Song of the Silent Snow

Hubert Selby

Fat Phils Day
Hi Champ
Double Feature
Fortune Cookie
A Penny for Your Thoughts
Liebesnacht
The Sound
Im Being Good
Indian Summer
A Little Respect
Puberty
The Coat
The Musician
Of Whales and Dreams
Song of the Silent Snow
Hubert Selby Jr.
Song of the Silent Snow

   To my wife Suzanne who sang the song with me

Fat Phils Day

   I used to get out of Sunday School about 10:30 or so and wake up some of the other guys and we’d wait on the corner for the crap game to start. We had one every Sunday no matter how cold or how lousy the weather was. And Fat Phil would be out by 8 with his shine box and get everyone goin ta church, from the 9 oclock Mass to the 11:30. He’d stand on the corner and look poor and neglected and he’d make out like crazy. If anybody asked him how old he was he’d knock off 3 years and say 10 and tell them he had to help support the family. He had some line and the churchgoers really ate it up. Anyway, after he finished shinin shoes he’d come down to 3rd Avenue and get in the game. Usually me and Fritz would play until we only had a dime left and save that for the movies, but sometimes we’d win a few bucks. But this Sunday Phil got on a hot roll and was cleanin everybody. Danny, a halfassed hustler from 43rd Street, usually came around and bet wrong, but he wasn't there today so the rest of us had to keep goin against the Greek. If Danny was there we could have jumped on Phils hot roll, but he wasnt. Anyway, everytime Phil threw the dice he’d throw a natural or if he got a point he’d hit it anyway. After about 7 or 8 passes he was taking all kinds of bets and winning: gagging his point, the hard way, over and under 7, anythin anybody wanted to lay and he won. We tried everythin to get him off the roll, jonahin against, then with, gaten the dice, but still he’d win. And everytime he threw another pass he’d roar and yell shootit, comeon ya bastads, fade me. Im hot. Comeon comeon, whos gonna fade me—halfabuck still open and somebodyd throw the money down, he’d roll the dice and hit another pass and roar and scoop up the money an we tried gaten the dice every other roll but he still won and everybody was goin broke and we started slappinim on the head and takin the polish from his shine box and he’d run after it and come back and throw the dice and hit another pass and roar that he was gonna take us all to the cleaners and Booby gaveim a shot in the arm and toleim if he didnt crap out he’d break his head and Phil still won but now he didnt laugh so loud and everytime he picked up the money we kickedim in the ass or rappedim off the head, but he couldnt lose. He hit 4 for a point and Sal madeim take an even money bet that he wouldnt do it the hard way and Phil almost cried but he put his money down and threw the dice and two twos came up and Sal toleim he’d break his shine box over his fat Greek head if he didnt crap out and he said hed pass the dice and Sal toleim he’d play until he crapped out or we’d killim and he picked up the dice and threw another natural and we were really punchinim now and he almost cried but still scrambled after the money and we kicked his ass, ya fat sonofabitch. Comeon fellas, leave me alone—rap—comeon. Gimme my brush—rap—please—another pass—stopit guys. Comeon willya? And he covered his head waiting for us to fade him and he hit a point and when he picked up the dice we rapped him and kicked him and he stopped pleadin with us and started pleadin with the dice come 7, please a 7 and he threwim again and again and it finally came up 4-3 and he jumped up and yelled SEVEN! There ya are, a 7. I lose, I lose. A 7–7! and he grabbed his shine box and ran like hell

Hi Champ

   He found a place at the middle of the bar and ordered a drink, smiling at the bartender. The bar wasnt too crowded, yet, but he knew that soon people from nearby offices would be coming in, and then the dinner crowd, and others for pre-theater cocktails. The bartender brought his drink and smiled, How are you tonight?
   O fine. Just fine. Harry picked up his drink and looked around to see if he was there yet, but he did not see him anywhere. But that was to be expected, he never got here this early. He tasted his drink, then put it down. He wasnt too interested in drinking, though he did not mind a few once in a while. Actually he had drunk more in this past week than he had at any time in his life. Maybe in his entire life… or at least in a year. But this was Friday and tomorrow night was his date with Rita so he had to talk to him tonight. It was now or never…
   He really did not know what he was afraid of. It was just a simple request and he could either say yes or no. That was it. He couldnt understand why he was having such a hard time asking. Why he felt so embarrassed. He had been coming here to Jack Dempseys every night this week trying to ask him and somehow he just never got around to it. He would go home and think about it and realize how simple it was and make up his mind to just walk over to him, smile, and ask him, and that would be that. And all day at work he would continue to tell himself that there was nothing to it and look forward to the evening when he would ask him, but then as he stood at the bar, waiting, mentally rehearsing, something inside of him seemed to freeze and he could not walk from the bar to where Jack Dempsey stood greeting people. He knew his request was not unusual, that all he had to do was walk over to him and smile, Hi champ, my names Harry Lewis.
   Hi Mr. Lewis. How are you this evening?
   Great. Real great, champ.
   Good.
   I was wondering if you would do me a favor?
   I can try. What is it?
   Im going to be here tomorrow night, for dinner, with a particular young lady and I was wondering if you would call me by my first name, you know, make a good impression.
   Of course—he was smiling at Harry—I’d be delighted to, Harry.
   Theyd laugh and Harry would go back to the bar feeling elated and then on his way home he would play the tape of him and Rita walking in and Jack Dempsey putting his arm around Harrys shoulder and greeting him like a long lost brother. He was a little surprised that the tape had not worn itself out.
   Every day and every night this week he played that tape, over and over, and still he was standing here waiting. But he could not wait any longer. His date was tomorrow night. He looked around… still nowhere to be seen. He looked at his watch. Another fifteen minutes or so. Tonight what I’ll do is just go over to him as soon as he gets here. Not take any chances of him getting caught up in conversations…. Yeah, thats the best thing. He nodded his head and finished his drink and ordered another.
   He was vaguely aware of bits of conversation around him as the bar started filling, but he directed his attention more and more at the door, smiling as people edged their way to the bar. The more crowded the bar became, and the more people slapped backs, laughed greetings and bought each other drinks, the more isolated Harry felt. I must be the only one here alone.
   And there seemed to be more people than usual, many more people… and more laughter, louder talk, more… more… more energy. Something. He could feel it. It made him nervous and edgy. He looked around the bar as discreetly as possible and no one seemed to be looking at him directly, but he had to admit that it was only logical that they would be talking about him as he was there alone, obviously not part of the in crowd. Maybe they thought of him as some sort of interloper or Johnny come lately… or just some kid who happened to pass by or—Harry suddenly felt hemmed in by the people around him. It was weird but he almost felt like running, well not literally running, but leaving. But he knew he couldnt. He had to see the champ, tonight! His body seemed to become more and more tense and he felt increasingly aware of what was going on in his head, and the combination confused him and forced him to inch away from the others in the bar, and then, when he saw Jack Dempsey walking toward the door, he felt propelled in his direction. Ah… a, a Mr. Dempsey, could -
   Hi. How are you? He stuck his hand out and smiled.
   Harry shook his hand and his head bobbed up and down a few times. Ah okay, a fine… a just fine. He tried to smile but his face kept creasing into a grin. A, how are you?
   Top shape. Couldnt be better.
   Harrys head continued bobbing as he fought his grin into a smile. I was wondering if I could ahh… you know… if I could ask—Harry could feel his face going through all sorts of pinched contortions and he fought desperately to stiffen himself so he would not fall flat on his face…
   Can I do something for you?
   Harry almost screamed with relief as he nodded, then almost screamed in despair as he realized he could not stop his damn head from bobbing up and down. He finally grinned it into submission. Harry took a deep breath, Im going to be here tomorrow night for dinner with someone and I would appreciate it if -
   Dempsey smiled reassuringly, You want to make an impression on a girl, eh?
   Harry refused to allow his head to bob and grinned as little as possible. Yes.
   No problem. Whats your name?
   Harry. Harry Lewis. I really appreciate yo -
   Always like to help someone out. He put a hand on Harrys shoulder, Anytime Mr. Lewis.
   Harry could feel himself grinning up at him.
   I've got to go. See you tomorrow night.
   Harry watched him walk away and just allowed his head to bob…
   Then he was outside. In the air. It felt good. O God it felt good. He wasnt grinning. He hoped. He could see clearly. Head must not be bobbing. Face feels strange… he chuckled. Must be relaxed. He was walking. Stopped. Looked around, Where am I???? O yeah. Okay. He slowed his pace. Plenty of time… plenty of time…
   Saturdays always took care of themselves. No thinking and almost no planning was necessary. He simply did the things that could only be done on Saturday such as the cleaning, the laundry, shopping, and the odds and ends that pile up during the week. The laundromat was just around the corner and he went to one store while the clothes were washing, and another while they were drying, but waiting for the machines to be available took up most of the time. That was when he caught up on his magazine reading.
   When he got back to the apartment he straightened it up a bit and puttered around, listened to a little music and watched an old horror film on TV. It was not until late in the afternoon that he started to think about his date with Rita. Soon it was time to get dressed and leave.
   Rita smiled as she opened the door, Come on in. But dont go too far or youll be out the back door. At least you would if there was a back door. Rita chuckled and Harry laughed. I just have to put on my coat and I’ll be ready. I used to live in a larger place, with a roommate, but I decided I would rather have something like this and have privacy.
   Harry helped her on with her coat. I feel the same way. I like to be free to do what I want when I want… and with who I want.
   She went to the door, Be careful, Im going to open the door. She laughed.
   They stood on the corner waiting for a cab. I thought we’d go to Jack Dempseys for dinner. I havent been there for a while and I suddenly had the urge to see if its still the same.

   She smiled, Thats fine with me. I dont think Ive ever been there.
   Its been quite a while since Ive been there, but I think youll like it.
   Harry made a conscious effort to relax as they entered the restaurant. There was a party of six in front of them and though Jack Dempseys voice could be heard they could only get a glimpse of him. The Maitre'd came over and escorted the party to their table and suddenly Jack Dempsey was standing in front of Harry and Rita.
   Jacks face brightened and beamed, Harry, Harry Lewis, how are you? Jack patted Harry on the back and shook his hand, How have you been?
   Just fine, champ. Moving right along. You know.
   Yeah. I know.
   O Jack, I’d like you to meet my friend Rita. Hi.
   Pleased to meet you.
   Youre looking great, champ.
   You know me Harry. Jack called the Maitre'd, Henry, Mr. Lewis would like a quiet table out of the way.
   Henry nodded, Of course. This way please.
   See you, champ.
   They sat and Harry opened his napkin and felt like opening his arms. He felt expanded and expansive.
   Rita smiled, I didnt know you knew Jack Dempsey.
   Well, we’re not exactly bosom buddies, but… you know.
   I think thats terrific. Im really impressed.
   Harry smiled and nodded in acceptance of the compliment. Hes really a very nice guy you know. I mean a regular guy. I like the way he speaks. I guess I must have been expecting some sort of rough—she shrugged her shoulders—certainly not such a nice, gentle man.
   Yeah, the movies have tended to stereotype certain –
   Would you care for a drink before dinner?
   Harry looked at the waiter for a second… Yes, I think so. I’ll have a dry martini, very dry. How about you?
   Yes that will do fine.
   When the martinis came Harry sipped his… Thats good. I dont like to taste the wine, or even smell it. He smiled. The dryer the better.
   I dont think Ive ever noticed. She picked up her drink, Well heres to you, champ. They both chuckled.
   Everything went smoothly. They enjoyed the food and each others conversation. There did not seem to be any embarrassing lulls in the conversation, or any lulls at all for that matter. They both contributed to the conversation and they went from one subject to another, listening, talking, both feeling relaxed in the others company.
   When they left the resaurant Harry waved at Jack, So long, champ.
   He smiled and waved back, Have a good night.
   Well, what would you like to do now Rita?
   Did you have anything special in mind?
   Harry shook his head, No. Im loose and open.
   Rita had an almost impish smile on her face. Well, theres a horror film festival at that theater on East 12th. I think theyre showing Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein tonight.
   Hey, no kidding. Thats terrific.
   There was a sound of glee in Ritas voice, Would you like to go?
   Love it. I always did like Elsa Lancaster.
   They both laughed and held hands as they walked to the corner to get a cab.
   The theater was filled with afficionados and there was a feeling of excitement. Harry and Rita settled into their seats, enjoying the movies, and each others company, sharing their enjoyment and thus increasing it.
   When they left the theater they both automatically, and almost simultaneously, took a deep breath, almost sighing as they exhaled. They looked at each other and laughed.
   Like to go around to the Cedar for a nightcap?
   No, I dont think so, champ. Im not much for drinking. If you dont mind?
   No, not at all.
   Why dont we pick up a cheese cake, or something, and go up to my place and I’ll make a pot of coffee.
   Sounds terrific. Im all for that.
   Harry put his arm around Ritas shoulder as they walked leisurely down the street.
   When Rita unlocked the door she told Harry to be careful, dont go too far, youll bump into a wall.
   Harry chuckled, I can always go out the back door instead.
   Youd better wait until they build a stairway.
   And a door.
   Rita laughed. In the meantime give me that and make yourself at home. She took the cake from him and went into the kitchen. When the coffee was brewed they sat around the table eating the cake and drinking coffee.
   Hmmmmm, this is good coffee. Whats the secret. Mines terrible.
   Simple. Never clean the pot.
   Harry almost choked as he laughed with a mouthful of coffee, trying desperately not to spit it out.
   Youre terrific, absolutely great for my ego. You laugh at all my bad jokes.
   I didnt know they were jokes.
   Her coffee cup was at her lips when she started laughing and she held it tightly with both hands as she lowered it to its saucer. Maybe we should declare a truce and wait until we’ve finished the coffee before making any more cracks.

   Okay—Harry raised his right hand—scouts honor. But you know, its hard not to be a little silly with you.
   O… Rita raised an eyebrow and smiled.
   Now dont start. We just made a pact. What I mean is—he shrugged—that I feel so relaxed. You make me feel so… so… at home.
   Rita smiled appreciatively. Thank you. Thats a very kind thing to say.
   Well, youre a very nice person—They smiled at each other unselfconsciously, taking pleasure in each others smile, and their own—And your idea of going to the flicks was a stroke of genius.
   Well, to tell you the truth I was scheming all day how I could get you to take me there.
   They laughed.
   Well it sure didnt take much talking.
   Rita stopped smiling and frowned slightly. Im sure that when they made those movies they were just trying to make a movie and nothing else, but I cant help reading things into some of them, especially the Bride of Frankenstein.
   Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, Like how?
   Well… well like every time man interferes with nature he creates a monster.
   Harry nodded, I know what you mean. One of the most touching parts in that flick, for me, is when John Carradine stumbles around saying, Friend, friend…
   She nodded, He didnt want much, did he? Just someone to share what he had with. Funny how simple it seems sometimes to be happy and yet how easily it all gets confused.
   Harry nodded and smiled and watched the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke and got excited, the way her mouth opened wide when she laughed, how all of her seemed to be happy with each laugh and just about everything that happened.
   They continued talking easily, chuckling, smiling, and laughing their way from one subject to another, sometimes taking time out from the amusements to discuss something serious, each one finding they had respect and interest in what the other was saying, feeling uninhibited and speaking honestly about what they believed, enjoying both the smiles and the frowns of the conversation. Then Rita glanced at her watch, Wow, look at the time. No wonder Im feeling tired.
   Harry looked at his, Yeah, youre right. Nothing like enjoying yourself to make time fly.
   Rita nodded, then smiled. Would you like to spend the night?
   Harrys smile was wide and warm, Cant think of anything I would rather do. They got up. But you had better lead the way, I dont want to go out that back door.
   They laughed.
   Almost immediately after getting into bed Harry put his arms around Rita and held her close to him. His mind was incredibly and abnormally quiet and unquestioning. He was absorbed by her and how she felt in his arms… She felt like her smile. They made love and it was completely satisfying for both of them and when they finished they lay on their sides, arms around each other, smiling and kissing, glowing…
   until
   they drifted into the softness of sleep.
   Harry was the first to awaken in the morning. He looked at Rita for many moments, then gently got out of the bed so as not to awaken her. He had showered and dressed and was in the kitchen heating the coffee by the time she awoke. Hi.
   Hi. Want a cup of coffee?
   Rita shook her head, Not right now. Think I’ll bathe first. Isnt that kind of strong? Wouldnt you rather have fresh coffee?
   No. Puts hair on your chest. He smiled and looked at her and wanted to touch her and lean over and kiss her but for some reason the sunlight pouring into the kitchen made it impossible. He tried to push himself forward, but was immobile. Have a good sleep?
   She burst into a smile, O wonderful—she suddenly yawned -how do you like that? Isnt that something—she laughed—but I did. And I feel terrific.
   Good.
   You like lox and bagels and that sort of Sunday breakfast tradition?
   Sure.
   Theres a good Jewish deli on the corner. You could get some while I bathe and I’ll make us some scrambled eggs with lox.
   Great. I ‘ll be careful opening the door.
   She chuckled and Harry watched her as she walked to the bathroom.
   The deli was crowded and by the time Harry got back Rita was in the kitchen. Here you are. I got a Times too. I figured if we’re going to be traditional then we should be traditional. They chuckled and Harry settled himself at the table with a cup of coffee and the Times while Rita started making breakfast.
   When they finished eating Harry leaned back and sighed, My God, that’ll stick with me all day.
   She smiled at him, Im glad you liked it. Im afraid I cant coast on it. I have to have dinner with my folks. She glanced at her watch, As a matter of fact I have to leave soon.
   Thats too bad… Well, I guess I had better get going then.
   If you wait a few minutes we can walk to the subway together.
   Fine. Harry smiled, Why dont you take the magazine section. Something to read on the train.
   Harry had an arm around Rita as they walked along the street, their bodies moving smoothly together. When they got to the subway they stopped. I’ll leave you here. Think I’ll take a bus.

   Rita smiled up at Harry. I had a wonderful time last night. It was the nicest night Ive spent in a long time. Her face was glowing.
   Yeah, me too. I wish it was an old movie. We could play it again anytime we wanted to. Harry chuckled.
   That would be nice. I always was a softie for happy endings. O, you didnt give me your number. She looked through her pocket book, I have nothing to write on.
   Thats alright. I’ll give you a call tonight.
   About nine.
   Fine. O here, dont forget the paper. He handed her the magazine section.
   Thanks.
   He kissed her and she felt soft and vibrant and when he separated his lips from hers he felt like sighing. Have a nice visit.
   I will. Bye.
   Harry watched her go down the steps, then turned and started walking to the bus stop.
   When he got home Harry stretched out in a chair and without consciously directing his thoughts he started reviewing the night, and the morning, and he felt excited all over again. She was as nice as she was beautiful, and the most exciting woman he had ever met. He experienced again how she felt next to him, the softness of her skin under his hands, the warmth that came from her body…
   and the way she smiled all over from somewhere deep within her. And she was so much fun to sit and talk with. It was incredible… And he had not felt awkward, not for a minute. He had never had an experience like that before in his life. There was always a little awkwardness, a little stammering or forcing of conversations, but none of those first-date things had happened. The entire evening, and morning, seemed to simply flow along some natural, divinely appointed course. It almost seemed unreal. God what a night… What a woman… What a joy. Yeah, what a joy. If its like that the first night, what will it be like later???? Things usually get better after people get to know each other, but how could it get better? It didnt seem possible. Everything was so perfect he did not see how it could be improved. Well, we’ll see. Give her a call tonight and then see what happens… Harry suddenly chuckled aloud as he remembered the long nights in Jack Dempseys trying to get up the courage to ask him the favor. How could such a simple thing have been so difficult? It doesnt seem possible. Not now. And he was so great. Its absolutely incredible. The whole week just to ask one little favor. And the whole night could have been ruined just by that. Who knows what would have happened if I hadnt finally asked him???? Might have been just another date. She sure was impressed by that reception he gave me. Yeah… she was really impressed. That probably was responsible for the whole evening. Might have an entirely different opinion of me if I hadnt arranged that. If she didnt think I was a friend of Jack Dempseys she might not have even wanted me to call tonight. Might have spent the night here instead of with her… But I did tell her we werent really close friends. I didnt lay it on too heavy. Just a little poetic license. Its really no…
   Yeah…
   Maybe she isnt going to her parents. Maybe she just wanted to have me leave. That business about my phone number could be just a game. If she really wanted it why didnt she ask for it before? Why did she wait until we were at the subway? There was plenty of time before. And what did she mean about happy endings? Ending what? If she doesnt want to see me again why doesnt she just say so????
   So I dont really know Jack Dempsey. Thats no reason to play games. She didnt have to go through the charade of visiting her parents just so I wouldnt be hanging around all day. I would have left…
   But the whole night wasnt really built on a lie… not really. Its not a real lie. Not like telling someone youre going to visit your parents just to get rid of them. Thats a lie. And telling them you like them when you dont. Thats a lie. And asking them for your phone number when you dont really want it. Thats a lie. The whole evening… night……..and morning…
   a lie.
   Just some-
   thing to torture the loneliness that tries to stay hidden in every heart….
   But maybe she will be there at ni—no… no. She wont… Maybe… Maybe she will
   But whats the point? It wont make any difference. You know what it will be like. The embarrassment… Why bother? There’ll just be another story… another lie. Theres no point in calling. Its always the same…
   Its all over.

Double Feature

   There was no tangible reason for feeling so great (unless you believe in astrology, but he didnt and wasnt aware of the positions of the constellations or the fullness of the moon) nor was it entirely due to it being Friday with two workless days ahead and 3 leisurely nights… though this, along with the warm weather of early summer, were partially responsible; but he wasnt attempting to define the reasons for this feeling. It was just there. That was enough. You dont plan it, you just enjoy it; relax and float along with it and laugh. Yeah, thats the secret, and as long as you control it youve got it made, but try to drag it by the arm and you’ll kill it…
   No, he’d play it cool. Just go up to the Avenue and meet Chubby and maybe go to a show and then CHARLIES and listen to the group blow—have a few beers and… who knows? When you feel like this you dont have to go around looking for kicks.
   He walked up 69th Street, smiling, to 4th Avenue and met Chubby in front of the pool room. Whatta ya say Chub, poking his arm and dancing on his toes, sparring. Whats with you Harry, been eatin happy pills? laughing and waving his left in Harrys face. Yeah. Anybody inside? No. A couple of the guys are in Phils talking about the game this afternoon. I bet Phils havin a ball. The Giants really clobbered the Dodgers today. A ball? Hes been roarin since the game ended. Yeah, I bet.
   They laughed and Chubby took out a packet of cigarettes, put one in his mouth and held the match until Harry had gotten one out of his pack and lighted it. Whatta ya feel like doin tonight, Chub? I dont know. Kinda early to do anything now. Feel like taking in a show? I dont know. Whats playin? Theres a musical at the Bay Ridge. I saw the comin attractions last week. It looked pretty good. O yeah, a couple of the guys saw it and said it was great. Jimmy went ape in one scene. A redhead does a real wild dance. Sounds good. How about takin it in? O.K.
   They left the avenue and walked down 69th Street, crossing to the shady side, to 3rd Avenue. Whos going to be at CHARLIES tonight? Im not sure. I met Mitch, the bass player, a little while ago and he said Buck Clayton might sit in tonight. No kiddin? Should be a good session then. Should be. Hes usually pretty cool. He said that kid who blew trombone last week might be there too. Great. He lets it get away from him sometimes, like hes trying to find somethin, but when he doesnt go too far out hes good. He should be real great someday. Remember that solo he took on A Small Hotel? Yeah. Man! He did some fine stuff on that. Never went crazy but blew it cool, real cool. He went way out on How High the Moon though. Yeah, he lost control of his horn on that one; Willie was poundin out the chords like crazy tryin to help him back. Hes good though. I hope he shows up tonight. I’d like to dig him and Clayton together. I guess he will. He probably gets kicks from playing with good boys like that. Yeah, I guess he does.
   They turned left on 3rd Avenue and walked toward the movie. A block away Chubby suggested they stop in for a beer first. They went in to the bar on the corner, had 2 beers and a bag of peanuts, then left and continued toward the movie. A few minutes later Harry grabbed Chubby by the arm and suggested they bring a little something to drink with them. You know, just a pint of wine. For kicks. Chubby smiled, shrugged his shoulders. Why not?
   They were both laughing as they bought the wine and a package of paper cups.We have to play it cool man. We dont want to look like winos. Chubby put the bottle in his hip pocket and walked in front of Harry so he could make sure it was hidden by his jacket.
   The nearer they got to the box office the weirder going to the movies with a bottle of wine seemed. Even a little exciting. They tried to stiffen their faces in a natural expression and Chubby stood to one side as Harry bought the tickets, then walked behind him through the lobby, looking away as the man took their tickets. They climbed the stairs to the balcony two at a time before relaxing; then started looking for seats.
   They found two empty seats on the aisle in the last row and sat quietly for a few moments. Then Harry told Chubby to open the package of cups. He started ripping the cellophane off slowly, the ripping sounding louder and louder. He stopped for a second, then ripped the remaining cellophane off at once and sat back and waited a moment before handing the bottle to Harry. He took the bottle from Chubby and immediately bent behind the seat in front as Chubby looked around, both of them giggling. Harry finally opened the bottle and Chubby passed two cups to him and he filled them, recapped the bottle and put it under the seat, then sat up. They forced their shoulders down, looked at the screen and sipped their drinks.
   Most of the people in the audience were laughing and commenting to each other, but Harry and Chubby laughed as quietly as possible, keeping their comments to a whisper. When their cups were empty Harry ducked behind the seat again, taking fewer precautions, and refilled them. When he filled the cups for the third time the only precaution he took was not to spill any wine. They sat holding their cups loosely, resting them on the seat between their legs; lifting them while still watching the screen and drinking; leaning over toward each other to whisper a comment as a seminaked woman walked across the wide panoramic screen… and laughing. Finishing their 3rd cup they were relaxed and laughing as loudly as the others, but with less provocation, occasionally laughing while drinking, wine spluttering and dribbling down their chins. The woman continued walking and they sat choking, coughing, trying not to make too much noise and not to spill too much wine.
   When Harry poured the last of the wine he put the bottle back with a clink and he and Chubby toasted each other and sipped slowly. When their cups were empty they dropped them to the floor and sat for a few minutes smoking, watching the movie and giggling. Then Chubby said he was getting thirsty. Yeah, me too. How about another bottle? Why not. Think theyll letya back in? Sure. I’ll tellem I want somethin in my car. Hey, how about gettin somethin ta nibble on? You know some popcorn or chips. Maybe youd like some ordurves already.
   Harry started to laugh, then half closed his eyes after Chubby left and stared at the beam of light from the projector, watching the vague smoke drift toward it and then brighten, whirl and float through the ray… drifting deeper into his mood. He wasnt drunk, though he was a little lightheaded, as was Chubby, from drinking the wine rapidly in the warm theater, but he had a fine glow and was relaxed enough not to think or be concerned with just how relaxed he was. He was going to laugh and have one hellofagoodtime. There was no danger of killing the mood either by losing it or dragging it. He just drifted between the light, the smoke, the screen, one of the girls at work, CHARLIES, Clayton and the trombonist… but mainly sinking further and further into his contentment, his mind almost empty (forcing a silly grin of introspection), knowing this was going to be a good night, a good weekend. Not crazy wild. Just a lot of laughs…
   Harry drifted, oblivious of place or time… Then Chubby appeared, sat down and took 2 bottles from his pockets and handed them to him. Thought I’d get an extra one. You know, just in case.

   Harry laughed and took the bottles, put one under the seat, opened the other and filled a cup. While he was pouring Chubby took a full loaf hero sandwich from under his jacket. Harry didnt notice it, being too busy opening the bottle and pouring the wine, so it was just a blur seen from the side of his eye. When he turned to give Chubby his drink, Chubby was holding the sandwich horizontally, nibbling at the liverwurst hanging over the sides, humming claire de lune and waving his fingers like a harmonica player. The people around them were nudging each other and laughing, some tapping those in front of them and pointing to Chubby as he played the hero sandwich, Harry staring at him, holding a cup of wine. The laughter and craning of necks increased until almost that entire section of the balcony was ignoring the screen and watching the playing of the sandwich. Chubby turned to Harry and rolled his eyes and fluttered his lids, still fanning the sandwich and moving his shoulders to the music. Harry, his hand holding the cup of wine still extended toward Chubby, stared, chuckled, then laughed, the wine spilling over his hand and dripping on Chubbys pants, his hand slowly falling and the cup tilting until the wine poured out in a steady stream and splashed on their feet, their laughter growing louder, people turning in their seats, looking and laughing as Harry laughed and Chubby laughed, still playing the hero sandwich (his laughter, muffled by the sandwich, sounding weird), slowly bending over, sinking further down and almost about to double into a ball and roll down the stairs with a steady thump bump, thump bump, still laughing and playing the hero sandwich, when Harry dropped the cup, plop, fell on Chubbys shoulder and put his arms around him forcing the sandwich from his mouth, burying his face in Chubbys jacket.
   They remained embraced until their laughter stopped, not from determination but exhaustion, then parted and sat back in their seats with a series of soft sighs. Slowly the attention of the others returned to the screen and the two sat, silent (except for an occasional involuntary snort), wanting and not wanting to look at each other, sitting slightly angled from each other (the sandwich resting on Chubbys lap), covering their faces with their hands…
   Harry breathed deeply and without looking at Chubby told him to put that damn thing away. Chubby mumbled something, put the sandwich up his sleeve, said, Its o.k. now, and they turned slowly in their seats until they were once more facing the screen. Harry reached under the seat for the bottle and filled 2 cups, handed one to Chubby. They spoke to each other only after emptying their cups and refilling them. The hollowness created by their laughter was filled by the wine and as the warmth of relaxation increased they leaned towards each other and once more were whispering comments and laughing.
   They drank more rapidly (the bottle being replaced with a clink), their heads barely apart, their elbows on the arm rest between their seats, lifting their drinking arms and tilting their heads back… each a reflection of the other. And, as they drank, their whispering, giggling and laughter grew louder, yet still not boisterous or annoying.
   From making comments upon the action on the screen they progressed to prediction and then to direction; urging the girl-shy male star to kiss her, she wont bite… tittering, laughing, reaching for the bottle (clink) watching the wine being poured into the cup (plop, plop, plop), putting the bottle back (clink) -whatzamatta with that guy, is he nutsor somethin? If I had a broad like that runnin afta me I’d—swaying, wine sloshing in the cups; laughing, swallowing, bubbling, choking, wine splashing on their noses, dribbling down their chins, dark spots blotted by pants and shirts—reaching (clink), only a few drops left, watching the last drop plop into the cup, still one left (clink); two empties; good show, eh Chubb? Cups refilled (getting soft and soggy, dented, dont squeeze too tight, please dont squeeza the banana—held by the bottom in the palm of the hand); wheres the otha ones—all gone—no more haha—no (clink) more (bottle resting on his lap)—come fill me with the old familiar juice -HUH HUH—she slinks, semidressed, toward him, hair over the side of her face, hips liquid, rubs his cheeks then pushes her hands thru his hair, down his neck and back, sways in front of him, all virtues and charms (almost all) displayed, the voice throaty, begging… he asks her what she wants—OOOOO whattza matta? ya crazy? HAHAHA–He’d betta go ta Denmark—HUH HUH (cups squashed and dropped to the floor, the bottle passed back and forth), drinking in large gulps, small drops trickling down their chins and adams apples—she forces him back onto a couch, bends over him, gives him the look and kisses him… he kicks and waves his arms—I toldja they was all fruits in Hollywood—the struggling stopped, soft music -dont fight it, enjoy it HAHAHA—holding the bottle up, not much left, get somemore—OOOO please dont squeeza the banana; only a drink left; save me some, a gulp, ahhh… here rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, empty bottle passed back (clink)—no more; all gone, three dead soldiers—HUH-HUHHUH -hey daddy, I wanna ice cream. Shaddup an drink ya beer. HEHEHE, that guys nuts—HUHHUHHUH, I cant HAHAHA—whatz he HEHEHEHE—the screen wavering and blurred… images tumbling about… HAHEHHUHHOHO-HEHHUHHHO…
   Please be quiet, sir. Youre disturbing the others. The usher finished his prescribed speech and duty and was turning to walk away when Chubby suddenly jumped up, whipped out his hero sandwich and started fencing with him, Un Guard!!!! He brandished the sandwich in front on the ushers face, parried thrusts, stepped aside as a lunging sword just missed his chest; parried again and with perfect execution and grace watched another thrust pass, then stooping low, left knee bent and right leg extended behind, he parried the last lunge and thrust home, TOUCHE!!!! piercing the usher, mortally, a little to the left of his second brass button. Chubby watched him slump to the floor, proud of his victory, yet with some regret at having killed so noble an adversary… The sandwich bent slightly with the thrust and a piece of liverwurst fell on the ushers shoe. He stared at it for a moment (all he had intended to do was deliver his speech and leave and now he was standing in front of a drunk waving a hero sandwich and there was liverwurst on his shoe) until his head was forced up by the tip of Chubbys sword. Harry stood up and tried to speak in a high falsetto, but phlegm stuck in his throat causing his words to sound gargled, My HERGGO! Then he roared, leaned on Chubbys shoulder; Chubby roared, the sandwich hanging from his hand, the liverwurst dropping to the rug. Harry tripped over the bottles as he pushed Chubby out into the aisle, and they bounced clinkingly down the steps.
   Harrys eyes were tearing and he bounced off the banister as he went down the stairs, Chubby behind him. They reached the first landing and turned to continue, half bent with laughter, stumbling, falling… Chubby raised himself to his knees, holding his stomach, whining hysterically, saliva dribbling from his mouth—Harry felt sand under his nails, pulled himself up, heard a thump and continued stumbling down the staircase; banged through the doors (turning to look for Chubby expecting to see him roll down the stairs, ass and head, ass and head, ass and head, then careened out to the street. His momentum carried him to the corner where he leaned against the fender of a car, laughing… just laughing… not trying to stop or continue, not wondering where Chubby was; not thinking about the fencing scene or CHARLIES and the group or how he felt; not conscious of the saliva dripping down his chin; not even thinking of having another drink… just laughing….
   Then there were shadows, voices… then people. Thats the other one. O.K. buddy, comeon. A policeman grabbed his arm and they followed the usher and the manager back into the theater, hurried through the lobby and into the managers office. Chubby was sitting on a stool in the corner, another policeman in front of him, smoking and still smiling. Youre sure it was these two? O yes sir. Theyre the ones. Im sure. I dont know which one turned over the cigarette urn, but Im absolutely certain theyre the ones. You see I heard a dis—O.K., O.K. Thanks. You can go now.

   The usher backed out of the office and the cop walked between Chubby and Harry, rubbed the knuckles of his right hand with the palm of his left and asked what-in-the-hell they thought this was, a gymnasium or something? Annoyed at being called and at Chubby's stupid grin (appearing insolent to him), but wanting to make an impression on the manager, knowing he never forgot a favor. He stepped in front of Chubby and slapped the cigarette from his mouth. His aim wasn't perfect and in knocking it out he burned his hand. He grunted, held his hand for a second and when he looked back, Chubby had the same stupid grin on his face. He grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, slammed his head against the wall, slapped him a half dozen times, then shoved him into the chair.
   Harry watched, not unseeingly, but uncomprehendingly, still incapable of forcing his mind to work. Somewhere there was a vague remembrance of a sound, but the only thing definite was laughter, thats all, laughter. He was leaning against the chair, laughing. That wasn't a memory. That must be what hes doing now, and all this is something else. What was wrong? That was Chubby. He recognized him. Hes still laughing; and it looks like wine trickling down his chin. Theres nothing wrong. We’re both laughing… He started to take a step toward Chubby, but the other cop poked him, hard, in the stomach with his nightstick. Go ahead you sonofabitch. Start something. Just start something, tough guy.
   Harry instinctively clutched his stomach, confused and still unable to understand what had and was happening. The cop turned back to Chubby and told him to give them his identification. Chubby handed him his wallet and the cop slapped him on the chest with it and told him he wanted his identification, not his wallet. Who do you think youre tryin to buy off? He grabbed the draft card from Chubbys hand. 19. Another one of those punks who thinks hes a big brave man because he has a draft card. Cant you think of anything better to do than sit in a movie drinking cheap wine and damaging property? The cop growled in the accustomed manner, no longer deliberate, but habitual, and stood in front of Chubby glaring at him as he did everyone else in the same position, expecting the face to be lowered and some sort of apology murmured and then he would yell for him to speak up, and when it had been repeated he would curse him, tell him hes lucky that hes not going to lock him up and then tell him ta get the hell home… yet hoping, looking at the still smirking face, that he would give him some sort of wisecrack and afford him an excuse to slap his face again. Chubbys first attempt at speech was incoherent and slobbering. What? It washnt sheep. He didnt take time to enjoy the fulfillment of his wish, but swung immediately, knocking Chubby over the chair and to the floor. Chubby gradually sat up, his head hanging and rolling. The cop turned to Harry and asked him how old he was. Perhaps Harry didnt understand the question, or perhaps it just got jumbled in his mind. He didnt know (nor would he remember later), but for some reason (if there was a reason) he said, 76 (still a hint of laughter that needed only to hear someone else laughing or for Chubby to turn and smile to revive it, and then theyd be back outside [I dont think we’re there now] and could start over again, go to CHARLIES) he heard the slap, then another. Still nothing, but vaguely aware that now the laughter was gone, yet still not understanding. He thought he remembered a sound. Or was that imagined?
   What do ya want us to do withem, Mark? The manager, upset at the slapping, looking at them on the floor, thinking of the reports that would have to be made, the explanations and reassurances given, if they were arrested… Nothing, Jim. They didnt break the urn. No real damage done. Just kick them out and forget about it.
   They were quickly jerked to their feet, taken out to the street and walked to the corner. They told Chubby to go up to 4th Avenue and Harry down to Ridge Boulevard. And if you give anybody any more trouble we’ll split your skulls open.
   Harry turned when he reached Ridge Boulevard and staggered over to the school steps and sat down. He rested his head on his hands then noticed the small smear of blood on his palm. He couldnt taste it, but it must be real. But it didnt make any sort of sense. There wasnt any fight. Just laughing. We werent even drunk… How? There wasnt even a beginning to go back to. I dont even know what time it is…
   He rubbed his face, the back of his neck, and looked at the tree a few feet in front of him and tried to find the sky. The red and amber traffic lights on the corner were blinking.
   He fumbled through his pockets looking for a cigarette but couldnt find any. O shit! SHIT!!
   He stared at the sidewalk for a moment, then slowly stood up, holding on to the fence, and started walking home…

Fortune Cookie

   Harry sat in a rear booth of the Chinese restaurant, alone and worried, toying with his chicken egg drop soup, occasionally eating a spoonful. The boss had not said anything to him directly, but he knew his time was coming… soon. He had not given Harry an ultimatum, but the looks and remarks—more than that, the feeling Harry got when he was around him, and was starting to get when he stepped into the office, and even over the phone, forced Harry to accept the fact that his time was coming. And he did not mean a feeling of anxiety. Harry knew what that felt like. He should, he had been living with it all his life and lately it had been getting worse by the day… day? Krist, it was getting worse by the hour and right now by the minute. It was more than anxiety, it was a realization.
   A salesman sells. It is that simple. A salesman sells and when he doesnt he is not a salesman and who needs a salesman who is not selling. Firms do not carry non-selling salesmen for long. Actually he was lucky they carried him this long, even giving him his draw. But last week was his last draw and today could be his last chance. No sale today and… he stared at the soup for a minute, then pushed it away from him, the waiter quickly picking it up and replacing it with a dish of food. Harry moved his mouth into a quick smile then took a deep breath and started mixing the soy sauce into his chow mein.
   He had to make that sale today. He had no choice. It was do or die… the knot in his stomach quickly started gnawing its way up to his throat and Harry took a deep breath and tried to relax, at least enough to eat. He ate some food and tried a little positive thinking. After all, he can do it. He can make this sale. He’ll just go in there, smile and relax, and let the product, and the customer, do the selling. Right! Thats all there is—but Ive been doing that for months and still no order. The chow mein looked heavy and soggy. But I lit another candle this morning and prayed and made the stations of the cross and I cant fail with all -but Ive been doing that for months too. He took another deep breath and tried to relax… then took a few mouthfuls of food. Cant get all caught up in superstition—not that praying is superstition, but I mean all that business about a lucky tie or suit… have to forget all about that… Yeah, even if I had a lucky tie or suit. Pretty soon I might not have a suit or tie—this is ridiculous. This suit and tie are just as lucky as any I have. He shrugged, Ive lost as many sales with them as with any other suit and tie… he chuckled inwardly and even smiled and turned his attention to the food for a while, the noodles seeming to be a little crispier. The knot of anxiety started growing and travelling again and he suddenly thought of his shoes, maybe these are my lucky shoes, and he started his silent chuckling again and kept the anxiety enough in control to finish most of his chow mein.
   The waiter quickly cleared away the plates and brought a fortune cookie and the check. Harry played with the cookie for a few minutes, tapping it on the table, then eventually, almost absentmindedly, he broke it open and tugged the fortune out and glanced at it, the words not getting through his preoccupation at first, but a glimmer of something registered and he looked carefully at the fortune: Take courage, today is your day for success. He nodded his head, Yeah… sure. Then he stopped frowning and read it again and straightened, Why not? Why shouldnt it be my day? It has to be somebodys day and Ive had enough losers. Yeah… thats right, Ive had enough losers This can be my day as well as anyone elses…. Thats right… absolutely right. They need our material and they may just as well buy it from us as anyone else. We’re just as good as anyone and better than most. And we can deliver on time. Thats the big thing in this industry, guaranteed delivery as well as guaranteed quality. And we have it… all! Hed be doing himself and his firm a favor to place the order with us. Youre damn right! Harry nodded his head emphatically and reached in his pocket for his money, then stopped and reached instead for his credit cards, the ones he had been afraid to use for many months, and dropped one on the tray with the check and sat back, relaxed, exhilarated. He smiled broadly as he added a generous tip, then signed the slip with a slight flourish. He pocketed his card and stepped briskly from the restaurant.
   His appointment with Mr. Dasher went smoothly and was successful beyond all expectations. Harry seemed to speak at exactly the right time and say exactly the right thing and was quiet at exactly the right time in the right way, listening intently and exuding an aura of relaxation and confidence. His whole attitude was one of having already made the sale and he was here to simply help Mr. Dasher in whatever way he could. At the end of their meeting Mr. Dasher was as happy as Harry and their final handshake and words were extremely cordial. Harry knew he had a lifetime customer.
   Harry of course was elated as he headed back to the office with the signed order, so happy over making the sale he did not stop to figure out what his commission would be. When the thought did enter his mind he quickly shrugged it off knowing he would probably still be behind on his advances anyway. And he did not want to ruin the way he felt by thinking about the state of his finances. He had made a sale, a big sale. That was the important thing. He had broken his losing streak. He was a winner and for that he was grateful.
   As soon as he gave the order to the proper people in the office he called his boss and told him. At first Mr. Wells sounded surprised, but that quickly changed to a tone of delight, Thats wonderful, Harry. Congratulations. I knew you could do it. Harry beamed and leaned back in his chair, nodding his head and thanking Mr. Wells for the compliments. He hung up and just sat for a few minutes allowing that good feeling to flow through him… then called his wife and told her the good news.
   Harry sat quietly for a few more minutes, then looked at his watch, and started calling and making appointments, having no trouble getting appointments with the people and before he stopped his calendar was filled for the next couple of weeks.
   Harry lit a candle the following morning, not wanting to break any part of the routine that led to the previous days success, but his attitude was different. He did not kneel and beg like a condemned man going through a ritual for the sake of propriety, knowing all along that it was useless and he would be led to the gallows anyway, but rather like a friend bringing a feeling of gratitude for the gift he knew he would be receiving.
   Naturally Harry had lunch in the same restaurant. He was even going to order chicken egg drop soup and chow mein, but thought it safe to deviate slightly and have won ton soup and sub gum chow mein. The big difference today was again his attitude. He sat at a small table in the middle of the restaurant, smiling, and ate the food with deep enjoyment and relish.