moving rhythmically like a machine. He focused on his plate just long enough to load his fork and then turned his head to watch the television screen set high in one corner of the room, as he chewed away. Every now and then, he reached for his glass and took a long draught, his eyes remaining fixed on the screen.
Except for exchanging a remark about the weather with the bartender when he first set his plate before him, Stanley spoke to no one. The program ended, and he drained the remains of his second glass, wiped his mouth with the paper napkin that had lain folded all through supper, and ambled over to the cashier to pay his tab.
He left the tavern with a wave to the bartender, and drove the few blocks to Mama Schofield's. No point in hanging around; there would be nothing doing for another hour or two.
Mrs. Schofield was sitting in her parlor when he stuck his head in to say good evening. Upstairs in his room he took off his shoes, his denim work pants and shirt, and lay down on the bed, his hands clasped under his head, staring up at the ceiling. There were no pictures like those he had on the wall in the temple basement; Mama Schofield would not have stood for them. The only decoration was a calendar showing a picture of a little boy and a puppy that was somehow supposed to induce fond feelings for the Barnard's Crossing Coal Company. Usually he napped for an hour or so, but tonight for some reason he was restless. He realized he was undergoing one of his frequent attacks of loneliness. In his circle of acquaintances, his bachelorhood was regarded as proof that he was too smart to have got himself caught. He wondered uneasily if he hadn't outsmarted himself. What sort of life did he have? Supper, a greasy meal eaten at a counter stool; then back to a furnished room, with the boozy good fellowship of the Ship's Cabin afterward the only thing to look forward to. If he were married now-and his mind slipped into a pleasant daydream of married life. Soon he dozed off.
When he awoke, it was almost ten o'clock. He got up and dressed in his good clothes and drove to the Ship's Cabin. The dream persisted. He drank more than usual in an effort to drown it, but it only bobbed up whenever the talk lagged or the noise momentarily abated.
Toward midnight the crowd began to thin out and Stanley got up to go. The loneliness was stronger than ever. He realized that it was Thursday and there probably would be some girl getting off the last bus at Oak and Vine. Maybe she would be tired and appreciate the offer of a ride the rest of the way home.
Elspeth sat in the back seat of the car. The rain had let up somewhat, but large drops still bounced on the asphalt, turning it into a sleek black pool. She was at ease now, and to prove it she took slow, graceful puffs at her cigarette, like an actress. When she spoke, she stared straight ahead, only occasionally darting quick looks at her companion to see how he was reacting.
He was sitting bolt upright, his eyes wide and unwinking, his jaw set and his lips tight-in anger? in frustration? in despair? She could not tell. She leaned forward to snuff her cigarette in the ashtray attached to the back of the front seat. Very deliberately, as if to emphasize each word, she tapped her cigarette out against the little metal snuffer.
She sensed, rather than saw, his hand reaching forward. She felt it on her neck and was about to turn to smile at him when his fingers curled around her silver choke collar. She tried to complain he was holding too tight but his hand gave the heavy chain a sudden twist, and it was too late-too late to remonstrate-too late to cry out. The cry was stifled in her throat and she was enveloped in a red mist. And then there was blackness.
He sat with his arm still outstretched, his hand gripping the silver choker as one would to restrain a vicious dog. After a while he relaxed his grip, and as she began to fall forward be caught her by the shoulder and eased her onto the seat again. He waited. Then, cautiously, he opened the door of the car and looked out. Certain that there was no one in sight, he got out, and leaning in, scooped her up in his arms and eased her out of the car. Her head lolled back.
He did not look at her. With a swing of his hip, he slammed the door to. He carried her over to the wall where it was lowest, barely three feet high. Leaning over, he tried to set her down gently on the grass on the other side, but she was heavy and rolled out of his arms. He reached down in the darkness to close her eyes against the rain, but it was her hair that he felt. There seemed to be no point in trying to turn her over.
8
The alarm clock on the night table beside rabbi Small's bed rang at a quarter to seven. That gave him time to shower, shave, and dress for morning services at the temple at seven-thirty.
He reached and turned off the alarm, but instead of getting up he made happy animal sounds and rolled over again. His wife shook him. 'You'll miss services, David.'
'This morning I'm going to pass them up.'
She thought she understood and did not insist. Besides, she knew he had come in very late the night before, long after she had gone to bed.
Later, in his study, Rabbi Small was reciting the morn-ing prayer, while in the kitchen Miriam was preparing his breakfast. When she heard his voice raised exultantly in the Shema: Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One, she began heating the water; when she heard the buzz-buzz of the Amidah, she started his eggs, cooking them until she heard him chant the Alenu, when she took them out of the boiling water.
He came out of the study a few minutes later, rolling down the left sleeve of his shirt and buttoning the cuff. As always, he looked with dismay at the table set for him.
'So much?'
'It's good for you, dear. Everybody says that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.' Her mother-in- law had been most insistent on it: 'You should see that he eats, Miriam. Don't ask him what he wants, because for him, if he has a book propped up in front of him or? he has some idea spinning around in his head, he can gnaw on a crust of bread and be satisfied. You've got to see that he eats regular, a balanced diet with lots of vitamins.'
Miriam had already breakfasted-toast and coffee and a cigarette-so she hovered over him, seeing to it that he finished his grapefruit, setting his cereal down before him with an air that indicated she would brook no refusal. As soon as he had finished the last spoonful, she served his eggs, along with his toast already buttered. The trick was to avoid any delay during which his mind could wander and he would lose interest. Not until he had started on his eggs and toast did she pour herself another cup of coffee and permit herself to sit down opposite him.
'Did Mr. Wasserman stay long after I left?' he asked.
'About half an hour. I think he feels I should take better care of you, see that your suits are always pressed and your hair combed.'
'I should be more careful of my appearance. Am I all right now? No egg stains on my tie?' he asked anxiously.
'You look fine, David. But you can't seem to stay that way.' She regarded him critically. 'Maybe if you used one of those collar pins, your tie would stay in place.'
'You need a shirt with a special collar for that,' he said. 'I tried one once; It binds my throat.'
'And couldn't you use some of that stuff that keeps your hair in place?'
'You want women to chase me? Would you like that?'
'Don't tell me you're above wanting to be attractive to women.'
'You think that would do it?' he asked in mock eagerness. 'A shirt with a tab collar and stickum on my hair?'
'Seriously, David, it is important. Mr. Wasserman seemed to think it was very important. Do you think they'll drop your contract?'
He nodded. 'Quite probably. I'm sure he wouldn't have come down to see us yesterday if he thought otherwise.'
'What will we do?'
He shrugged his shoulders. 'Notify the seminary that I am at liberty and have them find me another congregation.'
'And if the same thing happens again?'
'We notify them again.' He laughed. 'You remember Manny Katz, Rabbi Emmanuel Kate, the one with that tomboy wife? He lost three jobs one right after the other because of her. She used to wear shorts around the house during the summer, and when they went to the beach she wore a bikini, which is exactly what the women
