Benny didn’t say anything. He stepped in and Jim had to stand aside and let him pass. She was just starting over to the archway from the couch when Benny walked into the parlor. He didn’t say anything to her either; he simply stood with his hands in his overcoat pockets looking at her. He didn’t even take off his hat. He couldn’t, not without letting her see how his hands were shaking. Keeping his hand gripped on the gun kept it steady, and the other hand a tight fist in his pocket. There wasn’t any reason for them to be shaking; he wasn’t afraid of anything. It wasn’t because he was afraid his voice would shake that he didn’t speak; it wasn’t that at all. It was that he didn’t have anything to say to them. Keeping his mouth shut was easy. Nan started talking the minute he came in.
She was mad. Her eyes were like sparklers and her words came out of her mouth like little spits of lead. He’d seen her mad before but just a little bit, kind of cute. This was different. If he hadn’t been bigger than she, she’d have used her fists on him. If he hadn’t had a gun …She didn’t know about the gun. But he could hardly hear what she was saying from looking at her. Because she was so pretty she was like a lump in his heart, so little and soft and her cheeks bright and her mouth …His hand was so tight on the gun that his fingers ached like his heart. He set his teeth together tight as his knuckles so that his head hurt too, so that all the hurts could fuse and he could keep from thinking about the bad one, the inside one. So he wouldn’t cry. He wanted to cry, to bawl like a kid. But he wouldn’t, not with Jim standing there like he owned the parlor, like he was the head of the house waiting to see what this peddler wanted.
She was saying, “What are you doing here, Benny? You knew very well I was busy tonight. I told you that. What’s the idea of coming here when I told you I was busy? And at this time of night?” He had a feeling she’d been saying it over and over again.
She was funny sputtering out words that way and not having any idea why he was here or what he was going to do. He wanted to laugh at her, to laugh and laugh until he doubled up from laughing. As if he’d eaten green apples. But he didn’t. He just stood there listening to her until Jim said, “Shush, Nan.” Said it sharp, like he was giving orders to a soldier.
Benny turned his eyes over to Jim then. The way Jim had said it you’d have thought he was nervous. You’d have thought he knew why Benny had come and that he didn’t want to have it happen, to be shown up in front of Nan.
Jim said, “Why don’t you take off your things and join us, Benny? We’re just sitting around waiting for Nan’s folks to get home from the club.”
As if he didn’t know what they were doing. As if he hadn’t known all evening every minute what they were doing. From when Jim got there at seven and she tied an apron around his waist and let him help drip the batter on the griddle. Right through every minute of it. Sitting down together in the breakfast nook and her saying, “Isn’t this fun? Like —” and breaking off and looking embarrassed. That’s the way she was, nice, sort of shy, not like most girls who’d say anything and never be embarrassed.
Jim said, “Come on, Benny, take off your hat and coat. We’ll have some jive. I brought Nan some new records tonight. There’s a swell new Tatum — have you heard it?”
Shaming him because he never brought any records to Nan. He’d have brought them if he’d thought of it. He’d just never thought of it. Nan always had the new records.
Jim didn’t stop talking. He kept on like Benny was a little kid, coaxing him. “— let me have your coat. How about having a Coke with us?”
Hero Jim. Asking Benny to have a Coke like he was still a high school kid instead of a man. Hero Jim, the plaster saint, acting like he’d never had a slug of gin. Trying to make her think he was a Galahad and Benny a no-good bum.
“—I was just telling Nan we hadn’t seen you for a long time. Wondered what happened to you. Why you didn’t come around.”
Yeah. Sure. Rubbing salt in the wounds. That’s what he learned in Korea. Scrub salt in the bleeding. Acting like it was his house. Acting like he and Nan were married. Trying to show Benny up for the outsider. Talking and talking, so sure of himself, so big and brave and handsome and sure of himself.
Nan stopped Jim. Stopped him by breaking in with a hard icy crust of anger around her soft red mouth.
“What do you want, Benny?” she asked. Hard and cold and cruel. “If you have anything to say, say it and get out. If you haven’t, get out!” Her voice was like a whip.
Jim cried, “Nan!” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t have said that, Nan.” He was talking to her soft now, like she was the child. “It wasn’t right to say that. Benny’s come to see you —”
“I told him I wouldn’t see him tonight.” She didn’t bend to Jim. She was too mad. “He knew I was busy tonight.” She turned her eyes again on Benny. They weren’t like Nan’s eyes, they were black like hate. “I’ll tell him now to his face what I told you.” The words came from her frozen mouth, each one like a whip. “I don’t ever want to see you again. Now get out.”
“Nan,” Jim cried again. His voice wasn’t steady. It was shaky. “Oh, Nan!” He twisted some kind of a smile at Benny. “Come on, Benny, sit down and let’s talk everything over. Nan didn’t mean it. We’re all friends. We’ve been friends for years. Sit down and have a Coke —”
Benny brought his hand out of his pocket then. He had a smile on his face too, he could feel it there. It hurt his mouth. He had a little trouble getting his hand out of his pocket. Getting it out and holding on to that thing at the same time. But it came out and the gun was still in his hand.
Jim saw it. Jim saw it and he had sweat on his upper lip and above his eyebrows. He was yellow. Just like Benny had known he’d be. Yellow. Korea Jim, Hero Jim, was scared to death.
Jim’s voice didn’t sound scared. It was quiet and calm and easy. “Where did you get that, Benny? Let me see it, will you?”
Benny didn’t say anything. He just held the gun and Jim put his hand down to his side again, slowly, creakingly.
The sweat was trickling down Jim’s nose. He laughed but it wasn’t a good laugh. “What do you want with a gun, Benny? You might hurt somebody if you aren’t careful with it. Let me see it, will you? Come on, let me have it.”
He’d had enough. Hero Jim, standing there like a gook, like he’d never seen a gun before and didn’t know what to do about it. Now was Benny’s time to laugh, but the gun made too much noise. Nobody could have heard him laughing with all that noise. Even if Nan hadn’t started screaming. Standing there, her eyes crazy and her face like an old woman’s, just screaming and screaming and screaming. He only turned the gun on her to make her keep quiet. He didn’t mean that she should fall down and spread on the floor like Jim. She shouldn’t have dropped like Jim. She had on her good blue dress. They looked silly, the two of them, like big sawdust dolls, crumpled there on the rug. Scared to death. Scared to get up. Scared even to look at him. That’s the way a hero acted when a real guy came around. Like a girl. Like a soft, silly girl. Lying down on his face, not moving a muscle, lying on his face like a dog.
They looked like shadows, the two of them, big shadows on the rug. When the gun clicked instead of blasting, Benny stopped laughing. The room was so quiet he could hear the beat of his heart. He didn’t like it so quiet. Not at all.
He said, “Get up.” He’d had enough of their wallowing, of their being scared.
“Get up.”
He said, “You look crazy lying there. Get up.” Suddenly he shrilled it.
“Get up.”
Louder. “Get up! Get up! Get up!”
Scared to death …scared to death …