carson mccullers - the heart is a lonely hunter-第23章

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worked　and　stand　by　him　a　couple　of　minutes—　but　when　she　
listened　to　him　her　mind　was　never　on　the84　

things　he　said　to　her。　Then　one　night　she　suddenly　realized　
about　her　Dad。　Nothing　unusual　happened　that　night　and　she　
didn't　know　what　it　was　that　made　her　understand。　Afterward　
she　felt　older　and　as　though　she　knew　him　as　good　as　she　
could　know　any　person。　
It　was　a　night　in　late　August　and　she　was　in　a　big　rush。　She　
had　to　be　at　this　house　by　nine　o'clock；　and　no　maybe　either。　
Her　Dad　called　and　she　went　into　the　front　room。　He　was　
sitting　slumped　over　his　workbench。　For　some　reason　it　never　
did　seem　natural　to　see　him　there。　Until　the　time　of　his　
accident　last　year　he　had　been　a　painter　and　carpenter。　Before　
daylight　every　morning　he　would　leave　the　house　in　his　


overalls；　to　be　gone　all　day。　Then　at　night　sometimes　he　
fiddled　around　with　clocks　as　an　extra　work。　A　lot　of　times　he　
had　tried　to　get　a　job　in　a　jewelry　store　where　he　could　sit　by　
himself　at　a　desk　all　day　with　a　clean　white　shirt　on　and　a　tie。　
Now　when　he　couldn't　carpenter　any　more　he　had　put　a　sign　at　
the　front　of　the　house　reading　'Clocks　and　Watches　Repaired　
Cheap。'　But　he　didn't　look　like　most　jewelers—the　ones　
downtown　were　quick；　dark　little　Jew　men。　Her　Dad　was　too　
tall　for　his　workbench；　and　his　big　bones　seemed　joined　
together　in　a　loose　way。　
Her　Dad　just　stared　at　her。　She　could　tell　he　didn't　have　any　
reason　for　calling。　He　only　wanted　real　bad　to　talk　to　her。　He　
tried　to　think　of　some　way　to　begin。　His　brown　eyes　were　too　
big　for　his　long；　thin　face；　and　since　he　had　lost　every　single　
hair　the　pale；　bald　top　of　his　head　gave　him　a　naked　look。　He　
stul　looked　at　her　without　speaking　and　she　was　in　a　hurry。　
She　had　to　be　at　that　house　by　nine　sharp　and　there　was　no　
time　to　waste。　Her　Dad　saw　she　was　in　a　hurry　and　he　cleared　
his　throat　
'I　got　something　for　you；'　he　said。　'Nothing　much；　but　maybe　
you　can　treat　yourself　with　it。'　
He　didn't　have　to　give　her　any　nickel　or　dime　just　because　he　
was　lonesome　and　wanted　to　talk。　Out　of　what　he　made　he　
only　kept　enough　to　have　beer　about　twice　a　week。　Two　
bottles　were　on　the　floor　by　his　chair　now；　one　empty　and　one　
just　opened。　And　whenever　he　drank　beer　he　liked　to　talk　to　
somebody。　Her　Dad　fumbled　with　his　belt　and　she　looked　
away。　This　summer　he　had　gotten　like　a　kid　about　hiding　those　
nickels　and　dimes　he　kept　for

　85　
himself。　Sometimes　he　hid　them　in　his　shoes；　and　other　times　
in　a　little　slit　he　had　cut　in　his　belt。　She　only　halfway　wanted　
to　take　the　dime；　but　when　he　held　it　out　her　hand　was　just　
naturally　open　and　ready。　
'I　got　so　much　work　to　do　I　don't　know　where　to　begin；'　
he　said。　
That　was　just　the　opposite　to　the　truth；　and　he　knew　it　good　as　
she　did。　He　never　had　many　watches　to　fix；　and　when　he　
finished　he　would　fool　around　the　house　doing　any　little　job　
that　was　needed。　Then　at　night　he　sat　at　his　bench；　cleaning　


old　springs　and　wheels　and　trying　to　make　the　work　last　out　
until　bedtime。　Ever　since　he　broke　his　hip　and　couldn't　work　
steady　he　had　to　be　doing　something　
every　minute。　
'I　been　thinking　a　lot　tonight；'　her　Dad　said。　He　poured　out　his　
beer　and　sprinkled　a　few　grains　of　salt　on　the　back　of　his　hand。　
Then　he　licked　up　the　salt　and　took　a　swallow　
out　of　the　glass。　
She　was　in　such　a　hurry　that　it　was　hard　to　stand　still。　Her　Dad　
noticed　this。　He　tried　to　say　something—but　he　had　not　called　
to　tell　her　anything　special。　He　only　wanted　to　talk　with　her　
for　a　little　while。　He　started　to　speak　and　swallowed。　They　just　
looked　at　each　other。　The　quietness　grew　out　longer　and　
neither　of　them　could　say　a　word。　
That　was　when　she　realized　about　her　Dad。　It　wasn't　like　she　
was　learning　a　new　fact—she　had　understood　it　all　along　in　
every　way　except　with　her　brain。　Now　she　just　suddenly　knew　
that　she　knew　about　her　Dad。　He　was　lonesome　and　he　was　an　
old　man。　Because　none　of　the　kids　went　to　him　for　anything　
and　because　he　didn't　earn　much　money　he　felt　like　he　was　cut　
off　from　the　family。　And　in　his　lonesomeness　he　wanted　to　be　
close　to　one　of　his　kids　—and　they　were　all　so　busy　that　they　
didn't　know　it。　He　felt　like　he　wasn't　much　real　use　to　
anybody。　
She　understood　this　while　they　were　looking　at　each　other。　It　
gave　her　a　queer　feeling。　Her　Dad　picked　up　a　watch　spring　
and　cleaned　it　with　a　brush　dipped　in　gasoline。　
'I　know　you're　in　a　hurry。　I　just　hollered　to　say　hello。'　*No；　I'm　
not　in　any　rush；'　she　said。　'Honest。'　That　night　she　sat　down　in　
a　chair　by　his　bench　and　they　talked　awhile。　He　talked　about　
accounts　and　expenses　and86　
how　things　would　have　been　if　he　had　just　managed　in　a　
different　way。　He　drank　beer；　and　once　the　tears　came　to　his　
eyes　and　he　snuffled　his　nose　against　his　shirt…sleeve。　She　
stayed　with　him　a　good　while　that　night。　Even　if　she　was　in　an　
awful　hurry。　Yet　for　some　reason　she　couldn't　tell　him　about　
the　things　in　her　mind—about　the　hot；　dark　nights。　
These　nights　were　secret；　and　of　the　whole　summer　they　were　
the　most　important　time。　In　the　dark　she　walked　by　herself　and　
it　was　like　she　was　the　only　person　in　the　town。　Almost　every　


street　came　to　be　as　plain　to　her　in　the　nighttime　as　her　own　
home　block。　Some　kids　were　afraid　to　walk　through　strange　
places　in　the　dark；　but　she　wasn't。　Girls　were　scared　a　man　
would　come　out　from　somewhere　and　put　his　teapot　in　them　
like　they　was　married。　Most　girls　were　nuts。　If　a　person　the　
size　of　Joe　Louis　or　Mountain　Man　Dean　would　jump　out　at　
her　and　want　to　fight　she　would　run。　But　if　it　was　somebody　
within　twenty　pounds　her　weight　she　would　give　him　a　good　
sock　and　go　right　on。　
The　nights　were　wonderful；　and　she　didn't　have　time　to　think　
about　such　things　as　being　scared。　Whenever　she　was　in　the　
dark　she　thought　about　music。　While　she　walked　along　the　
streets　she　would　sing　to　herself。　And　she　felt　like　the　whole　
town　listened　without　knowing　it　was　Mick　Kelly。　
She　learned　a　lot　about　music　during　these　free　nights　in　the　
summer…time。　When　she　walked　out　in　the　rich　parts　of　town　
every　house　had　a　radio。　All　the　windows　were　open　and　she　
could　hear　the　music　very　marvelous。　After　a　while　she　knew　
which　houses　tuned　in　for　the　programs　she　wanted　to　hear。　
There　was　one　special　house　that　got　all　the　good　orchestras。　
And　at　night　she　would　go　to　this　house　and　sneak　into　the　
dark　yard　to　listen。　There　was　beautiful　shrubbery　around　this　
house；　and　she　would　sit　under　a　bush　near　the　window。　And　
after　it　was　all　over　she　would　stand　in　the　dark　yard　with　her　
hands　in　her　pockets　and　think　for　a　long　time。　That　was　the　
realest　part　of　all　the　summer—her　listening　to　this　music　on　
the　radio　and　studying　about　it　
'Cerra　fa　puerta；　senor'　Mick　said。　

87　
Bubber　was　sharp　as　a　briar。　'Haga　me　usted　el　favor；　
senorita；'　he　answered　as　a　comeback。　
It　was　grand　to　take　Spanish　at　Vocational。　There　was　
something　about　speaking　in　a　foreign　language　that　made　her　
feel　like　she'd　been　around　a　lot。　Every　afternoon　since　school　
had　started　she　had　fun　speaking　the　new　Spanish　words　and　
sentences。　At　first　Bubber　was　stumped；　and　it　was　funny　to　
watch　his　face　while　she　talked　the　foreign　language。　Then　he　
caught　on　in　a　hurry；　and　before　long　he　could　copy　
everything　she　said。　He　remembered　the　words　he　learned；　
too。　Of　course　he　didn't　know　what　all　the　sentences　meant；　


but　she　didn't　say　them　for　the　sense　they　made；　anyway。　After　
a　while　the　kid　learned　so　fast　she　gave　out　of　Spanish　and　just　
gabbled　along　with　made…up　sounds。　But　it　wasn't　long　before　
he　caught　her　out　at　that—nobody　could　put　a　thing　over　on　
old　Bubber　Kelly。　
'I'm　going　to　pretend　like　I'm　walking　into　this　house　for　the　
first　time；'　Mick　said。　'Then　I　can　tell　better　if　all　the　
decorations　look　good　or　not。'　
She　walked　out　on　the　front　porch　and　then　came　back　and　
stood　in　the　hall。　All　day　she　and　Bubber　and　Portia　and　her　
Dad　had　been　fixing　the　hall　and　the　dining…room　for　the　
party。　The　decoration　was　autumn　leaves　and　vines　and　red　
crepe　paper。　On　the　mantelp