More Than Human

Hip laughed. ‘No sale!’ He squatted beside the boy. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. Will you haul it away for a dollar?’

No response. The boy sucked his corncob and kept watching Janie.

‘Tough customer,’ gri

Suddenly Janie shuddered. ‘Oh, let’s leave him alone,’ she said, her merriment gone.

‘He can’t outbid me,’ said Hip cheerfully. He set the statue down by the boy’s scuffed shoes and pushed a dollar bill into the rip which looked most like a pocket. ‘Pleasure to do business with you, sir,’ he said and followed Janie, who had already moved off.

‘Regular chatterbox,’ laughed Hip as he caught up with her. He looked back. Half a block away, the child still stared at Janie. ‘Looks like you’ve made a lifelong impress – Janie!’

Janie had stopped dead, eyes wide and straight ahead, mouth a triangle of shocked astonishment. ‘The little devil! ‘ she breathed. ‘At his age!’ She whirled and looked back.

Hip’s eyes obviously deceived him for he saw the corncob leave the grubby little hands, turn ninety degrees and thump the urchin smartly on the cheekbone. It dropped to the ground; the child backed away four paces, shrilled an unchivalrous presumption and an unprintable suggestion at them and disappeared into an alley.

‘Whew!’ said Hip, awed. ‘You’re so right!’ He looked at her admiringly. ‘What clever ears you have, grandma,’ he said, not very successfully covering an almost prissy embarrassment with badinage. ‘I didn’t hear a thing until the second broadside he threw.’

‘Didn’t you?’ she said. For the first time he detected a

She smiled and everything was all right again.

Succulent pizza and cold beer in a booth painted a too-bright, edge-worn green. A happy-weary walk through the darkening booths to the late bus which waited, breathing. A sense of membership because of the fitting of the spine to the calculated average of the bus seats. A shared doze, a shared smile, at sixty miles an hour through the flickering night, and at last the familiar depot on the familiar street, echoing and empty but my street in my town.

They woke a taxi driver and gave him their address. ‘ Can I be more alive than this?’ he murmured from his corner and then realized she had heard him. ‘I mean,’ he amended, ‘it’s as if my whole world, everywhere I lived, was once in a little place inside my head, so deep I couldn’t see out. And then you made it as big as a room and then as big as a town and tonight as big as… well, a lot bigger,’ he finished weakly.

A lonely passing streetlight passed her answering smile over to him. He said, ‘So I was wondering how much bigger it can get.’

‘Much bigger,’ she said.

He pressed back sleepily into the cushions. ‘I feel fine,’ he murmured. ‘I feel… Janie,’ he said in a strange voice, ‘I feel sick.’

‘You know what that is,’ she said calmly.

A tension came and went within him and he laughed softly. ‘Him again. He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’ll never make me sick again. Driver!’

His voice was like soft wood tearing. Startled, the driver slammed on his brakes. Hip surged forward out of his seat and caught the back of the driver under his armpit. ‘Go back,’ he said excitedly.

‘Goddlemighty,’ the driver muttered. He began to turn the cab around. Hip turned to Janie, an answer, some sort of answer, half formed, but she had no question. She sat quietly and waited. To the driver Hip said, ‘Just the next block. Yeah, here. Left. Turn left.’

He sank back then, his cheek to the window glass, his eyes raking the shadowed houses and black lawns. After a time he said, ‘There. The house with the driveway, there where the big hedge is.’

‘Want I should drive in?’

‘No,’ Hip said.’ Pull over. A little farther… there, where I can see in.’

When the cab stopped, the driver turned around and peered back. ‘Gettin’ out here? That’s a dollar ’n – ’

‘Shh!’ The sound came so explosively that the driver sat stu

Hip stared through the driveway’s gap in the hedge at the faintly gleaming white house, its stately porch and porte-cochere, its neat shutters and fanlit door.

‘Take us home,’ he said after a time.

Nothing was said until they got there. Hip sat with one hand pressing his temples, covering his eyes. Janie’s corner of the cab was dark and silent.

When the machine stopped Hip slid out and absently handed Janie to the walk. He gave the driver a bill, accepting the change, pawed out a tip and handed it back. The cab drove off.

Hip stood looking down at the money in his hand, sliding it around on his palm with his fingers. ‘Janie?’

‘Yes, Hip.’

He looked at her. He could hardly see her in the darkness. ‘Let’s go inside.’

They went in. He switched on the lights. She took off her hat and hung her bag on the bedpost and sat down on the bed, her hands on her lap. Waiting.

He seemed blind, so deep was his introspection. He came awake slowly, his gaze fixed on the money in his hand. For a moment it seemed without meaning to him; then slowly, visibly, he recognized it and brought it into his thoughts, into his expression. He closed his hand on it, shook it, brought it to her and spread it out on the night table – three crumpled bills, some silver.’ It isn’t mine,’ he said.

‘Of course it is!’

He shook his head tiredly. ‘No it isn’t. None of it’s been mine. Not the roller coaster money or the shopping money or coffee in the mornings or… I suppose there’s rent here.’

She was silent.

‘That house,’ he said detachedly. ‘The instant I saw it I knew I’d been there before. I was there just before I got arrested. I didn’t have any money then. I remember. I knocked on the door and I was dirty and crazy and they told me to go around the back if I wanted something to eat. I didn’t have any money; I remember that so well. All I had was…’

Out of his pocket came the woven metal tube. He caught lamplight on its side, flicked it off again, squeezed it, then pointed with it at the night table. ‘Now, ever since I came here, I have money. In my left jacket pocket every day. I never wondered about it. It’s your money, isn’t it; Janie?’

‘It’s yours. Forget about it, Hip. It’s not important.’

‘What do you mean it’s mine?’ he barked.’ Mine because you give it to me?’ He probed her silence with a bright beam of anger and nodded. ‘Thought so.’

‘Hip!’

He shook his head, suddenly, violently, the only expression he could find at the moment for the great tearing wind which swept through him. It was anger, it was humiliation, it was a deep futility and a raging attack on the curtains which shrouded his self-knowledge. He slumped down into the easychair and put his hands over his face.

He sensed her nearness, then her hand was on his shoulder. ‘Hip…’ she whispered. He shrugged the shoulder and the hand was gone. He heard the faint sound of springs as she sat down again on the bed.

He brought his hands down slowly. His face was twisted, hurt. ‘You’ve got to understand, I’m not mad at you, I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done, it isn’t that,’ he blurted. ‘I’m all mixed up again,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Doing things, don’t know why. Things I got to do, I don’t know what. Like…’ He stopped to think, to sort the thousand scraps that whirled and danced in the wind which blew through him. ‘Like knowing this is wrong, I shouldn’t be here, getting fed, spending money, but I don’t know who ever said I shouldn’t, where I learned it. And… and like what I told you, this thing about finding somebody and I don’t know who it is and I don’t know why. I said tonight…’ He paused and for a long moment filled the room with the hiss of breath between his teeth, his tense-curled lips. ‘ I said tonight, my world… the place I live, it’s getting bigger all the time. It just now got big enough to take in that house where we stopped. We passed that corner and I knew the house was there and I had to look at it. I knew I’d been there before, dirty and all excited… knocked… they told me to go around back… I yelled at them… somebody else came. I asked them, I wanted to know about some – ’