Free Place in the City by Howard Fast Page B

Minnie was a blond, very pretty, too, and smiling at him like she had always known him.
    â€œThis is Tommy,” Minnie said, “and this is Lillian.”
    Thomas was sucking his finger, looking at her, and grinning at the same time.
    â€œHe’s a nice boy, Lil, so you just see that you treat him right, like I told you.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œG’wan, Tommy, and don’t you be ashamed of nothing you do. Go ahead.”
    â€œThanks, Minnie,” he managed to say.
    â€œDon’t mention it.”
    Later, when he came down, Minnie was waiting for him. He grinned when she asked him whether he had enjoyed himself, and then he gave her the dollar and a half.
    â€œThere ain’t no hurry for you to go,” Minnie told him. “Why don’t you sit down and rest up before you go out into the cold.”
    â€œNo—I’d better get going.”
    â€œWell, come again, Tommy. You know you’re always welcome, don’t you? You come again, and see if you don’t like it better the second time.”
    â€œYeah—maybe.”
    â€œI’ll get your hat and coat.”
    â€œYeah.”
    He was more sorry for the dollar and a half than for anything else. Now he wanted to get away from the house quickly, and without being seen. Minnie was fat; it sickened him when she patted his cheeks. He plunged out of the house and almost fell going down the steps.
    Then he stopped abruptly. Out of the snow, a broad figure had come like a ghost, and now he was staring into the hard, red face of his father.
    â€œThomas!”
    He whirled to run, brought himself up short, and stood there facing his father. Placing his hands in his pockets, he attempted to be defiant; but he knew he was making a mess out of it.
    â€œThomas!”
    â€œAwright—everyone else does. Why shouldn’t I?”
    â€œThomas, come here!”
    Shambling close to his father, he expected any moment to feel his fist; he wanted to. He wanted to feel the blow smack against his flesh, carry him off his feet into the snow. That would be better than words. What was the use of standing there talking, when his father didn’t understand?
    â€œYou were in that house?”
    â€œYes—”
    â€œKnowing what I think of Shutzey and his place, you went in there. Knowing what I think of women of that ilk, you went in there. Jesus Christ, that I should have to call you my son! Now you’re rotten with sin, and how do you know but that the maggots of disease are not crawling in your blood?”
    â€œNo—no—I didn’t—”
    â€œDon’t stain your lips now with a dirty lie. It is bad enough that those lips should have to kiss your mother. It is bad enough that you should walk into my house with the tread of a decent man!”
    â€œWhat’d I do?”
    â€œâ€”You dirty whoremonger, asking me what you have done! You dirty little cheap swine! You’re my son. You’re what I’ve worked for all these years. Sure—bow your head—it’s not fit to look into the eyes of a decent man.”
    All of a sudden, Thomas was calm; he felt that he was growing, becoming big, very big. He wanted to smile; later he would smile. Now he wanted to put his arms around his father, hold him tight and put his head on his shoulder. But he couldn’t say anything.
    â€œWell—answer me!”
    â€œWhy—you won’t believe me.”
    â€œHold your tongue!”
    â€œNo—if I want to talk—”
    O’Lacy’s fist caught his son in the mouth. Thomas had been expecting the blow, and when it came he was glad for the hurt of it. Suddenly, his legs were unable to support him, and he crumpled into the snow; there was snow in his eyes, in his face and his mouth.
    And while he lay there, he heard his father’s footsteps vanishing into the night. Still, the thought in his mind was that he would like to put his arms around his father, hold him