Ham On Rye - Charles Bukowski [18]
Mrs. Westphal pushed me away and stood back.
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘let’s fuck!’”
She looked at me a long time. Then she said, “Henry, I am never going to tell anybody what you said, not the principal or your parents or anybody. But I never, never want you to say that to me again, do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“All right. You can go home now.”
I got up and walked toward the door. When I opened it, Mrs. Westphal said, “Good afternoon, Henry.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Westphal.”
I walked down the street wondering about it. I felt she wanted to fuck but was afraid because I was too young for her and that my parents or the principal might find out. It had been exciting being in the room with her alone. This thing about fucking was nice. It gave people extra things to think about.
There was one large boulevard to cross on the way home. I entered the crosswalk. Suddenly there was a car coming right at me. It didn’t slow down. It was weaving wildly. I tried to run out of its path but it appeared to follow me. I saw headlights, wheels, a bumper. The car hit me and then there was blackness…
14
Later in the hospital they were dabbing at my knees with pieces of cotton that had been soaked in something. It burned. My elbows burned too.
The doctor was bending over me with a nurse. I was in bed and the sun came through the window. It seemed very pleasant. The doctor smiled at me. The nurse straightened up and smiled at me. It was nice there.
“Do you have a name?” the doctor asked.
“Henry.”
“Henry what?”
“Chinaski.”
“Polish, eh?”
“German.”
“How come nobody wants to be Polish?”
“I was born in Germany.”
“Where do you live?” asked the nurse.
“With my parents.”
“Really?” asked the doctor. “And where is that?”
“What happened to my elbows and knees?”
“A car ran you over. Luckily, the wheels missed you. Witnesses said he appeared to be drunk. Hit and run. But they got his license. They’ll get him.”
“You have a pretty nurse…” I said.
“Well, thank you,” she said.
“Do you want a date with her?” asked the doctor.
“What’s that?”
“Do you want to go out with her?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t know if I could do it with her. I’m too young.”
“Do what?”
“You know.”
“Well,” the nurse smiled, “come see me after your knees heal up and we’ll see what we can do.”
“Pardon me,” said the doctor, “but I have to see another accident case.” He left the room.
“Now,” said the nurse, “what street do you live on?”
“Virginia Road.”
“Give me the number, sweetie.”
I told her the house number. She asked if there was a telephone. I told her that I didn’t know the number.
“That’s all right,” she said, “we’ll get it. And don’t worry. You were lucky. You just got a bump on the head and skinned up a little.”
She was nice but I knew that after my knees healed, she wouldn’t want to see me again.
“I want to stay here,” I told her.
“What? You mean, you don’t want to go home to your parents?”
“No. Let me stay here.”
“We can’t do that, sweetie. We need these beds for people who are really sick and injured.”
She smiled and walked out of the room.
When my father came he walked straight into the room and without a word scooped me out of bed. He carried me out of the room and down the hallway.
“You little bastard! Didn’t I teach you to look BOTH ways before you cross the street?”
He rushed me down the hall. We passed the nurse.
“Goodbye, Henry,” she said.
“Goodbye.”
We got into an elevator with an old man in a wheelchair. A nurse was standing behind him. The elevator began to descend.
“I think I’m going to die,” the old man said. “I don’t want to die. I’m afraid to die…”
“You’ve lived long enough, you old fart!” muttered my father.
The old man looked startled. The elevator stopped. The door remained closed. Then I noticed the elevator operator. He sat on a small stool. He was a dwarf dressed in a bright red uniform with a red cap.
The dwarf looked at my father. “Sir,” he said, “you are a repugnant fool!”
“Shortcake,” replied my father, “open the fucking door or it’s your ass.”
The door opened. We