by Packer, Vin
Flip said, “I heard of Dios.”
“It did not, mister. It began with C. It was the island of Chios, where Homer lived.”
“Sure,” Flip said. “I heard of Homer. Who hasn’t? Like, in school and everything. You know?”
“You would have liked my brother, Bardo,” Manny said. “He knew things like that, too. Irving would just bring books home and read them. Not for book reports or anything. Just for fun. I mean, he liked it.”
Raleigh gave Pollack an affectionate slap across the shoulders. He said, “And you study herpetology, Pollack, because you like it, and Heine here studies the intricate language of jazz.”
“Gee.” Manny’s voice brightened. “That’s right. We all have our own — ” He fumbled for a word.
Bardo supplied it: “Fortes.”
Flip said, “Man, like that’s the first time I ever heard it put just that way. Crazy!”
“Keep your eyes on Orion, gentlemen,” Raleigh said, “and let the Defenders march on singing!”
In a mood of curious and prodigious camaraderie then, the trio made its way in the night. The summer air was sultry, and busy with the intermittent rumbling of buses along Fifth Avenue, and cars and taxis that took the winding road through the park. Singing, the three went slowly in step along the path, each one now able to quell his peculiar anxiety of the evening, though not forget it. Flip could not forget the fact that he had nowhere to go afterward though his hunger had subsided, the way hunger will when it has gone unsatisfied for too long. Manny could not forget Sincere, and the remaining doubt that his pet belonged there and would not be better back at home, though the doctor and the man he had met a few days ago in the park were blocked out of his thoughts. Bardo could not forget that memory recalled to him so strangely only minutes ago, though the injury of Ivy’s running off to eat with McCoy mere hours after she had announced her intention of marrying him (callous!) was less painful. The three were more a whole now than they had ever been before, and who was to say the night did not belong to them? In it, there was some open-sesame that would admit them together, it seemed, to their separate roadsteads. All of them, too, were aware that this was only temporary; but instead of making them desperate or uneasy in the face of time, the realization solidifed them and made their togetherness a vaguely triumphant fact. And they had a song; never mind the words.
We’ll attack them, and we’ll beat them, and upon them leave our mark,
Then we’ll go marching on!
“Hey, man,” Flip said when they had paused in their singing, “what’s our mark?”
“We ought to have three stars, like in Orion’s belt,” Manny said.
“Pollack, you’re brilliant!” Bardo stated. “Of course!”
“Old Manny-man,” Flip said, “never know you flunked anything the way you’re sounding off t’night.” He kicked a rock in the pathway and pulled his hat down on his head more securely.
Manny mumbled, “I just know from Irv.” He frowned and held his box more tightly, peeved with Heine for mentioning his failure. He hoped Bardo had not heard; and Bardo hadn’t. For suddenly Raleigh stopped in his tracks and held his hand back, halting the other two.
“Hush!” he said. “Hush! Look!” He pointed with his finger. In the darkness ahead of them, a man sat idly on a bench alone, with a bottle tilted to his lips. He was in shirt sleeves; a thin, middle-aged man wearing dark pants, a white handkerchief knotted around his neck soaking up his sweat.
“A goddamned vagrant,” Raleigh muttered. “Pardon my obscenity, but look!”
Flip and Manny looked.
Manny said, “He’s drinking whisky.”
“Right, mister!”
“Just sitting there drinking whisky,” Flip said matter-of-factly.
Angrily Raleigh declared, “While his wife and children starve!”
“Do you think so?” Manny asked.
“He probably goes home and beats up his kids,” Flip said. “Like, punches them around.”
“He’s a rat!” Bardo said. “Come on. We’ll just pretend to be passing by. Then we’ll surround him.”
“What’ll we do then?” Manny said.
“Come on, gentlemen. This is the first business of the day.”
“You mean the night, man.”
The three boys walked leisurely toward the bench without talking. The man did not look at them while they came, and when they stopped before him he looked up casually.
“Pop to, mister!” Bardo exclaimed.
“On your feet!” said Flip.
Manny put the box down on the ground.
The man laughed. “Punks!” he said. “Young punks.” He took a swig from the bottle, swallowed, and then spat on the ground.
Furiously Bardo said, “Pop to, mister!”
“G’wan home and dry behind your ears, buddy.”
“Got your knife, Heine? This vagrant thinks we’re kidding.”
The blade of Flip’s knife flashed in the air, silver and quick.
Manny said, “We aren’t going to rob you if you get up.”
“Maybe we are and maybe we aren’t,” Flip said. He pointed the knife at the man menacingly. “Pop to, man!” he said, and Bardo’s eyes narrowed on the man.
The man got up. He shoved his bottle into his hip pocket.
Bardo ordered, “Break that bottle, mister. You’ve had the last of that bottle.”
The man grabbed Flip’s arm and twisted it back. “Drop your toy, Boy Scout,” he grunted. “Drop it on the ground!”
Flip’s face twisted with pain.
“Don’t hurt him,” Manny said.
Flip cried, “C’mon, you guys, help me!”
But Bardo simply stood there, his face white with rage, shaking, shouting, “Vagrant! Dirty vagrant!”
The knife dropped to the ground and the man put his foot on it. He gave Heine a shove. “Punk!” He laughed. “You punk!”
Heine stood there, his head bent, his arms dangling at his sides. Bardo backed away. “You haven’t heard the last of us, mister,” he threatened. “We’ll kill you the next time we see you. We’ll kill you!”
Manny said, “Did he hurt you, Flip?”
“Shut up!” Flip answered.
The man walked directly over to Bardo. He took him by the shoulders. Flip just stood watching.
Bardo said, “Take your fool hands off me. This minute!” A vein pulsed in his forehead and his eyes popped with rage.
The man looked at him, still with his hands on Raleigh’s shoulders. Then, hawking, he pursed up his lips in a round, fat bow and spat in Bardo’s face. He said, “Now run along, Captain Kidd,” and he put his hands on his hips and laughed.
Bardo stood transfixed. He was shaking and near to tears. His lips quivered and his teeth were chattering.
“Go on!” the man said. “Get the hell out of here — all of you.”
Flip started first, his hands in his pockets, his head lowered. He touched Bardo’s arm when he passed him. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s cut out.”
Bardo moved as though he were in a trance, wiping his face now with his clean handkerchief. Manny picked up the box.
As Manny began to follow, the man said, “What are you carrying?”
“A box,” Manny said, frightened. “What’s in it?”
“A s-snake,” Manny said. Then quickly he said, “Please don’t do anything to it, sir. I — “
“I’m not going to do anything to it, Junior.” He touched Manny’s wrist. “You ought to go home, Junior. You don’t belong with these punks.”
Manny jumped at the touch.
“What’s the matter with you?” the man said.
Manny began to run. “Wait!” he called to the others. “Wait!”
The man looked after them, standing and scratching his neck. He pulled the bottle out and drank. Then he ambled slowly along the pathway into the darkness, away from the trio.
• • •
For a long time no one said anything. They came up to Ninety-first S
treet, where the pathway ended. On one side of them there was the reservoir, and on the other Fifth Avenue. They stopped there and Flip spoke first.
“That was a good knife,” he said. “It’s back there on the ground.”
“Go and get it, mister,” Bardo answered.
“You think he’s — ”
“Are you scared of him, mister? Go and get that knife!”
‘’Sure,” Flip said. “Sure. I — I’ll be right back.” He sprinted away from Manny and Bardo, and the two stood silently. In the distance a clock chimed ten, and a doorman on Fifth whistled persistently for a taxi.
“You know something funny, Bardo?” Manny said, breaking the silence after several minutes.
“I don’t know anything funny,” Bardo answered.
“Well, I didn’t mean funny, exactly,” Manny said. “I meant sort of strange. Last week when I was on my way home I cut through the — “
Bardo interrupted. “I’ll never forget this, Pollack! Are you aware of that? I’ll — never — forget — this!” He stared at the handkerchief wadded up in his hand.
“It was unsanitary to do that. Spit in someone’s face.”
“Correct, mister! It was vile!”
“People shouldn’t do things without thinking. You never know how it’s going to make the next fellow feel,” Manny said. He set his box down and squatted by it. “I ought to see if Sinny’s O.K.”
“You’ve got a head on your shoulders, Pollack,” Raleigh said. He repeated, “Vile.”
“Gee, thanks, Bardo. Hi, Sinny! Hi, old boy! He’s all curled up under the grass, Bardo.” Manny smiled. “I bet next year I won’t have any trouble in school. I’m not dumb or anything. It’s just …” His voice trailed off. He said to the snake, “Go to sleep, pal. No one’s going to bother you, pal.”
Raleigh stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the handkerchief still rolled up in one of them. He pressed his lips together and rocked back and forth, looking up at the stars.
“O-rion!” he said emphatically. “Slayer of beasts.”
“Some animals eat snakes,” Manny said, standing up again. “But a snake is smart, too. In Life magazine once I saw a picture where a snake actually swallowed a pig. I mean, a little snake swallowing a great big pig!” Manny snickered.” ‘S funny how smart they are.”
“I’ll remember his face,” Bardo said, “and one day we’ll meet again.”
Flip returned breathless, brandishing the knife. “I got it!” He grinned. “Where to now?”
“That was a pretty silly idea, mister, cutting your hair off that way,” Bardo commented, looking again at Flip in the light.
“Whatsa difference?”
“It might never grow back, Flip,” Manny said. “I heard once — “
Flip cut into his words. “Like, I’m tired of hearing all the things you ever heard, Manny-man. Like, what is this? Graduation Day?”
“I just — ”
Flip said angrily, “Well, what are we gonna do? Stand around and yak all night? Cripes, let’s take off.” “Right, mister!”
“Why don’t we take the path around the reservoir? We can cut off down by the bridge,” Flip said.
“That little incident,” Bardo said as the three shuffled up the cinder path toward the reservoir steps, “is permanently engraved on my memory. Permanently!”
“He musta studied ju-jitz or something like that. Cripes, he was no Atlas, man. I mean, ordinarily I could take a guy like that on. But he knew tricks. You know?”
“A vile bully!” Bardo said.
Manny jogged along a little behind them, carrying his box.
It was Pollack that was the first to spy the second man. Flip and Bardo were ahead of him, going up the stone steps, and Manny saw the recumbent figure in the grass under the bushes a little distance from the trio, just off the bridle path that circled the reservoir.
“Psssst!” Manny called to the two. “Pssst!”
“You a teapot or something crazy, man? You gotta hiss?”
“Look down there,” Manny said. “Guy’s asleep down there.’’
Bardo’s eyes brightened. “Good work!” he said enthusiastically. “Good work, Pollack!” Then he turned and started down the steps, in the sleeping man’s direction. “Come on,” he said.
Flip snapped his knife’s blade in and out as he went, and Manny said to Flip, “I almost didn’t see him there.”
“You’re getting a big head tonight, man,” Flip grumbled. “Pretty soon the dunce cap won’t fit it any more.”
Manny shut up then; angry, his feelings hurt too. Flip was needling him too much. Why?
The three approached the man quietly, walking wordlessly across the parched grass into the small thicket where he lay. His shoes were off, one lying by the tall elm tree there, the other under a bush. He wore no socks. He slept face down, his mouth open, his head cradled in his arms. His shirt was an old faded blue work shirt, his pants ragged denims. He slept deeply, wheezing slightly.
“Let’s wake him up,” Flip said. He started to kneel near the man and shake him.
“Wait a second,” Bardo told him. “I know a better way.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out and lighting it.
“You smoke, huh, Bardo?” Manny said. He put his box down and looked at Bardo as he lit the cigarette. “I didn’t know that.”
Flip said, “Man, like, what’d you think?”
“No, I don’t smoke, mister,” Bardo said coolly. “It’s a filthy habit.” He sucked on the cigarette to get it going. “Mr. McCoy left this little memento behind on our hall table. I thought it might very well be of some use.”
“He was crazy!” Flip said. “I liked him.”
Bardo looked at Heine with a cocked eyebrow. “That’s very touching, Herr Heine,” he said. “Very touching indeed.”
“I wish you’d lay off the Herr,” Flip said, “You know, man?”
Manny laughed suddenly. “Yeah, because he doesn’t have any. Huh, Flip?”
“A clever play on words, Pollack,” Bardo said. “Now let’s attend to business.” As he knelt down in the grass with the lighted cigarette, Heine stood rocklike, scowling at Pollack, making his knife blade pop in and out. Manny felt Flip’s eyes fixed on him. He knew Flip was sore at him.
“Watch this,” Bardo said.
He took the lighted cigarette and brought it slowly up to the sleeping man’s bare foot; then he held it to the sole, and it burned the flesh a second.
“Jesus!” The man jerked his foot away. He exclaimed, “Jesus, what the — ” He blinked his eyes and raised himself on his elbows. He said, “What’s going on?”
He was about fifty, a medium-sized man with straggly white hair. In the darkness his face was not too clear, but his expression of astonishment was. His eyes were screwed up in a squint, his lips curled to one side and open. His voice was husky with sleep.
“Pop to!” Bardo snapped. “Pop to, mister! On your feet!”
“Huh?” the man just blinked like a lazy mud turtle on a rock in the sun. “Huh?”
Flip kicked him in the side. “Get up, man!” he said.
Manny said, “He smells like he’s been drinking, too.”
“He smells foul!” Bardo said, “Now, mister, I tell you to pop,” — he kicked him once in the gut — “to!” He kicked him in the hip.
The man groaned. “Whata you want? Ooooh! God!” He tried to get up, but he could not. He was very drunk, and now he was dazed, unable to comprehend what was happening to him.
Bardo said, “Get him on his feet, Heine. Help him, Pollack.”
The two boys raised the man up. He was only a little taller than Bardo. “Drunk!” Bardo spat the word out. He went to the man and slapped him hard across the face; three times, four, five. “Drunk!”
The man began to sober up some. He shook his head. “Where am I?”
“You’re nowhere, man.”
“You’re in Central Park,” Manny said.
“Who are you? What the hell’s going on?” The man yanked himself free, stumbled, but stood, and Flip took his arm again.
Bardo was looking around behind him and to the right and left of him. He said, “We’ve got a good safe place.”
The man began to yell. “Help! Hel — ”
Bardo put a fist in his stomach and he toppled back on the ground. Bardo straddled him, sitting on his stomach. Flip knelt down with his knife pointed.
“We don’t want any noise, mister,” Bardo said. “We don’t like noise.”
“What do you want from me?” the man said.
“Man, like, we’re going to give you a little instruction. Yeah.”
“A lesson,” Bardo said. “A lesson you’ll never forget.”
“Come on, boys,” the man said. “I’m old enough to be your father. Have a heart, boys.”
Flip took a handful of dried grass and dirt from the ground, cupped it in his hand, and held it to the old man’s mouth. “Have some dinner, Pop,” he said. “Specially prepared. Specialty of the house.” He brought the knife in nearer to the man’s face. “Eat it, Pop!” he said. “Eat your dinner!” and he shoved it in the man’s mouth. The man spat it out.
Bardo said, “He — told — you — to — eat — that — mister!” Bardo’s eyes glistened. “Roll him over on his stomach. Come on, Pollack. Don’t just stand there staring like a dummy.”
“I’m not!” Manny said. He bent over and, with Flip, rolled the man over.
“Please,” the man said, “I’m not well. I’m not at all well, boys.”
“Shut your yap,” Flip said. He pulled the old man’s hair. “Shut your yap or we’ll burn this here off your head, Pop!”
“What are you going to do now?” Manny asked.
“Get his pants down, Pollack.”
“Why?”
“Pollack, do as Bardo Raleigh tells you.” Manny put his hands under the man and grappled with the belt. Flip held the knife to his ear. “One word out of you, Pop,” he said, “you’ll eat your ear for breakfast.” “Boys, have some mercy,” the man said.
“I’m warning you, Pop.”
Manny pulled the man’s pants below his knees. Flip sat on the man’s back, his hands around his throat, the knife stuck in his belt. “All I got to do is squeeze, Pop, if you decide to sound off.”
