The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers [104]
The Nazis were terrible--everybody knew that. She plotted with him to kill Hitler. It would be better to have four or five people in the conspiracy so that if one missed him the others could bump him off just the same. And even if they died they would all be heroes. To be a hero was almost like being a great musician.
‘Either one or the other. And although I don’t believe in war I’m ready to fight for what I know is right’
‘Me too,’ she said. ‘I’d like to fight the Fascists. I could dress up like a boy and nobody could ever tell. Cut my hair off and all.’
It was a bright winter afternoon. The sky was blue-green and the branches of the oak trees in the back yard were black and bare against this color. The sun was warm. The day made her feel full of energy. Music was hi her mind. Just to be doing something she picked up a ten-penny nail and drove it into the steps with a few good wallops. Their Dad heard the sound of the hammer and came out in his bathrobe to stand around awhile. Under the tree there were two carpenter’s horses, and little Ralph was busy putting a rock on top of one and then carrying it over to the other one. Back and forth. He walked with his hands out to balance himself. He was bowlegged and his diapers dragged down to his knees. George was shooting marbles. Because he needed a haircut his face looked thin.
Some of his permanent teeth had already come--but they were small and blue like he had been eating blackberries. He drew a line for taw and lay on his stomach to take aim for the first hole. When their Dad went back to his watch work he carried Ralph with him. And after a while George went off into the alley by himself. Since he shot Baby he wouldn’t buddy with a single person.
‘I got to go,’ Harry said. ‘I got to be at work before six.’
‘You like it at the cafe? Do you get good things to eat free?’
‘Sure. And all kinds of folks come in the place. I like it better than any job I ever had. It pays more.’
‘I hate Mister Brannon,’ Mick said. It was true that even though he never said anything mean to her he always spoke in a rough, funny way. He must have known all along about the pack of chewing-gum she and George swiped that time. And then why would he ask her how her business was coming along--like he did up in Mister Singer’s room? Maybe he thought they took things regular. And they didn’t. They certainly did not. Only once a little water-color set from the ten-cent store. And a nickel pencil-sharpener.
‘I can’t stand Mister Brarmon.’
‘He’s all right,’ Harry said. ‘Sometimes he seems a right queer kind of person, but he’s not crabby. When you get to know him.’
‘One thing I’ve thought about,’ Mick said. ‘A boy has a better advantage like that than a girl. I mean a boy can usually get some part-time job that don’t take him out of school and leaves him time for other things. But there’s not jobs like that for girls. When a girl wants a job she has to quit school and work full time. I’d sure like to earn a couple of bucks a week like you do, but there’s just not any way.’
Harry sat on the steps and untied his shoestrings. He pulled at them until one broke. ‘A man comes to the café named Mr. Blount. Mr. Jake Blount. I like to listen to him. I learn a lot from the things he says when he drinks beer. He’s given me some new ideas.’
‘I know him good. He comes here every Sunday.’
Harry unlaced his shoe and pulled the broken string to even lengths so he could tie it in a bow again. ‘Listen’--he rubbed his glasses on his lumberjack in a nervous way--‘You needn’t mention to him what I said. I mean I doubt if he would remember me. He don’t talk to me. He just talks to Mr. Singer.
He might think it was funny if you--you know what I mean.’
‘O.K.’ She read between the words that he had a crush on Mister Blount and she knew how he felt. ‘I wouldn’t mention it.’
Dark came on. The moon, white like milk, showed in the blue sky and the air was cold. She could hear Ralph and George and Portia in the kitchen. The fire in the stove made the kitchen window a warm orange. There was the smell of smoke and supper.