PULL DOWN VANITYI
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him, just unawakened-a Landon man, Amsterdam! He taught me the
score politically, every way. I was a real hick until I met him-a Jew–
a J ew professor!"
"You'd like Professor Alexander."
" 'Of a lineage once abhorred, nor yet redeemed from scorn!'" As
I said the line, Fenton had found his own touchstone, waving one hand
at the three of us grouped together across the room from him, and
repeating at us in contempt, "'What are all these fish that lie gasping
on the strand?' 'What are all these fish that lie gasping on the strand?'"
while Hank kept repeating, "I love that man, Amsterdam. I'm his
son,
really. God damn it! Sometimes I wish to Christ I were a Jew!"
And Judith responded, "Oh, but I do always. For myself, I mean.
When I was little I wanted to be a boy, but ever since I reached fifteen
I've wanted that other. To be born again-a Jew and an Easterner.
They're so far
ahead!
I always feel that I'm limping along behind like
the little lame girl in the story, that the mountain will close before I
get there!"
"And I wish I were asleep." Fenton rose, a little stiffly, and I
realized for the first time how small he was, even smaller than
I.
"By
God, perhaps I am!" He was obviously annoyed, perhaps a little ill,
too. "I'm sorry but I just can't stay awake. Please don't bother."
But Judith had started to walk him to the door, pulling me up
beside her as she went. "You come, too, Mr. Amsterdam-and say good
night like a good boy."
We stood for a little while side by side just outside the door,
watching Fenton stump off with his scarcely noticeable limp. Watching
him move, I felt young, almost as young as Judith. The air was no cooler
really than inside the house, but I had a sense of relief at being away
from the smell of the baby and the partly burned dinner, away from
Hank.
"Are you sorry you came along?" she asked. "I felt the need for
some protection. The night he arrived that vain old man made a pass
at me. See, there's the moon!" And there it was, indeed, looking very
unconvincing above the back yard in which four iron poles rose out
of a rubble of seared grass and empty beercans, and a score of diapers
hung motionless in the oppressive dark. Judith had pressed up almost
against me, her breasts bobbling just under my nose as she lurched a
little uncertainly; she was considerably taller than
I.
My mouth was on
the level of her long, obviously proffered neck, and I kissed her there,
feeling the muscle and cartilage move with the movement of her breath
under the smooth, salty flesh.
"I like the way you taste," I said foolishly, pulling her the final
