“But he must a been sufferin from a hangover when he shaped me, huh? His hands was shaky that day. And he gave up after a while and never bothered to finish me but went on down to the corner for some a the hair a the dog that bit him.”
Suddenly, tears filled Dorothys eyes.
“You shouldn’t feel that way. You’ve got beauty, sensitivity, a genuine feeling, under…”
“Under this?” he said, pointing his finger at his face. “Sure. Forget it. Anyway, look at these green buds on these baby roses. Pretty, huh? Fresh with promise a the beauty to come. They’re shaped like the breasts a young virgins.” He look a step toward her and put his arm around her shoulders.
She put her hands on his chest and gently tried to shove herself away.
“Please,” she whispered, “please, don’t. Not after you’ve shown me how fine you really can be.”
“What do you mean?” he said, not releasing her. “Ain’t what I want to do with you just as fine and beautiful a thin as this rose here? And if you really feel for me, you’d want to let your flesh say what your mind thinks. Like the flowers when they open up for the sun.”
She shook her head. “No. It can’t be. Please. I feel terrible because I can’t say yes. But I can’t. I—you—there’s too much diff—”
“Sure, we’re diff’runt. Coin in diff’runt directions and then, comin roun the corner—bam!—we run into each other, and we wrap ours arms aroun each other to keep from fallin.”
He pulled her to him so her face was pressed against his chest.
“See!” he rumbled. “Like this. Now, breathe deep. Don’t turn your head. Sniff away. Lock yourself to me, like we was glued and nothin could pull us apart. Breathe deep. I got my arm aroun you, like these trees roun these flowers. I’m not hurtin you: I’m givin you life and protectin you. Right? Breathe deep.”
“Please,” she whimpered. “Don’t hurt me. Gently…” i
“Gently it is. I won’t hurt you. Not too much. That’s right, don’t hold yourself stiff against me, like you’re stone. That’s right, melt like butter. I’m not forcin you, Dor’thy, remember that. You want this, don’t you?”
“Don’t hurt me,” she whispered. “You’re so strong, oh my God, so strong.”
For two days, Dorothy did not appear at the Paleys‘. The third morning, in an effort to fire her courage, she downed two double shots of VO. before breakfast. When she drove to the dumpheap, she told the two women that she had not been feeling well. But she had returned because she wanted to finish her study, as it was almost at an end and her superiors were anxious to get her report.
Paley, though he did not smile when he saw her, said nothing. However, he kept looking at her out of the corners of his eyes when he thought she was watching him. And though he took the hat in its cage with him, he sweated and shook as before while crossing streets. Dorothy sat staring straight ahead, unresponding to the few remarks he did make. Finally, cursing under his breath, he abandoned his effort to work as usual and drove to the hidden garden.
“Here we are,” he said. “Adam and Eve returnin to Eden.”
He peered from beneath the bony ridges of his brows at the sky. “We better hurry in. Looks as if The Old Guy got up on the wrong side a the bed. There’s gonna be a storm.”
“I’m not going in there with you,” said Dorothy. “Not now or ever.”
“Even after what we did, even if you said you loved me, I still make you sick?” he said. “You sure din’t act then like Old Ugly made you sick.”
“I haven’t been able to sleep for two nights,” she said tonelessly. “I’ve asked myself a thousand times why I did it. And each time I could only tell myself I didn’t know. Something seemed to leap from you to me and take me over. I was powerless.”
“It’s no use talking,” she said. “You’ll never get a chance again. And take your hand off me. It makes my flesh crawl.”
He dropped his hand.
“All right. Back to business. Back to pickin peoples piles a junk. Let’s get out a here. Forget what I said. Forget this garden, too. Forget the secret I told you. Don’t tell nobody. The dump-heapers’d laugh at me. Imagine Old Man Paley, the one-armed candidate for the puzzle factory, the fugitive from the Old Stone Age, growin peonies and roses! Big laugh, huh?”
Dorothy did not reply. He started the truck and, as they emerged onto the alley, they saw the sun disappear behind the clouds. The rest of the day, it did not come out, and Old Man and Dorothy did not speak to each other.
As they were going down Route 24 after unloading at the junkdealer’s, they were stopped by a patrolman. He ticketed Paley for not having a chauffeurs license and made Paley follow him downtown to court. There Old Man had to pay a fine of twenty-five dollars. This, to everybody’s amazement, he produced from his pocket.
As if that weren’t enough, he had to endure the jibes of the police and the courtroom loafers. Evidently he had appeared in the police station before and was known as King Kong, Alley Oop, or just plain Chimp. Old Man trembled, whether with suppressed rage or nervousness Dorothy could not tell. But later, as Dorothy drove him home, he almost frothed at the mouth in a tremendous outburst of rage. By the time they were within sight of his shanty, he was shouting that his life savings had been wiped out and that it was all a plot by the G’yaga to beat him down to starvation.
It was then that the truck’s motor died. Cursing, Old Man jerked the hood open so savagely that one rusty hinge broke. Further enraged by this, he tore the hood completely off and threw it away into the ditch by the roadside. Unable to find the cause of the breakdown, he took a hammer from the toolchest and began to beat the sides of the truck.
“I’ll make her go, go, go!” he shouted. “Or she’ll wish she had! Run, you bitch, purr, eat gasoline, rumble your damn belly and eat gasoline but run, run, run! Or your ex-lover, Old Man, sells you for junk, I swear it!”
Undaunted, Fordiana did not move.
Eventually, Paley and Dorothy had to leave the truck by the ditch and walk home. And as they crossed the heavily traveled highway to get to the dumpheap, Old Man was forced to jump to keep from getting hit by a car.
He shook his fist at the speeding auto.
“I know you’re out to get me!” he howled. “But you won’t! You been tryin for fifty thousand years, and you ain’t made it yet! We’re still fightin!”
At that moment, the black sagging bellies of the clouds overhead ruptured. The two were soaked before they could take four steps. Thunder bellowed, and lightning slammed into the earth on the other end of the dumpheap. Old Man growled with fright, but seeing he was untouched, he raised his fist to the sky.
Dripping, the two entered the shanty, where he opened a quart of beer and began drinking. Deena took Dorothy behind a curtain and gave her a towel to dry herself with and one of her white terrycloth robes to put on. By the time Dorothy came out from behind the curtain, she found Old Man opening his third quart. He was accusing Deena of not frying the fish correctly, and when she answered him sharply, he began accusing her of every fault, big or small, real or imaginary, of which he could think. In fifteen minutes, he was nailing the portrait of her mother to the wall with its face inward. And she was whimpering behind the stove and tenderly stroking the spots where he had struck her. Gummy protested, and he chased her out into the rain.
Dorothy at once put her wet clothes on and announced she was leaving. She’d walk the mile into town and catch the bus.