by Chaim Potok
“No,” I said very quietly.
“Epsilon Aurigae has a star that’s a billion miles in diameter. What do you think of that?”
“That’s big.”
“A billion miles in diameter.”
“I’m feeling a little cold, Michael. Should we go inside?”
“Once they thought the dark rift running along the Milky Way was a tunnel. They thought they could see extragalactic space through that tunnel. But it’s not a tunnel. It’s just cosmic dust. You can’t see the stars behind it because it’s so thick. It’s like black clouds. You can’t see some of the stars because of the black clouds. You didn’t know that.”
“No.”
“I saw a lot of stars last night, but I don’t want to talk about it any more.”
I did not want to tell him he could not have seen any stars last night because it had rained. I said nothing.
“I’m cold too,” he said. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“Inside for something. Wait for me here.”
He was on his feet. I got up.
“Wait for me here.”
“I’m freezing,” I told him.
“I’ll change it. Just wait for me. Will you wait?”
“All right.”
“I’ll change it if you wait. I’m tired of it anyway. Look at the way they painted it.”
He ran out of the pagoda and into the trees and was gone.
I sat there and waited. It was very cold. I was a little frightened and wondered if I ought to get help. Why the devil had Danny given him the newspaper? I sat there, worrying about Michael. I looked at my watch. It was close to four. He had been gone more than five minutes. I sat there a while longer. It was bitter cold. I got to my feet and came out of the pagoda. Leaves eddied like waves in the wind. I felt my shoes on the leaves and the leaves skittering against my trousers like dried insects. Through the naked branches of the trees I saw winter birds circling overhead against the pale afternoon sky. I moved quickly through the trees toward the house and thought I saw someone in the distance and called Michael’s name but got no response. I went up the front stairs two at a time and into the large foyer.
The man behind the desk looked at me curiously as I came over to him. He was the same one who had been there the week before. I asked him if he had by any chance seen Michael.
“Michael who?”
“Michael Gordon.”
“He’s outside somewhere. May I have your name please?”
“I’m Robert Malter. I was visiting with him.”
“Oh yes. Michael just went outside a moment or two ago.”
“He went back outside?”
He looked at me narrowly. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course.”
I went quickly out and down the stairs and into the trees toward the pagoda. I walked very quickly and finally I was running and there was the pagoda and Michael was on his knees on the wooden floor over a pile of leaves. He did not look up as I came behind him. He was on his knees over the leaves and I saw his hands move in a swift upward stroke and there was a sudden flare of light but the wind caught it and it was gone.
“What the devil are you doing?”
He did not look up.
“You stop that.”
“Go away.”
“Michael!”
There was another movement of his hands, very close to the leaves this time, and now there was smoke and the sudden swift spreading of the flame and I pushed him aside and put a foot on the flame and heard him curse and felt his arms on my back and I was falling over the bench, my right leg scraping against it, my arms flailing outward for one of the roof support beams and missing. I landed on my face on the leaf-covered earth and heard Michael screaming and cursing behind me. I got to my feet and jumped the bench back into the pagoda and knocked the box of matches from Michael’s hand. He screamed at me. His voice was loud and piercing against my ear. He screamed and I held him and he broke loose and scrambled for the matches, cursing and screaming. I grabbed for the matches and he kicked my leg but I had the matches in my hand now, a small box of wooden matches, and he was screaming in my ear and pleading with me to give them to him and I tried talking to him but he kept on screaming and suddenly there was someone else in the pagoda and I looked around and it was the uniformed guard who stood at the gate.
Michael froze. I stood very still, feeling the pain in my leg. The guard, a beefy heavy-set man in a gray uniform, was staring at the matches in my hand. He had his right hand in a tight grip on Michael’s arm.
“What’s going on?” he said.
Neither of us said anything. Michael was staring blankly at the floor of the pagoda. I could hear his heavy breathing.
“Give me those matches,” the guard said.
I handed them to him. He slipped them into a pocket.
“You two better come inside.”
Michael whimpered. “Look at the way they painted it,” he said. His voice was flat and without emotion.
“Sure, kid,” the guard said. “Come on.”
He kept his arm on Michael. We went back into the trees and up the stairs into the house. Inside the foyer, the guard took his hand from Michael’s arm and brought us over to the man at the desk. They spoke briefly. The guard put the matchbox on the desk.
“Thank you, Tom,” the man said quietly, looking at me and Michael.
The guard put two fingers to the peak of his cap and went out the door. I glanced into the living room. There were not more than half a dozen people there now.
“Would you like to go to your room now, Michael?” the man said in a low voice.
Michael stood very still in front of the desk and looked at him and said nothing. His hair was wildly disheveled and the glasses were askew on his face.
“Michael,” the man said.
Michael said nothing.
The man peered at him closely, picked up the phone, dialed, and turned his back to us. I looked down at my clothes. My coat was filthy and matted with leaves. My right leg throbbed. I heard the man talking softly into the phone. He put the phone down and turned.
“We’ll wait here a moment. Are you all right?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“It will be just a moment.”
I saw a woman come quickly down the inside stairway and go through the living room. She had on a white blouse and a dark skirt. She came over to us. She wore no make-up and had short black hair and looked to be in her late thirties. She smiled at Michael in a warm and friendly way and took his arm.
“Shall we go upstairs?” she said softly.
Michael went with her meekly. I saw them go up the stairs. He did not once turn around to look at me.
“Tell me what happened,” the man said.
I told him.
“Would you like to get cleaned up?” he asked. “There’s a men’s room along the corridor to your right. Then I’ll ask you to wait in the living room. Would you do that, please?”
I went through the living room and along the corridor, past the door to Danny’s office, and into the men’s room. I brushed the dirt and the leaves from my clothes, then collected the leaves and flushed them down a toilet. The men’s room was tiled and very clean and there were fluorescent lights on the ceiling. I wet a paper towel and raised my right trouser leg and saw a three-inch scrape that had bled and dried and was now throbbing painfully. I decided to leave it alone and tossed the wet towel into the waste basket. When I was done, I stood in front of the mirror and leaned heavily on the sink and let the trembling take me and waited until it was gone. It took a long time for it to be gone. I washed my face and hands and went back outside and sat down on a sofa in the living room. The man behind the desk in the foyer was gone. The living room was empty. I heard voices from distant parts of the house. I looked at my watch. It was ten minutes of five. I pushed aside a corner of a drape and saw the dark night against the window. I
looked around the room, then got up and walked behind the stairway and back along the corridor. I went to the foyer and picked up the phone on the desk. I heard a click, and a woman’s voice said, “Yes?”
“May I have an outside line?”
“Press down 2179 on the phone.” There was a pause. “Who is this?” she said.
I pressed down the button over the number 2179, and there was an immediate buzz. I dialed quickly. Manya answered. My father was not home yet, she said in her broken English. I told her I did not know when I would be home and that she was to tell my father I was with Michael and there was nothing to worry about. I hung up the phone and turned and saw the dark-suited man standing there looking at me. I had not heard him come back.
“Do you mind my using your phone?”
“No.”
“I couldn’t find a pay phone.”
“We don’t have any.”
“How is Michael?”
“Very quiet. He had a slight nosebleed. But he is quiet now. We called the person who is treating him. He will be here soon. He asked that you wait for him. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Please make yourself comfortable inside. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
I went back into the living room and sat on a sofa and waited. I found I was trembling again and took a deep breath and sat very still. My leg throbbed faintly. I leaned back and closed my eyes and after a while the trembling was gone but I remained seated with my eyes closed and kept hearing Michael screaming and there was the old man in the carnival again and Michael was screaming and I was grabbing for the dice cup. I opened my eyes. From somewhere deep inside the house came the voices of children. I looked at the large model of the schooner on the mantelpiece and thought I saw its sails moving in a wind. I fixed my eyes on the Hanukkah menorah. Tonight was the first night of Hanukkah. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. I closed my eyes. A clock chimed the first eight notes of Big Ben. It was five thirty. I sat there with my eyes closed. A moment later someone spoke my name and I opened my eyes and it was Danny.
“Are you all right?” he wanted to know. He spoke softly and calmly. The dark-suited man stood alongside him.
I told him I was fine.
He sat down next to me on the sofa. He had on his coat and hat. The hat was tilted back on his head, revealing the thick sand-colored hair. His eyes were blue and alert and very calm.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said.
I told him.
“Can you stay for a while?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You ought to call your father and tell him you’ll be late.”
“I called him.”
He looked at the dark-suited man, who had remained standing in front of us. “Is Mary still with Michael?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going upstairs.”
“Shall I call Altman?”
“I’ll call Altman. First I want to talk to Michael.” He turned to me. “Stay right here, Reuven. I may want you upstairs in a little while. Jack, come on up with me.”
They went across the living room and up the winding wooden stairway. I waited. The clock chimed twelve notes of Big Ben. It was an old grandfather clock and it stood against the wall a few feet to the right of the fireplace. I listened to it whir and chime. Then the room was silent, except for the distant voices of children. Five minutes after it chimed all sixteen notes of Big Ben I saw the dark-suited man come down the stairs. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and motioned to me. I came quickly over to him.
“Do you know which is Michael’s room?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Saunders asked that you go up there.”
I went up the stairs two at a time. The second-floor corridor was deserted. I wondered where everyone was and then realized they were probably all eating supper. I went along the corridor to Michael’s room and tapped softly on the door. I heard Danny tell me to come in. I stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind me.
Michael lay in his bed. He was in pajamas and he lay beneath the pale-blue cover, his head on the pillow and his eyes closed. Danny sat on a chair alongside the bed. He had removed his coat but was still wearing the hat, tilted back on his head. There was a chair near the foot of the bed. He waved me into it. I sat down and looked closely at Michael. His face was gray and he seemed asleep.
“Is he all right?” I whispered.
“You needn’t whisper,” Danny said in his normal voice. “Michael isn’t asleep. Are you asleep, Michael?”
Michael did not move.
“It’s Reuven,” Danny said. “Reuven is here.”
I saw Michael’s eyelids flutter. He opened his eyes and looked at me.
“Hello,” I said, managing a weak smile.
He did not say anything. He closed his eyes and lay still.
“Why don’t you tell Reuven what you told me?” Danny said.
Michael said nothing.
“You won’t tell him?”
Still Michael said nothing.
“All right,” Danny said quietly. “I guess there’s no reason for Reuven to stay.”
Michael opened his eyes.
“Well,” Danny said, smiling at him. “Are you back?”
“You tell him,” Michael said. “I’m too tired.”
“I think Reuven would rather hear it from you. Wouldn’t you rather hear it from Michael?” Danny asked, looking at me.
“Sure,” I said.
“Go ahead, Michael,” Danny said quietly.
“I sneaked the matches from the kitchen. Nobody ever watches when they’re cooking the meals. So I sneaked them out.”
“It took awhile for Michael to get up the courage to admit that,” Danny said to me. “Do you want to tell Reuven why it took awhile?”
“I was afraid you would be angry.” He peered at me anxiously. “Are you angry?”
“Of course not.”
“Michael,” Danny said quietly. “Why did you need matches?”
“I needed them.”
“I know that, Michael. Why did you feel you needed them?”
“To keep warm.”
“Were you lighting the leaves to make you warm?”
“Me and Reuven.”
“Was Reuven cold?”
“He said he was freezing.”
“And you wanted him to be warm?”
“I’ll do anything for Reuven.”
“Were you cold too, Michael?”
“I was cold.”
“Did you feel anything else besides the cold?”
“I was dirty.”
“Why did you feel dirty?”
“I was.”
“What part of you felt dirty, Michael?”
“All over. Especially my hands. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.”
“In a minute, Michael. Why do you think you felt dirty?”
“I was. I said I was.”
“Were you really?”
“I was a toilet. That’s what I was, a toilet.”
Danny said nothing now. He was waiting. I could sense him waiting.
“I was a dirty toilet and they were flushing things down into me. I held it in my hands and read it and it was in my pocket and I didn’t want Reuven to feel like a toilet also, so I wanted to burn it out.”
“Burn what out?” Danny asked very softly.
“The paint was wrong. I would have burned it out and they would have rebuilt it and changed the paint. The schooner has the same paint but it’s different because it sails. What do you want from me? Why don’t you go away?”
“Would you like us to go away?”
“No. Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
“We won’t leave you alone, Michael. I promise. You like the schooner because it reminds you of sailing?”
“Yes.”
“You like sailing?”
“I love it.”
“Why do y
ou think you love it?”
“Because I do.”
“How do you feel when you’re sailing?”
“Clean. Very clean. And free. And I like the clouds because they’re never black. And you can’t be dirty and a toilet in all that water. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world.”
“What does the pagoda remind you of?” Danny asked.
Michael hesitated. “A house.”
“Do you like the house?”
“Yes.”
“What else does it remind you of?”
“Dirt.”
“Why does it remind you of dirt?”
“Because it does.”
“What else does it remind you of?”
“More dirt.”
“Nothing else?”
“Dirt and dirt and dirt and dirt and dirt and—”
“All right, Michael,” Danny said very calmly.
“—dirt.”
Danny was quiet.
“I want to go to sleep now,” Michael said, staring up at us from the bed.
“Would you like supper?”
“No.”
“All right.” Danny got to his feet. I stood up.
“Don’t leave me alone,” Michael said, his voice panicky. “I don’t want you to leave me alone.”
“I’ll send Mary in to sit with you for a while,” Danny said gently.
“Good night,” I said.
Michael looked at me. His eyes were wet.
“I’m sorry,” he said brokenly, “I’m sorry sorry sorry. I was terrible. It was a terrible visit. But you’ll see my parents tomorrow. You won’t let this keep you from seeing my parents.”
“Of course not,” I said.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I only wanted to change the paint. I needed the paint to be different.”
“Go to sleep, Michael,” Danny said gently. “I’ll send Mary right in.”
He looked at me and nodded toward the door. We went out. I followed him to a door at the end of the corridor. He knocked softly and it was opened by the black-haired woman I had seen earlier.
