No Doors No Windows

by Harlan Ellison

  It has been a long, long time, and I have not seen my son. It was inevitable that there would be no more sons…or daughters…no children born; that seems to fit, ironically.

  We have no children, and we miss them, but we havent too much time to worry about it now. After all, there is a war on.

  WHITE TRASH DON’T EXIST

  “White Trash don’t exist! Am I right?”

  It was Mister Herm Cressman, startin’ in on me again, and I hunkered down near the jukebox with my slop-pail and my brush. I didn’t want Mr. Herm to see me…’cept I knew he already had, if he was yellin’ that business about me not existin’.

  I knew all right. He was wantin’ to do me ever since I come to work at the Deepwater Cafe. He was standin’ there in the middle of the cafe, with his big old sod-boot on the brass rail, and holdin’ his beer mug ’way up high. He looked like he was callin’ the most important thing in the world, and he yelled it again:

  “White trash don’t eat, right?”

  An’ all them bar loafers who didn’t want to get in bad with big Mr. Herm, they chimed right back at him. “You right, Herm!”

  “White trash don’t breathe!”

  “Right!”

  “White trash just don’t even exist.”

  “Yeahhh, you right, Herm!”

  They had to say it; they was afraid not to, with him ownin’ the factory and all and being big besides. That would start him off. He slammed the mug on the bar, spillin’ beer all over for Poppa Jango to wipe up, then he stomped all over where I was scrubbin’ on my hands and knees. He yelled down, “White trash don’t even eat. Right, scum-boy?”

  My name is Charles Bennett, but he meant me. I always knew that. I’d never answer. I’d learned.

  Then, he gave me a nasty little almost-laugh like I was yellow, an’ just stepped on my hand and spit in my hair and kicked the soap-water bucket over before walkin’ away.

  I knew my place, sure enough. You got to be poor and miserable all your life to know what it’s all about. If you ain’t, then don’t even try. You wouldn’t understand none of what I’m tellin” you, how people never talk to you, they just talk at you. Like they needed all their eyesight to make you out. Like all they could see was the top inch layer of you. That’s how they all looked at me anyways, Mr. Herm ’specially. He hated me clean through. I din’t want trouble. No sir, no trouble.

  I guess I was scared right from the start. Then Poppa Jango called me into the storeroom out back of the Deepwater Cafe to warn me, and he was lookin’ all frog-belly white with scare himself. “Charles,” he said, “that Herm Cressman is out for you, boy.”

  “I know,” I said, wishin’ I didn’t.

  Poppa nodded his head like we’d made a good start on a tough problem, and all the while his face was puckered like a new-born baby. “Good,” he said, soft-like. “But he’s settin’ Lottie on you—to fire you up!”

  Then I felt surprised, much as scared, ’cause I’d always stayed far from Miss Lottie, the waitress. She never bothered me much neither, except once or twice to clean up behind the jukebox if I forgot to move it.

  “What you mean?” I asked Poppa.

  “You know Herm’s been cheatin’ on his wife with Lottie.” He said it like I should know it. Everyone knew it. Those two made up to each other in the back booth at the Deepwater and they didn’t care who saw it. Otherwise Poppa Jango wouldn’t of said nothing. He’s a good man who don’t spread gossip.

  I nodded my head like to say yes.

  “Well, Herm’s told her he’d take her to New Orleans for a week if she pushed you into makin’ a move on her. I guess he just wants an excuse to do ya, Charles.”

  I didnt wanna believe him, but Poppa was meaning it. Why, makin’ a move on Mister Herm’s woman would be just like killin’ myself sure; an’ I wouldn’t kill myself. Then Poppa told me again, real clear like, so’s there wouldn’t be no mistaking. Miss Lottie was gonna smile all over me and brush me and call me like everything till I got so hungry I’d reach at her. And she could do it too. She was like that. I seen men go almost crazy at the sight of her on some Saturday nights in the Deepwater. She’d set that brown, fluffy hair on top her head like a scoop of brown soapsuds that’s about ready to fly off, and wear those pearl things around that white neck of hen. And she was always about to bust out of her clothes. Like one of the men said once, she might be tall and slim but Lottie’s meaty in all the right places. She really got to men all right. I’ve seen them get tossed right out into the mud in the street by Mister Herm ’cause they made a grab for her skirt when she passed by. She was that bad.

  “What I’m gone do, Poppa Jango?”

  He looked at me like I should know how to melt and said, “Go away, Charles. He hates you. He’ll go real far to do you. Leave Deepwater—go North. You’d have a better chance there anyway. You’re a smart boy.”

  I liked what he said, but I din’t believe him. And I knew he din’t believe it neither. I’m real slow, I am. Then I got all confused. I kept thinkin’ of Mam. Mam would never go. She was born in that shack what Daddy built and we lived in and she was bound to die there. That was her wish an’ she wouldn’t do nothin’ else. All she wanted was the swamp smell, the bright birds that flew over the shack, and her pint. And I wasn’t gonna foul it up none.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I got to stay with Mam.”

  Poppa reached down to me then, grabbed my big arm muscle high up, looked me close. “Then you got to stay far away from Lottie, Charles. She’ll do it for Herm Cressman. She don’t love him. she couldn’t love nobody, that woman—but he’s got the money to take her where she wants to go and you know how he hates you.”

  I tried to stay away from her, God knows. I’d make sure I was outside when she was in, and be sweepin’ the floor or somethin’ when she was out. I’d walk a block around the Deepwater in the afternoon, instead of comin’ to work ’long the way she did. I never looked in her face none.

  But she was after me, that was sure. She’d be brushing up against me when we passed. Lickin’ her lips, straightening her body with her hands, whisperin’ soft, silky things in my ear when I was workin’—doin’ all that kind of thing. I was goin’ crazy. She was makin’ me think things, too. Things I din’t want to think. Things Mam told me wasn’t right for me to think.

  I’m not made of stone, God knows. I know it ain’t right for me to want a woman, ’cause I ain’t quite as smart as most, but that went on and on and on, till I swear I finally started goin’ crazy. You got to believe me when I tell you I din’t want none of that. I’m just a person, that’s all. I just wanted her to let me be. It’s not that I felt sorry for myself, but she was doin’ somethin’ wasn’t natural, wasn’t decent and sure wasn’t right.

  Then three nights ago, she got me to her house.

  “I got packages I need you to carry, Charles,” she said, leaning toward me over the bar. Everybody in the Deepwater was takin’ their tenth drink of the evening—the bar was full. It was that time of night, and everyone just stopped quiet and watched what was gonna happen. Even Poppa Jango got puckered up like he does when he’s scared.

  “Sorry, Miss Lottie, I gotta go straight home after work. Mam is down with the croup and I gotta…”

  “I want you to carry for me, Charles,” she said, and her voice was so hard I thought sure it’d shatter.

  “No, I…” I started to say no again, but I felt Mr. Herm’s big hand on my shoulder. I knew it was him. Then I knew I was gonna be in trouble. Right then was when I knew, so help me God!

  “You givin’ the lady trouble, scum-boy?”

  I looked up over my shoulder. I’m not real small but he was big, almost six foot five, I guess. All bigness. He had a body like dough. I knew if I ever did get a chance to whomp him—no matter where I whomped him—it wouldn’t mean a thing; he’d just soak up my fist like it was sinking in a pillow. He’d never feel it, then he’d up and kill me. He was so mean, it was comin’ outen his eyes.


  “No,” I said, looking at the floor between Miss Lottie’s high heel shoes. “No trouble. No trouble at all, Mr. Herm.”

  I din’t see it, but I knew they was grinnin’ at eack other. I could feel it. Her with “that evil smile that said, “I love doin’ bad!” and him with his all-over hate-smile, sayin’, “We gonna get you soon, white trash!”

  I felt my throat like it had a knot in it, so I swallowed. I tried so hard not to let them know I was worried. If I ran fast, I could leave her packages and get away from her house quick.

  “What you want me to carry, Miss Lottie?”

  Mr. Herm took his hand off me, off my shoulder. I thought a rock had lifted from me. I looked up.

  They was both smilin’ at each other like I thought they was.

  I set the packages down on the table and started to leave.

  “Wait a minute, Charles,” Miss Lottie said. She said it real low, and in a voice I knew would boil half the men that came into the Deepwater.

  She was really tryin’ to get me, I was sure of that ’Cause she’d stayed with me ever since she’d gotten off work at the Cafe. It was gonna be open till later and I had to get back, to clean up when they closed. She knew that. But she wouldn’t let me go. I tried to leave once but she called me back, told me to stay with her.

  “Protect me, Charles,” she’d said, smilin’ nasty. “I don’t want none of them dirty boys to rape me when I go home.” Then she laughed real mean. I knew she didn’t mean it, ’cause nobody’d bother her with Mr. Herm being her boy friend. Besides, all they’d had to do is give her five dollars. They din’t have to force her. I’d heard tell about it from the men once.

  “I got to go, Miss Lottie,” I told her. She leaned against the back door, and shrugged off her coat. It was one of them little halfie things, and she let it fall to the floor. “I got to go,” I said again, and I felt my throat ball up again. Her eyes narrowed down to real finey slits, and I could see she was tryin’ to do me. She was tryin’!

  “Stay around a bit, Charles,” she said, swayin’ towards me. I stepped back and wanted to run, but there wasn’t no place to run. I din’t know her house and she’d of locked the front door. Besides, she’d just of got mad, and told Mr. Herm, and I’d be as bad off as ever. She was tryin’ to do me!

  “You stay here a minute, Charles. I have to take a bath, then I’ll be goin’ over to meet Mr. Herm. I’ll want you to walk me back.” She had changed, sort of. She wasn’t as slinky as she’d been a second before. Now she was kind of businessy, like she really did want me just to hang around so’s I could protect her. That din’t seem right though, ’cause her house was only a block or less from the Deepwater and Mr. Herm could sure as not hear her yell if something wasn’t right.

  I didn’t like it at all. I guess I ain’t too smart, because if she had anything planned, I sure couldn’t figure it out. But I wasn’t gonna balk her none. “Okay, Miss Lottie,” I said. I sat down in a kitchen chair.

  She went out and I started to get up. Then I sat back down again. I couldn’t run off. There weren’t nowhere to run.

  I heard the water running upstairs. I wondered why Miss Lottie was goin’ to all this trouble, just to do me. Why didnt she just make it up that I’d tried to touch her or made a noise at her, then Mr. Herm could beat me up without no trouble. Why was that?

  Then I thought something that scared me right up. What if Mr. Herm wanted to kill me, maybe? He’d do it, alright He was that bad—he’d do it! What if then?

  I knew right away why Miss Lottie was doin’ it. I knew why. It was ’cause she was mean. That woman was as nasty as Mr. Herm hisself, and she liked to see a man suffer. I’d heard how she married once and had a kid, but her old man was mean and beat her up, and she left him and the kid. That’s what I’d heard. I don’t know how true it was—just I heard it. But she liked to see men unhappy, that was plain. And she was fixin’ to make me unhappy. Right then, honest, I hated her worse than anything. I just wanted to be left be. I wasn’t makin’ no trouble.

  “Charles!” I heard her voice come driftin’ downstairs. “Come up here a minute.” Oh, Lord, I knew she had somethin’ bad in mind, and I dint want to go. But she kept callin’ and finally yelled she’d tell Mr. Herm and he’d stomp me if I didn’t do like she said. So I went upstairs.

  I knew bad was gonna happen. I just knew it!

  She was sittin’ in the tub. The water trickles were all over her body and little round drops were in her brown hair, and on her breasts, and all over. She was beautiful that way. Just a little bit pink from the warm water, and the rippling that I could see right through, see all of her in that tub. She had those long legs pulled up together, huggin’ her knees, and when I came into the open doorway, she let them slip down, slow.

  I turned my face away. I didn’t want to see that. I looked all over at that bathroom. All the pink curtains and the perfumes on the glass shelf, and the fingernail stuff to file and paint and make her beautiful. I looked at all that stuff laying there.

  Then I had to look back at her. I couldn’t help myself none. Aint nobody could blame me a bit. I had to.

  “Soap up my back, Charles,” she said, holding out a pink washrag.

  “I—I gotta go, M-Miss Lottie…” My voice was real wavery, like it might not have even been my own to speak with. She glared at me real mad, and snapped I should wash her back or she’d tell Mr. Herm on me. I got scared, then, and took that cloth.

  Her skin was warm, and like it seemed to be glowin’. When I started soapin’ the rag, she stood up, the water flowin’ off her and splashin’ on the floor.

  “Now here,” she said, running her hands over her stomach. Oh God! I knew this was what she wanted. I felt my tongue get all dry in my mouth, and I started shakin”. She was a tall lady, and she had beautiful legs and body right there in front of me.

  She looked at me careful-like, up and down. “My goodness,” she said, real sweetness. “I do believe you’re excited, Charles.”

  I din’t say nothing, just kept running that soapy cloth over her. Once my fingers touched the skin and I felt like an eel had grabbed onto me. She was so pretty. Why was she tryin’ to do me so?

  I guess I got carried away because my hand kept feelin’, even after I dropped the washrag and it fell in the tub. First with just one hand, then with both. I was lookin’ at her stomach, just feelin’ around and rabbin’ and I was sweatin’ and feelin’ real strange. I started to say, “M-Miss Lottie, you’re so pret…”

  That’s as much as she let me get out. She gritted at me, the words comin’ out between her teeth. “Okay, trash, you touched me. Now get the hell outta here. Just wait’ll Herm gets his hooks on you.” She kept on like that, yet kind of ooin’ and ahhin’ ’cause I kept rubbin’. She tried to back away but I guess I wasn’t thinkin’ because I stuck right with her, leanin’ over the tub and when she slipped and splashed in the tub, I couldn’t help fallin’ in with her, I guess.

  “Get off me, scum!” she yelled, thrashin’ all about but I din’t hear her.

  I guess I went bad inside, ’cause I started unbuttoning my jeans and tryin’ to kiss her movin’ shoulders with the wet hair and like that. I don’t remember it all except I did something I never did before. We was flappin’ around in the tub like catfish in a net and for a while she stopped callin’ me “trash” and “scum” and started scratching my back and yellin’ things and moanin’ so’s I wanted to stop but couldn’t. She wouldn’t let me. She locked her legs around mine and kept splashin’ until all of a sudden I stopped and laid there like paralyzed.

  I never felt like that before in my life. Then after a minute, we stopped breathin’ heavy and her little noises stopped. She tried to open her eyes but they wouldn’t stay open.

  I got scared when I remembered where I was. I climbed up off her and the tub and ran down the stairs with my shoes squishin’ and drippin’ water everywhere.

  I din’t want goin’ in the Deepwater like that. My clothes was all wet. I d
in’t know what I was goin’ to say. When I walked in, everyone just stared at me. Mr. Herm stared and Poppa Jango stared and even old Walker Drummon who was half-corked, even he stared at me like everyone else. And when I looked down, I knew darn well why.

  My jeans was still unbuttoned and I was bare there.

  Mr. Herm got mad in the eyes and looked like he was goin’ to ask me something. I looked at Poppa Jango, buttonin’ up and feelin’ more scared than before, when all a sudden we heard her yell. It came from down the street. I heard her and they heard her too.

  “Hermy!” she screamed. “He did it! He did it, Hermy!”

  I got that feelin’ in my throat again and watched Mr. Herm. His face turned all kinds of colors and he started comin’ toward me. He was mumblin’ “dirty scum” and “white trash” and Poppa Jango was wavin’ like “go.”

  Next thing, I was out the door runnin’ like a hound. I was flyin’ down the street, past where Miss Lottie was standin’ on her porch in a nightcoat and runnin’ straight for the swamp.

  Trees was flyin’ past me and back behind me I could hear Mr. Herm yellin’ and swearin’ and comin’ after me. He din’t even stop to see Miss Lottie. It was me he was wantin’.

  “Rotten stinkin’ white trash sonofabitch!” he was yellin’. “I’ll kill you!”

  I kept goin’ fast as I could. The dark was closing in so tight over Deepwater you’d of thought the end of the world was comin’. I ran down streets and through an alley and, all the time, Mr. Herm behind me.

  Maybe ’cause he drank too much or ’cause I’m younger and faster, I got clean away. I ran right out of town. Down the Sidehill Road and into the swamp back of Gurley’s farm. I saw car lights comin’ over the hill and down the road about ten minutes after I ploughed hi, so I had to go deeper.

  The swamp ain’t no place for a man. Not in the day, and never, never hi the night I There’s stuff you can hear: crickets clicking in the reeds, the fish down deep, bubblin’ slow, and the cottonmouths slitherin’ through the brush. And then there’s stuff you can’t hear—stuff you know comes from Hell and don’t belong to man nor God. Like the swamp dust, like the bog-smell and the quicksand and death all around.