a large green claw-footed tub and ripped the string off the package. “But hell get used to me,” she muttered. She pulled off the wet paper and let it fall on the floor; then she sat with a stunned look, staring at what was in her lap.
Two days out of the glass case had not improved the new jesus* condition. One side of his face had been partly mashed in and on the other side, his eyelid had split and a pale dust was seeping out of it. For a while her face had an empty look, as if she didn’t know what she thought about him or didn’t think anything. She might have sat there for ten minutes, without a thought, held by whatever it was that was familiar about him. She had never known anyone who looked like him before, but there was something in him of everyone she had ever known, as if they had all been rolled into one person and killed and shrunk and dried.
She held him up and began to examine him and after a minute her hands grew accustomed to the feel of his skin. Some of his hair had come undone and she brushed it back where it belonged, holding him in the crook of her arm and looking down into his squinched face. His mouth had been knocked a little to one side so that there was just a trace of a grin covering his terrified look. She began to rock him a little in her arm and a slight reflection of the same grin appeared on her own face. “Well I declare/’ she murmured, “you’re right cute, ain’t you?”
His head fitted exactly into the hollow of her shoulder. “Who’s your momma and daddy?” she asked.
An answer came into her mind at once and she let out a short little bark and sat grinning, with a pleased expression in her eyes. “Well, let’s go give him a jolt,” she said after a while.
Haze had already been jolted awake when the front door slammed behind Enoch Emery. He had sat up and seeing she was not in the room, he had jumped up and begun to put on his clothes. He had one thought in mind and it had come to him, like his decision to buy a car, out of his sleep and without any indication of it beforehand: he was going to move immediately to some other city and preach the Church Without Christ where they had never heard of it. He would get another room there and another woman and make a new start with nothing on his mind. The entire possibility of this came from the advantage of having a car—of having something that moved fast, in privacy, to the place you wanted to be. He looked out the window at the Essex. It sat high and square in the pouring rain. He didn’t notice the rain, only the car; if asked he would not have been able to say that it was raining. He was charged with energy and he left the window and finished putting on his clothes. Earlier that morning, when he had waked up for the first time, he had felt as if he were about to be caught by a complete consumption in his chest; it had seemed to be growing hollow all night and yawning underneath him, and he had kept hearing his coughs as if they came from a distance. After a while he had been sucked down into a strengthless sleep, but he
