"Goodis, David - The Burglar" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goodis David)

They worked their way out of the room. He was on his knees, on the cot, tearing the sheets, ripping them until they were scraggly ribbons. He fell on his side, rolled off the cot, hit the table so that it went off balance and the gems splattered on the floor. He was on the floor among the emeralds, his flesh touching them without feeling them. He closed his eyes and heard voices in the hall. Dohmer's voice was loud, getting louder against the loudness of Baylock's voice. Gladden yelled something he couldn't make out, but he knew what was happening. He wanted to remain there on the floor and let it grow and let it finally happen. He picked himself up from the floor, and as he heard the shriek from Gladden, he staggered across the room toward the door.
He was in the hall, throwing himself between Dohmer and Baylock, getting in low to put his arms around Dohmer's knees, his shoulder against Dohmer's thigh, his feet bracing hard, then the push and the heave as his arms went even lower so that he took Dohmer with him to the floor.
Dohmer's eyes didn't see him. Dohmer was gazing past him, up at Baylock. There was a good deal of grief on Baylock's face. Baylock's left eye was swollen and purple and the eyebrow was cut.
Rising slowly, Harbin said, "All right, it's over."
"It isn't over." Baylock was weeping without tears.
"If you feel that way," Harbin said, "don't stand there thinking about it. Here's Dohmer right in front of you. If you want to hit him, go ahead and hit him."
Baylock had no reply. Dohmer had risen and now stood rubbing his brow as though he had a severe headache. A few times he opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but he was unable to choose words.
Gladden lit a cigarette. She gave Harbin a scolding look. "This is all your fault."
"I know it is," Harbin said. Without looking at Baylock, he murmured, "Maybe if certain people would stop needling me, it wouldn't happen."
"I don't needle you," Baylock wept. "All I do is say what I think."
"It isn't thinking," Harbin said. "It's crying the blues. You're always crying the blues." He gestured toward the bathroom. "Fix him up," he said to Gladden, and she took Baylock into the bathroom. Harbin turned and moved into the bedroom and began putting things back in order.
In the doorway, Dohmer rubbed palms across his knuckles. "I don't know what got into me."
Harbin set the table on its legs. He put the chair back in place. He gathered the scattered gems and when they were all collected and in their cloth on the table, he turned to Dohmer and said, "You make me sick."
"Baylock makes you sick."
"Baylock makes me sore. You make me sick."
"I didn't mean to do it," Dohmer said. "I swear I didn't really mean to hit him."
"That's why you make me sick. As long as you do what you mean to do, you're a utility. But when you lose your head you're worse than nothing."
"You're the one went out of control."
"When I go out of control," Harbin said, "I punch air, I don't punch a face." He pointed to the torn sheets. "I damage that. I don't damage the people I work with. Look at the size of your fists. You could have killed him."
Dohmer moved into the room and sat on the edge of the cot. He went on rubbing his knuckles. "Why do these things have to start?"
"Nerves."
"We've got to get rid of that."
"We can't," Harbin said. "Nerves are little wires inside. They stay there. When they're pulled too tight, they snap."
"That aih't good."
"Nothing you can do about it," Harbin said, "except try to steer it when it happens. That's what I try to do. I try to steer it. Instead of aiming that hand at Baylock, you should have aimed it at the wall."
"I'm too big," Dohmer stood there very dismally. He looked with pleading at Harbin. "You've got to believe me, Nat, I got nothing against Baylock. I like Baylock. He's been good to me. He's done me more favors than I can remember. So look what I go and do. I walk in and slam my hand into his eye. This hand here," and he displayed his right hand, holding it out as though offering it to be cut off.
Harbin saw Dohmer's head go down, the immense shoulders slumped, the big head descending into cupped hands. Something midway between a moan and a sob came from Dohmer's throat. It was evident that Dohmer wished to be alone with his remorse, and Harbin walked out of the room and closed the door.
He entered the bathroom to see Baylock with head tilted far back under the light above the washbowl. Gladden pressed gently with a styptic pencil, then she held the white pencil under cold running water, then applied it again. Baylock made a thin sound of pain.
"It's awful," Baylock said. "It's like fire."
"Let me see." Harbin stepped in close to examine the eye. "Not too deep. You won't need stitches, anyway."
Baylock gazed morosely at the floor. "Why did he have to hit me?"
"He feels worse about it than you do."
"Does he have this eye?"
"He wishes he did," Harbin said. "He feels lousy about it."
"That helps the eye a lot," Baylock whined.
Harbin lit a cigarette, taking his time. Then, after a few puffs, he looked at Gladden. "Go downstairs and fix us something to eat. Later on I'll take you out for a drink."
"Should I dress up?" Gladden asked. "I'd love to dress up."
Harbin smiled at her.
She said, "I get a real kick when I'm all dressed up. What I like best is that number with the silver sequins. You like that one, Nat? That yellow dress with the sequins?"
"It's very pretty."
"I'm dying to wear it tonight," Gladden said. "I got a real itch to take that dress out and put it on and wear it. Then I'll be out with you and I'll be wearing that dress."
"Nice," Harbin nodded. "Real nice."
"It's always real nice when I'm all dressed up in a dress I'm crazy about, and I'm sure crazy about that sequin thing. I'll put it on and I'll be wearing it when we go out, and I'll have it on and I'll feel fine. I feel real good just thinking about it."
She was walking out. They heard her as she reached the head of the stairs, saying aloud to herself, "Just thinking about it." They heard her going down the stairs.
"That there," Baylock said, "is something I can't make out." He was forgetting his bad eye and looking directly and thoughtfully and probingly at Harbin, and saying, "It ain't me that gets on your nerves. It's the girl. The girl always gets on your nerves. The girl is a dumbbell and you know she's a dumbbell. I think it's time you did something about it."
"All right," Harbin waved wearily. "Cut that."
"She's dumb," Baylock said. "She's plain dumb."
"Why don't you drop it?"
"Look at it, Nat. Take a look at it. You know I got nothing personal against Gladden. She's straight and she means well but that ain't the point. The point is, she's dumb and you know it just like I know it. The difference is, I come out with it and you hold it back inside. You choke yourself up with it and that's why you broke loose tonight and went haywire. I can't take it any deeper than that, but I know it goes way deeper."
"Can't we just leave it like this?"