Flannery O'Connor Complete Short Stories (8 page)

“Well, it won't no relief,” Enoch said. “Good Jesus, it won't no relief. I run away from there after four weeks and durn if she didn't get me back and brought me to that house of hers again. I got out though.” He waited a minute. “You want to know how?”

After a second he said, “I scared hell out of that woman, that's how. I studied on it and studied on it. I even prayed. I said, ‘Jesus, show me the way to get out of here without killing thisyer woman and getting sent to the penitentiary.' And durn if He didn't. I got up one morning at just daylight and I went in her room without my pants on and pulled the sheet off her and giver a heart attackt. Then I went back to my daddy and we ain't seen hide of her since.

“Your jaw just crawls,” he observed, watching the side of Haze's face. “You don't never laugh. I wouldn't be surprised if you wasn't a real wealthy man.”

Haze turned down a side street. The blind man and the girl were on the corner a block ahead.

“Well, I reckon we gonna ketch up with em after all,” Enoch said. “Ain't that girl ugly, though? You seen them shoes she has on? Men's shoes, looks like. You know many people here?”

“No,” Haze said.

“You ain't gonna know none neither. This is one more hard place to make friends in. I been here two months and I don't know nobody, look like all they want to do is knock you down. I reckon you got a right heap of money,” he said. “I ain't got none. Had, I'd sho know what to do with it.” The man and the girl stopped on the corner and turned up the left side of the street. “We catching up,” he said. “I bet we'll be at some meeting singing hymns with her and her daddy if we don't watch out.”

Up in the next block there was a large building with columns and a dome. The blind man and the child were going toward it. There was a car parked in every space around the building and on the other side the street and up and down the streets near it. “That ain't no picture show,” Enoch said. The blind man and the girl turned up the steps to the building. The steps went all the way across the front, and on either side there were stone lions sitting on pedestals. “Ain't no church,” Enoch said. Haze stopped at the steps. He looked as if he were trying to settle his face into an expression. He pulled the black hat forward at a nasty angle and started toward the two, who had sat down in the corner by one of the lions.

As they came nearer the blind man leaned forward as if he were listening to the footsteps, then he stood up, holding a tract out in his hand.

“Sit down,” the child said in a loud voice. “It ain't nobody but them two boys.”

“Nobody but us,” Enoch Emery said. “Me and him been follerin you all about a mile.”

“I knew somebody was following me,” the blind man said. “Sit down.”

“They ain't here for nothing but to make fun,” the child said. She looked as if she smelled something bad. The blind man was feeling out to touch them. Haze stood just out of reach of his hands, squinting at him as if he were trying to see the empty eye sockets under the green glasses.

“It ain't me, it's him,” Enoch said. “He's been running after yawl ever since back yonder by them potato peelers. We bought one of em.”

“I knew somebody was following me!” the blind man said. “I felt it all the way back yonder.”

“I ain't followed you,” Haze said. He felt the peeler box in his hand and looked at the girl. The black knitted cap came down almost to her eyes. She looked as if she might be thirteen or fourteen years old. “I ain't followed you nowhere,” he said sourly. “I followed her.” He stuck the peeler box out at her.

She jumped back and looked as if she were going to swallow her face. “I don't want that thing,” she said. “What you think I want with that thing? Take it. It ain't mine. I don't want it!”

“I take it with thanks for her,” the blind man said. “Put it in your sack,” he said to her.

Haze thrust the peeler at her again, but he was still looking at the blind man.

“I won't have it,” she muttered.

“Take it like I told you,” the blind man said shortly.

After a second she took it and shoved it in the sack where the tracts were. “It ain't mine,” she said. “I don't want none of it. I got it but it ain't mine.”

“She thanks you for it,” the blind man said. “I knew somebody was following me.”

“I ain't followed you nowhere,” Haze said. “I followed her to say I ain't beholden for none of her fast eye like she gave me back yonder.” He didn't look at her, he looked at the blind man.

“What do you mean?” she shouted. “I never gave you no fast eye. I only watch you tearing up that tract. He tore it up in little pieces,” she said, pushing the blind man's shoulder. “He tore it up and sprinkled it over the ground like salt and wiped his hands on his pants.”

“He followed me,” the blind man said. “Wouldn't anybody follow you. I can hear the urge for Jesus in his voice.”

“Jesus,” Haze muttered, “my Jesus.” He sat down by the girl's leg. His head was at her knee and he set his hand on the step next to her foot. She had on men's shoes and black cotton stockings. The shoes were laced up tight and tied in precise bows. She moved herself away roughly and sat down behind the blind man.

“Listen at his cursing,” she said in a low tone. “He never followed you.”

“Listen,” the blind man said, “you can't run away from Jesus. Jesus is a fact. If who you're looking for is Jesus, the sound of it will be in your voice.”

“I don't hear nothing in his voice,” Enoch Emery said. “I know a whole heap about Jesus because I attended thisyer Rodemill Boys' Bible Academy that a woman sent me to. If it was anything about Jesus in his voice I could certainly hear it.” He had got up onto the lion's back and he was sitting there sideways cross-legged.

The blind man reached out again and his hands suddenly covered Haze's face. For a second Haze didn't move or make any sound. Then he knocked the hands off. “Quit it,” he said in a faint voice. “You don't know nothing about me.”

“You got a secret need,” the blind man said. “Them that know Jesus once can't escape Him in the end.”

“I ain't never known Him,” Haze said.

“You got a least knowledge,” the blind man said. “That's enough. You know His name and you're marked. If Jesus has marked you there ain't nothing you can do about it. Them that have knowledge can't swap it for ignorance.” He was leaning forward but in the wrong direction so that he appeared to be talking to the step below Haze's foot. Haze sat leaning backward with the black hat tilted forward over his face.

“My daddy looks just like Jesus,” Enoch said from the lion's back. “His hair hangs to his shoulders. Only difference is he's got a scar acrost his chin. I ain't never seen who my mother is.”

“You're marked with knowledge,” the blind man said. “You know what sin is and only them that know what it is can commit it. I knew all the time we were walking here somebody was following me,” he said. “You couldn't have followed her. Wouldn't anybody follow her. I could feel there was somebody near with an urge for Jesus.”

“There ain't nothing for your pain but Jesus,” the girl said suddenly. She leaned forward and stuck her arm out with her finger pointed at Haze's shoulder, but he spat down the steps and didn't look at her. “Listen,” she said in a louder voice, “this here man and woman killed this little baby. It was her own child but it was ugly and she never give it any love. This child had Jesus and this woman didn't have nothing but good looks and a man she was living in sin with. She sent the child away and it come back and she sent it away again and it come back again and ever time she sent it away it come back to where her and this man was living in sin. They strangled it with a silk stocking and hung it up in the chimney. It didn't give her any peace after that, though. Everything she looked at was that child. Jesus made it beautiful to haunt her. She couldn't lie with that man without she saw it, staring through the chimney at her, shining through the brick in the middle of the night.” She moved her feet around so that just the tips of them stuck out from her skirt which she had pulled tight around her legs. “She didn't have nothing but good looks,” she said in a loud fast voice. “That ain't enough. No sirree.”

“My Jesus,” Haze said.

“It ain't enough,” she repeated.

“I hear them scraping their feet inside there,” the blind man said. “Get out the tracts, they're fixing to come out.”

“What we gonna do?” Enoch asked. “What's inside theter building?”

“A program letting out,” the blind man said. The child took the tracts out the gunny sack and gave him two bunches of them, tied with a string. “You and Enoch Emery go over on that side and give out,” he said to her. “Me and this boy'll stay over here.”

“He don't have no business touching them,” she said. “He don't want to do nothing but shred them up.”

“Go like I told you,” the blind man said.

She stood there a second, scowling. Then she said, “You come on if you're coming,” to Enoch Emery and Enoch jumped off the lion and followed her over to the other side.

The blind man was reaching forward. Haze ducked to the side but the blind man was next to him on the step with his hand clamped around his arm. He leaned forward so that he was facing Haze's knee and he said in a fast whisper, “You followed me here because you're in sin but you can be a testament to the Lord. Repent! Go to the head of the stairs and renounce your sins and distribute these tracts to the people,” and he thrust the stack of pamphlets into Haze's hand.

Haze jerked his arm away but he only pulled the blind man nearer. “Listen,” he said, “I'm as clean as you are.”

“Fornication,” the blind man said.

“That ain't nothing but a word,” Haze said. “If I was in sin I was in it before I ever committed any. Ain't no change come in me.” He was trying to pry the fingers off from around his arm but the blind man kept wrapping them tighter. “I don't believe in sin,” he said. “Take your hand off me.”

“You do,” the blind man said, “you're marked.”

“I ain't marked,” Haze said, “I'm free.”

“You're marked free,” the blind man said. “Jesus loves you and you can't escape his mark. Go to the head of the stairs and. . . .”

Haze jerked his arm free and jumped up. “I'll take them up there and throw them over into the bushes,” he said. “You be looking! See can you see.”

“I can see more than you!” the blind man shouted. “You got eyes and see not, ears and hear not, but Jesus'll make you see!”

“You be watching if you can see!” Haze said, and started running up the steps. People were already coming out the auditorium doors and some were halfway down the steps. He pushed through them with his elbows out like sharp wings and when he got to the top, a new surge of them pushed him back almost to where he had started up. He fought through them again until somebody hollered, “Make room for this idiot!” and people got out of his way. He rushed to the top and pushed his way over to the side and stood there, glaring and panting.

“I never followed him,” he said aloud. “I wouldn't follow
a blind fool like that. My Jesus.” He stood against the building, holding the stack of leaflets by the string. A fat man stopped near him to light a cigar, and Haze pushed his shoulder. “Look down yonder,” he said. “See that blind man down there, he's giving out tracts. Jesus. You ought to see him and he's got this here ugly child dressed up in woman's clothes, giving them out too. My Jesus.”

“There's always fanatics,” the fat man said, moving on.

“My Jesus,” Haze said. He leaned forward near an old woman with orange hair and a collar
of red wooden beads. “You better get on the other side, lady,” he said. “There's a fool down there giving out tracts.” The crowd behind the old woman pushed her on, but she looked at him for an instant with two bright flea eyes. He started toward her through the people but she was already too far away, and he pushed back to where he had been standing against the wall. “Sweet Jesus Christ crucified,” he said, and felt something turn in his chest. The crowd was moving fast. It was like a big spread ravelling and the separate threads disappeared down the dark streets until there was nothing left of it and he was standing on the porch of the auditorium by himself. The tracts were speckled all over the steps and on the sidewalk and out into the street. The blind man was standing down on the first step, bent over, feeling for the crumpled
pamphlets scattered around him. Enoch Emery was over on the other side, standing on the lion's head and trying to balance himself, and the child was picking up the pamphlets
that were not too crushed to use again and putting them back in the gunny sack.

I don't need no Jesus, Haze said. I don't need no Jesus. I got Leora Watts.

He ran down the steps to where the blind man was, and stopped. He stood there for a second just out of reach of his hands which had begun to grope forward, hunting the sound of his step, and then he started across the street. He was on the other side before the voice pierced after him. He turned and saw the blind man standing in the middle of the street, shouting, “Shrike! Shrike! My name is Asa Shrike when you want me!” A car had to swerve to the side to keep from hitting him.

Haze drew his head down nearer his hunched shoulders and went on quickly. He didn't look back until he heard the footsteps coming behind him.

“Now that we got shut of them,” Enoch Emery panted, “whyn't we go sommer and have us some fun?”

“Listen,” Haze said roughly, “I got business of my own. I seen all of you I want.” He began walking very fast.

Enoch kept skipping steps to keep up. “I been here two months,” he said, “and I don't know nobody. People ain't friendly here. I got me a room and there ain't never nobody in it but me. My daddy said I had to come. I wouldn't never have come but he made me. I think I seen you sommers before. You ain't from Stockwell, are you?”