Song of the Silent Snow

Hubert Selby Jr.

Song of the Silent Snow

To my wife Suza

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. Da

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 di

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 di

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 Joh