Flannery O'Connor Complete Short Stories (10 page)

“He says he don't want nothing but to sit down and look at you for a while,” Enoch said. “He ain't hungry but for just to see you.”

Haze looked woodenly at the woman and she turned her back on him and began mixing the milkshake. He sat down on the last stool in the row and started cracking his knuckles.

Enoch watched him carefully. “I reckon you done changed some,” he murmured after a few minutes.

Haze's neck jerked around and he started forward. “Give me those people's address. Right now,” he said.

It came to Enoch in an instant. The police. His face was suddenly suffused with secret knowledge. “I reckon you ain't as uppity as you used to be,” he said. “I reckon maybe,” he said, “you ain't got so much cause now as you had then.” Stole theter automobile, he thought.

Hazel Weaver sat back down. There was no expression on his face but inside his sour wet eyes, something moved. He turned away from Enoch.

“How come you jumped up so fast down yonder at the pool?” Enoch asked. The woman turned around to him with the malted milk in her hand. “Of course,” he said evilly, “I wouldn't have had no truck with a ugly dish like that neither.”

The woman thumped the malted milk on the counter in front of him. “Fifteen cents,” she roared.

“You're worth more than that, baby girl,” Enoch said. He snickered and began gassing his malted milk through the straw.

The woman strode over to where Haze was. “What do you come in here with a son of a bitch like that for?” she shouted. “A nice quiet boy like you to come in here with a son of a bitch. You ought to mind the company you keep.” Her name was Maude and she drank whiskey all day from a fruit jar under the counter. “Jesus,” she said, wiping her hand under her nose. She sat down in a straight chair in front of Haze but facing Enoch, and folded her arms across her chest. “Ever day,” she said to Haze, looking at Enoch, “ever day that son of a bitch comes in here.”

Enoch was thinking about the animals. They had to go next to the animals. He hated them; just thinking about them made his face turn a chocolate purple color as if the malted milk were rising in his head.

“You're a nice boy,” she said, “I can see you got a clean nose, well keep it clean, don't go messin with a son of a bitch like that yonder. I always know a clean boy when I see one.” She was shouting at Enoch, but Enoch watched Hazel Weaver. It was like something inside Hazel Weaver was winding up, although he didn't move on the outside, not even his hands. He just looked pressed down in that blue suit, like inside it, the thing winding was getting tighter and tighter. Enoch's blood told him to hurry. He raced the milkshake up the straw.

“Yes sir,” she said, “there ain't anything sweeter than a clean boy. God for my witness. And I know a clean one when I see him and I know a son a bitch when I see him and there's a lot of difference and that pus-marked bastard zlurping through that straw is a goddammed son a bitch and you a clean boy had better mind how you keep him company. I know a clean boy when I see one.”

Enoch screeched in the bottom of his glass. He fished fifteen cents from his pocket and laid it on the counter and got up. But Hazel Weaver was already up; he was leaning over the counter toward the woman. She didn't see him right away because she was looking at Enoch. He leaned on his hands over the counter until his face was just a foot from hers. She turned around and stared at him.

“Come on,” Enoch started, “we don't have no time to be sassing around with her. I got to show you this right away, I got. . . .”

“I ain't clean,” Haze said.

It was not until he said it again that Enoch heard the words.

“I ain't clean,” he said again, without any expression on his face or in his voice, just looking at the woman as if he were looking at a piece of wood.

She stared at him, startled and then outraged. “What do you think I care!” she screamed. “Why should I give a goddamm what you are?”

“Come on,” Enoch whined, “come on or I won't tell you where them people live.” He caught Haze's arm and pulled him back from the counter and toward the door.

“You bastard!” the woman screamed, “what do you think I care about any of you filthy boys?”

Hazel Weaver pushed the door open quickly and went out. He got back in his car, and Enoch jumped in behind him. “Okay,” Enoch said, “drive straight on ahead down this road.”

“What do you want for telling me?” Haze said. “I'm not staying here. I have to go. I can't stay here any longer.”

Enoch shuddered. He began wetting his lips. “I got to show it to you,” he said hoarsely. “I can't show it to nobody but you. I had a sign it was you when I seen you drive up at the pool. I knew all morning somebody was gonna come and then when I saw you at the pool, I had thisyer sign.”

“I don't care about your signs,” Haze said.

“I go to see it ever day,” Enoch said. “I go ever day but I ain't ever been able to take nobody else with me. I had to wait on the sign. I'll tell you them people's address just as soon as you see it. You got to see it,” he said. “When you see it, something's going to happen.”

“Nothing's going to happen,” Haze said.

He started the car again and Enoch sat forward on the seat. “Them animals,” he muttered. “We got to walk by them first. It won't take long for that. It won't take a minute.” He saw the animals waiting evil-eyed for him, ready to throw him off time. He thought what if the police were screaming out here now with sirens and squad cars and they got to Hazel Weaver just before he showed it to him.

“I got to see those people,” Haze said.

“Stop here! Stop here!” Enoch cried.

There was a long shining row of steel cages over to the left and behind the bars, black figures were sitting or pacing. “Get out,” Enoch said. “This won't take one second.”

Haze got out. Then he stopped. “I got to see those people,” he said.

“Okay, okay, come on,” Enoch whined.

“I don't believe you know the address.”

“I do! I do!” Enoch cried. “It begins with a two, now come on!” He pulled Haze toward the cages. There were two black bears in the first one. They were sitting facing each other like two matrons having tea, their faces polite and self-absorbed. “They don't do nothing but sit there all day and stink,” Enoch said. “A man comes and washes theseyer cages out ever morning with a hose and it stinks just as much as if he'd left it.” Every animal there had a personal haughty hatred for him like society people have for climbers. He went on past two more cages of bears, not even looking at them, and then he stopped at the next cage where there were two yellow-eyed wolves nosing around the edges of the concrete. “Hyenas,” he said. “I ain't got no use for hyenas.” He leaned closer and spit into the cage, hitting one of the wolves on the leg. It shuttled to one side, giving him a slanted evil look. For a second he forgot Hazel Weaver. Then he looked back quickly to make sure he was still there. He was right behind him. He was not looking at the animals. Thinking about them police, Enoch thought. He said, “Come on, we don't have to look at all theseyer monkeys that come next.” Usually he stopped at every cage and made an obscene comment aloud to himself, but today the animals were only a form he had to get through. He hurried past the cages of monkeys, looking back two or three times to make sure Hazel Weaver was behind him. At the last of the monkey cages, he stopped as if he couldn't help himself.

“Look at that ape,” he said, glaring. The animal had its back to him, gray except for a small pink seat. “If I had a ass like that,” he said prudishly, “I'd sit on it. I wouldn't be exposing it to all these people come to this park. Come on, we don't have to look at theseyer birds that come next.” He ran past the cages of birds and then he was at the end of the zoo. “Now we don't need the car,” he said, going on ahead, “we'll go right down that hill yonder through them trees.” He stopped and saw that Hazel Weaver instead of being behind him had stopped at the last cage for birds. “Oh Jesus,” he groaned. He stood and waved his arms wildly and shouted, “Come on!” but Haze didn't move from where he was looking into the cage.

Enoch ran back to him and grabbed him by the arm but Haze pushed him off absently and kept on looking in the cage. It was empty. Enoch stared. “It's empty!” he shouted. “What do you have to look in that ole empty cage for? You come on.” He stood there, sweating and purple. “It's empty!” he shouted; and then he saw it wasn't empty. Over in one corner on the floor of the cage, there was an eye. The eye was in the middle of something that looked like a piece of mop and the piece of mop was sitting on an old rag. He squinted close to the wire and saw that the piece of mop was an owl with one eye open. It was looking directly at Hazel Weaver. “That ain't nothing but an ole hoot owl,” he moaned. “You seen them before.”

“I ain't clean,” Haze said to the eye. He said it just like he said it to the woman in the FROSTY BOTTLE. The eye shut softly and the owl turned its head to the wall.

He's done murdered somebody, Enoch thought. “Oh sweet Jesus come on!” he wailed. “I got to show you this right now.” He pulled him away but a few feet from the cage Haze stopped again, looking at something in the distance. Enoch's eyesight was very poor. He squinted and made out a figure far down the road behind them. There were two smaller figures jumping on either side of it.

Hazel Weaver turned back to him suddenly and said, “Where's this thing? Let's see it right now. Come on.”

“Ain't that where I been trying to take you,” Enoch murmured. He felt the perspiration drying on him and stinging and his skin began to get pin-pointed, even in his scalp. “We got to go on foot,” he said.

“Why?” Haze muttered.

“I don't know,” Enoch said. He knew something was going to happen to him. He
knew
something was going to happen to him. His blood stopped beating. All the time it had been beating like drum noises and now it had stopped. They started down the hill. It was a steep hill, full of trees painted white from the ground up four feet. They looked as if they had on ankle socks. He gripped Hazel Weaver's arm. “It gets damp as you go down,” he said, looking around vaguely. Hazel Weaver shook him off. In a second, he gripped his arm again and stopped him. He pointed down through the trees. “Muvseevum,' he said. The strange word made him shiver. That was the first time he had ever said it aloud. A piece of gray building was showing where he pointed. It grew larger as they went down the hill, then as they came to the end of the wood and stepped out on the gravel driveway, it seemed to shrink suddenly. It was round and soot-colored. There were columns at the front of it and in between each column there was an eyeless woman holding a pot on her head. A concrete band was over the columns and the letters M V S E V M were cut into it. Enoch was afraid to pronounce the word again.

“We got to go up the steps and through the front door,” he whispered. There were ten steps up to the porch. The door was wide and black. Enoch pushed it in cautiously and inserted his head in the crack. In a minute he brought it out again and said, “All right, go in and walk easy. I don't want to wake up theter ole guard. He ain't very friendly with me.” They went into a dark hall. It was heavy with the odor of linoleum and creosote and another odor behind these two. The third one was an undersmell and Enoch couldn't name it as anything he had ever smelled before. There was nothing in the hall but two urns and an old man asleep in a straight chair against the wall. He had on the same kind of uniform as Enoch and he looked like a dried up spider stuck there. Enoch looked at Hazel Weaver to see if he was smelling the under smell. He looked like he was; Enoch's blood began beating again, and the sound was nearer this time like the drums had moved up about a quarter of a mile. He gripped Haze's arm and tiptoed through the hall to another black door at the end of it. He cracked it a little and inserted his head in the crack. Then in a second he drew it out and crooked his finger in a gesture for Haze to follow him. They went into another hall, like the last one but running crosswise. “It's in that first door yonder,” Enoch said in a small voice. They went into a dark room full of glass cases. The glass cases covered the walls and there were three coffin-like ones in the middle of the floor. The ones on the walls were full of birds tilted on varnished sticks and looking down with dried piquant expressions.

“Come on,” Enoch whispered. The drum noises in his blood were getting closer and closer. He went past the two cases in the middle of the floor and toward the third one. He went to the farthest end of it and stopped. He stood looking down with his neck thrust forward and his hands clutched together; Hazel Weaver moved up beside him.

The two of them stood there, Enoch rigid and Hazel Weaver bent slightly forward. There were three bowls and a row of blunt weapons and a man in the case. It was the man Enoch was looking at. He was about three feet long. He was naked and a dried yellow color and his eyes were squinched shut as if a giant block of steel were falling down on top of him.

“See theter notice,” Enoch said in a church whisper, pointing to a typewritten card at the man's foot, “it says he was once as tall as us. Some A-rabs did it to him in six months.” He turned his head cautiously to see Hazel Weaver.

All he could tell was that Hazel Weaver's eyes were on the shrunken man. He was bent forward so that his face was reflected in the glass top of the case. The reflection was pale and the eyes were like two clean bullet holes. Enoch waited, rigid. He heard footsteps in the hall. Oh Jesus Jesus, he prayed, let him hurry up and do whatever he's going to do! The footsteps came in the door. He saw the woman with the two little boys. She had one by each hand, and she was grinning. Hazel Weaver had not raised his eyes once from the shrunken man. The woman came toward them. She stopped on the other side of the case and looked down into it, and the reflection of her face appeared grinning on the glass, over Hazel Weaver's. She snickered and put two fingers in front of her teeth. The little boys' faces were like pans set on either side to catch the grins that overflowed from her. Haze's neck jerked back and he made a noise. It was a noise like Enoch hadn't ever heard before. It might have come from the man inside the case. In a second Enoch knew it had. “Wait!” he screamed, and tore out the room after Hazel Weaver.