by Sol Stein
Suddenly he again heard a scream from one of the other lockers. It was a word. What was the man yelling? Mercy, was it? What if he started to yell Let me out, and urged everyone else to do the same? A thought occurred to him. Maybe there’s no one else in this place. Maybe all I’m hearing is a recording. It can’t be. There’s at least the freckle-faced man. And the man in the next locker who’d told him to shut up. If I knew the freckle-faced man’s name, thought Henry, I’d call it out. To keep contact. He’s got guts.
It was no use. The counting, the thoughts, the plans were all diversions from the physical need, the demand of his bladder. He was about to give in when he heard clear steps, then the rattling of his door, and it was swung open.
“Hi,” Clete said.
Henry looked at the face of the young man, the boy, whatever he was. Hi, as if nothing had transpired!
“Exactly four hours,” said Clete, glancing at his watch. “Seemed longer, didn’t it?”
Henry stepped down carefully from the locker, afraid that stretching the extra inch or two he needed to stand upright would cause him to collapse suddenly. He straightened out. The pain between his shoulders and in his lower back seemed worse. Margaret would rub his shoulders.
“Where’s my wife?”
“At lunch.”
Clete led the way out of the building.
“Who’s watching her if you’re here?”
“Don’t be silly, Mr. Brown. Think she’d run away with her ducky still here? Besides she likes her food, I’ve noticed.”
“Those sounds in there,” Henry said. “Is that a tape?”
Clete burst out laughing. “You’ve got some imagination! A tape? Terrific. How the hell do you think we tape the stink in there?”
“I’ve got to pee.”
“We’re going back to your room. If you can’t hold out, do it here.” He gestured at the side of the building.
Henry looked bewildered.
“Nobody’s looking,” Clete said jovially. “Except me.”
Henry opened his pants, turned a bit away from Clete, and took his penis out. Immediate, incredible relief. It seemed to take forever to finish.
“Hey,” Clete said. “Want to see something?” He took out his penis. “See,” he said, “you Yids didn’t get everyone in this country to go in for circumcision. My father wasn’t and I’m not.”
Henry didn’t want to get into a discussion with Clete about circumcision. “Can I go see my wife?”
“After your bath. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
In his room Clete showed Henry the portable whirlpool device on the side of the bathtub. “Run the hot water,” he said, “and you’ll see.”
When the tub was three-quarters full, Henry slipped out of his clothes. Clete watched him carefully as he got into the tub, afraid of slipping. In four hours he had gotten discouraged about his body. He had trained it for sports, for standing up to emergencies. In four hours it had been made to feel helpless.
As Clete was about to plug in the device in the socket just under the mirror, Henry yelled, “Wait a minute!”
“What’s the matter, love?”
“You’ll electrocute me.”
“You are silly,” Clete said, plugging the cord in. “Why would I do that?”
The device created a gentle whirl of water. Henry let himself slip farther into the tub until only his head was above the waterline. He could feel the heat in the muscles in his back, way up near the neck where it hurt the most.
“A few minutes in this and you’ll be a new man,” Clete said. “It really works except for the old-timers who’re just too decrepit for the locker gig. Practically everyone you see in the dining room’s been there for an hour or more at one time or other, and they’re not moaning about muscle pain. All they do is behave and they don’t have to worry about going back. Catch?”
*
Henry put on fresh underwear and a clean shirt, for the sake of feeling clean. Why was Clete watching him so carefully when he dressed? Was Clete gay? He didn’t seem to be. Was it just a way of making me feel like a thing?
“Can I rejoin my wife now?”
“On one condition.”
“Yes?”
“Well, don’t sound so sorrowful. It’s not a dreadful thing. I just don’t want you telling your wife about the lockers. If she misbehaves, I want it to come as a surprise to her.”
I must warn her, Henry thought. No, Clete wants me to warn her. It’d be another infraction. She’d be able to stand up straighter, but not turn around, not be able to stretch. She wasn’t in the kind of physical condition he was in.
“Agreed?” Clete asked.
Henry nodded. Tonight. They’d have to make a break for it tonight.
*
When Margaret, sitting alone at the table, saw him coming into the dining room she rose to go to him, but the waitress quickly whispered something to her and Margaret sat down until Henry could join her at the table.
“How are you?” she said. Her eyes said more: What did they do to you?
Henry glanced at Clete, who sat down on Margaret’s side of the table.
“Okay,” Henry said. He hoped his tone of voice would discourage Margaret from further questioning until they were alone.
Margaret, it turned out, had already eaten. Henry was served a bowl of chowder. He poked around in it, ate some. “I’m not very hungry,” he said.
“Well, stick around till I finish, okay?” Clete said.
After a while, Henry said, “Do you think I could take a nap after lunch?”
“Oh sure,” Clete said. “No problem. Why don’t the two of you take a nap together?”
Was he implying that Henry, after his ordeal, would not want to make love to his wife? Or was he hoping they would and watch them on the closed circuit?
Clete finished using a toothpick on his front teeth, then said, “Just to keep things straight. We have no objections to any of the Jewish couples here doing anything to each other they want to in the privacy of their room, such as it is—I mean the privacy—but you two really shouldn’t. You understand, right?”
“No,” Margaret said.
“You’re a Gentile, aren’t you?” Clete said.
Margaret’s expression froze.
“Nothing personal,” Clete continued. “It’s just Mr. Clifford, he’s got very strong feelings about mismatching. It’s a genetic theory of his.”
“We are not,” Margaret said, “any longer of childbearing age.”
“Yeah,” Clete said. “Your kids are what, half Jewish?”
Margaret did not reply.
“Which half?” Clete said, smiling. They weren’t paying attention to him. He didn’t like that.
Margaret saw the strange expression in Henry’s eyes. What had they done to him? She reached across the table, taking his hand.
“Isn’t that touching?” Clete said. “Get the pun?” He shook his head up and down.
Idiot, Margaret thought.
*
As soon as Clete locked them in, Henry took Margaret into the bathroom. The whirlpool machine was gone.
“Where’d they take you?” she asked.
Quickly, Henry turned on the cold tap full force.
“I’m not allowed to tell you.”
“What do you mean not allowed?”
“It was awful.”
“Do you hurt?” she asked.
Henry nodded.
“Where?”
He had to laugh. “Everywhere.”
“Want me to massage you?”
Margaret’s hands were expert at massage. He shook his head. Not in front of that camera.
“I don’t know how much time we’ll have. We’ve got to find a way to shake off Clete for a few minutes while we’re in the dining room. We have both got to head for the rest rooms.”
Margaret nodded.
“Once we’re out of sight of the main dining room, we’ll both go into the ladies’ room. The window there is concea
led by shrubs. I’ve checked it out. The shrubs go all the way to the edge of the woods. It’s on the wrong side for the highway, but we can circle around as we descend. Forget everything except getting ourselves out. I’ve got a way, I think, of making it impossible for anyone to open the door of the bathroom from the outside once we’re in. It’ll take them time to figure that out, and time is what we need.”
“Suppose there’s another woman in there?”
“Let’s worry about that when we come to it.”
“I thought you always say to plan ahead.”
“You’re right, but listen, Margaret. There are two important things to remember right now. We don’t want Clete’s suspicions roused. We need to make it seem as if we’re adjusting to being here.”
“I will try to be a good actress.”
“And second, Margaret, we both need to get as much rest as possible. Let’s try to sleep. We’ll need every ounce of energy tomorrow.”
*
When Clete came to get them for dinner, Margaret told him she’d caught a bit of a chill so that he wouldn’t wonder about her heavy slacks and sweater. He acted as if hadn’t heard her.
As they followed along behind Clete on the way to the dining room, Margaret whispered to Henry, “Clete seems upset about something.”
After they were seated, Henry said, “Clete, is something wrong?”
Clete shrugged his shoulders.
Henry, who could have an avuncular way with younger people, wondered if he could draw him out. The more Clete talked, the better Henry’s chances of finding the opening he was looking for.
“Girl problem?”
Clete looked at Henry suspiciously.
“How’d you know?”
“Oh I didn’t,” Henry said. “Just guessed something very commonplace.”
“Well, this isn’t commonplace. My girl…”
He stopped. Nothing wrong with telling them. “While you two were resting,” Clete said, “I thought I’d check in with Charlotte. She’s my girl. Terrific girl. I couldn’t get her on the phone, so I went to her room and found a note that she’s taken off for San Diego. In my car.”
“Anything the matter?” Henry asked, leading him on.
“You kidding? They’ll never let her get down there. She’s not due for leave till April. We aren’t allowed to take vacations together. Mr. Clifford thinks it encourages loyalties that supersede Cliffhaven if employees are away from Cliffhaven together, and…” He seemed reluctant to say more.
“Yes?” Henry asked.
“Well, Jesus, she left a note for Mr. Whittaker, he’s the manager, saying she got a call her father died. What shit! Her father’s been dead for years. She used to have a boy friend in San Diego. I’ll bet he got through to her.”
“Why don’t you go after her?” Henry asked.
“I’m supposed to be watching you, right? Oh they’ll bring her back, she didn’t have much of a head start, but if they put her in detention, that won’t do me much good, will it? They’ll have to have their asshole investigation. They’re always afraid some employee will get bribed by some bigass Jew to rat on Cliffhaven, something like that.”
“Do you think Charlotte would do that?”
“No way.” Clete glanced about the dining room. “They investigate you pretty thoroughly before you get a job at Cliffhaven. Besides, once you’re in, you’re in, know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t,” Henry said.
“This isn’t like any other job. You can’t just take off.”
“You mean the people who work here are prisoners, too?”
“Now don’t get me sore.”
“I didn’t mean to, Clete.”
“Guests don’t get to get away the way Charlotte did. Hey!”
Clete was standing. Henry and Margaret turned to see what had caught his eye.
She was a striking-looking young woman, nearly six feet tall, with shoulder-length blond hair, and very tan. She was not in uniform.
“Charlotte?” Henry asked, but Clete was already off in her direction.
Henry could see them talking animatedly. It was then Henry saw that she was in the company of two older men he hadn’t seen before. Had she been apprehended? Clete seemed to be arguing with the men. Then each of them took the tall blonde by an arm and escorted her out of the building, Clete following them.
“What was that all about?” Margaret asked.
“Never mind,” Henry said. “It’s our chance. Let’s go.”
He got up.
“You go first,” he said to her. “The ladies’ room.”
Margaret seemed nervous. He watched her leave, then slipped a fork off the table into his pocket.
The maître d’ looked his way as he turned the corner toward the washrooms. Margaret had just gone into the ladies’ room. Henry followed.
The minute he was inside, he saw Margaret trying to calm an older woman who’d just come out of one of the cubicles.
“I’ll need your help,” he said to Margaret and showed her how to twine her fingers to make a step.
“I’m going to step up on your hands,” he said. “Try to hold me up there if you can.”
“I’ll try,” she said.
Henry heaved himself up.
“I can’t hold you long like that,” Margaret said.
“Try!” Henry pleaded, jamming the fork into the space behind the pneumatic mechanism that closed the door. He shoved it hard, hoping it would work.
He jumped down.
“They won’t be able to open the door,” he said.
“I want to get out of here,” the older woman said.
“Please just wait a minute,” Henry said. “Please.” He unlatched the bathroom window and opened it from the bottom. The bushes outside provided perfect concealment.
“What are you doing?” the woman said. “You can’t escape.”
“Please give us a chance,” Henry said. “Or do you want to come with us?”
“You’re newcomers. You don’t know.”
He could hear someone trying the door.
“Now,” he said to Margaret and held twined hands for her just as she had for him. She got out of the window. He marveled at her agility.
Henry hoped his forearms were still strong enough. He hoisted himself up on the sill and flopped forward, pulling his body along, then dropped over the other side.
“This way,” he said to Margaret.
In two minutes they were in the woods, which dropped down at a marked angle. The redwoods provided no grip for hands, but the small seedlings everywhere enabled them to hold on as they stumbled forward.
Henry looked up at the moonlit sky to check his direction. The thick stands of tall trees let very little light onto the forest floor, covered with many years’ accumulation of slippery leaves.
“We’ve got to wend our way there,” Henry said, pointing. “Toward the highway and the ocean.” He was grateful for the distant boom of the ocean pounding the rocks.
After a while Margaret gasped, “How far have we come?”
“Not far enough. Are you okay?”
She nodded, and they were off again.
“My hands are all scratched,” she said.
“Mine, too. Sorry.”
He didn’t hear sounds of pursuit. If they couldn’t get the bathroom door open because of the fork he’d jammed into the mechanism, they’d have gone around the window side of the building by now.
“I think we’d better move faster,” Henry said.
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
It was like running in a nightmare, you couldn’t go fast enough. At times it seemed as if the floor of the forest descended at an acute angle to the sea, as much in a hurry to get there as they were. Henry tried to find the gentler slopes, wondering if any human beings had ever come this way before. If one was escaping alone and tripped, perhaps broke a leg, could one drag oneself out? Not likely, not through this underbrush. One would have to cry for help. Would anyone
hear? What if they had stopped looking?
“Be careful,” he said to Margaret
Henry heard the sounds of himself plunging through the brush and behind him the reassuring sound that Margaret was behind him. It was like a marathon, you had to keep going, keep going. How much longer would it take?
Out of breath, he stopped a moment. Margaret caught up. When she stopped, he listened. They could actually hear the sounds of the highway now. It couldn’t be far. His heart rose high with hope.
“Just a few minutes more,” he said.
“I can’t,” Margaret said. “I’m exhausted. Go on ahead.”
“No.” It was absolute. He took her hand and they were off again.
“Don’t try to hold on to me. I’m coming,” Margaret said. “I’ll be all right.”
Henry guessed they were now within a hundred yards of the road. The forest was thinning. He wanted to run, but the thought of losing Margaret kept him in check. Suddenly, he could see a slope bathed in moonlight. They were nearly out of the woods.
They stopped, their chests heaving. Henry was listening for the yapping of dogs. “Let’s run across the clearing,” he said. “Now.”
The grass was knee high. He had to lift his legs running. He could hear Margaret stumbling along behind him. Suddenly, they were on the unpaved road. He could see the sentry box and beyond it, the highway. He hoped nobody was in the sentry box this time of night. Running on the road was easier. He waved at Margaret to hurry.
He made out the chain across the road at the entranceway. On the other side of the chain stood six of the guests of Cliffhaven, each with a club in his hand. Had they made a break for it at the same time he had? Why were they just standing there? He stopped ten feet away from them, as Margaret caught up. Their faces, some of them, were familiar.
They were people from the trusty table in the dining room, wearing their armbands. One man stepped forward to the chain. He was about Henry’s age. “You’ll have to go back,” he said.
“Never,” Henry said.
All six of them were now holding their sticks in readiness.
“Please,” Henry said.
“They will take revenge on others if we let you go,” the leader said. “You must return.”
“No,” Henry said.
“Go back peacefully,” the leader insisted. “It is better for all of us.”
