Free Call It Sleep by Henry Roth Page A

thigh. His mother! What did she want?
    â€œI don’t like it,” he faltered. “I don’t like ice cream.”
    The fingers of the same hand tapped his knees ever so lightly. He had said the right thing.
    â€œNo? Tutti frutti ice cream? Candy then, you like that?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI think it’s a little too late for him to have either,” said his mother.
    â€œWell, I guess we won’t buy any then, since he’s going to bed soon.” Luter looked at his watch. “This is just the time I put him to bed last time, wasn’t it, my David?”
    â€œYes,” he hesitated fearful of blundering.
    â€œI suppose he’s sleepy now,” Luter suggested encouragingly.
    â€œHe doesn’t look sleepy,” his mother, smoothed the hair back from his brow. “His eyes are still wide and bright.”
    â€œI’m not sleepy.” That, at least, was true. He had never been so strangely stirred, never had he felt so near an abyss.
    â€œWe’ll let you stay up awhile then.”
    There was a short space of silence. Luter frowned, emitted a faint smacking sound from the side of his mouth. “You don’t seem to have any of the usual womanly instincts.”
    â€œDon’t I? It seems to me that I keep pretty closely to the well-trodden path.”
    â€œCuriosity, for instance.”
    â€œI had already lost that even before my marriage.”
    â€œYou only imagine it. But don’t misunderstand me, I merely meant curiosity about the package I left behind. It must be clear to you that I didn’t get what’s in it for my relatives’ sake.”
    â€œWell, you’d better give it to them now.”
    â€œNot so soon.” And when she didn’t answer, he shrugged, arose from the chair and got into his coat. “Hate me for it if I say it again, but you’re a comely woman. This time though I won’t forget my package.” He reached for the door-knob, turned. “But I may still come for dinner tomorrow?”
    She laughed. “If you still haven’t tired of my cooking.”
    â€œNot yet.” And chuckling. “Good-night. Good-night, little one. It must be a joy to have such a son.” He went out.
    With a wry smile on her lips, she listened to the sound of his retreating steps. Then her brow puckered in disdain. “All are called men!” She sat for a moment gazing before her with troubled eyes. Presently her brow cleared; she tilted her head and peered into David’s eyes. “Are you worried about anything? Your look is so intent.”
    â€œI don’t like him,” he confessed.
    â€œWell, he’s gone now,” she said reassuringly. Let’s forget about him. We won’t even tell father he came, will we?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œLet’s go to bed then, it grows late.”
    VII
    ANOTHER week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it. The hidden tongue sprang into its groove.
    â€œOh, what nonsense!” She unlocked it again, looked up at the light and then at the windows.
    David felt himself growing uneasy. Why did Thursdays have to roll around so soon? He was beginning to hate them as much as he did Sundays.
    â€œWhy must they make proof of everything before they’re satisfied?” Her lips formed and unformed a frown. “Well, there’s nothing to do but go. I’ll wash those dishes later.” She opened the door and turned out the light.
    Bewildered, David followed her into the cold, gas-lit hallway.
    â€œWe’re going upstairs to Mrs. Mink.” She cast a hurried look over the bannister. “You can play with your friend Yussie.”
    David wondered why she needed to bring that up. He hadn’t said anything about wanting to play with Yussie. In fact, he didn’t even feel like it. Why