The Complete Stories - Flannery O'Connor [134]
The engine charged by, filling their noses with the smell of hot metal and then the second coach came to a stop exactly where they were standing. A conductor with the face of an ancient bloated bulldog was on the step as if he expected them, though he did not look as if it mattered one way or the other to him if they got on or not. “To the right,” he said.
Their entry took only a fraction of a second and the train was already speeding on as they entered the quiet car. Most of the travelers were still sleeping, some with their heads hanging off the chair arms, some stretched across two seats, and some sprawled out with their feet in the aisle. Mr. Head saw two unoccupied seats and pushed Nelson toward them. “Get in there by the winder,” he said in his normal voice which was very loud at this hour of the morning. “Nobody cares if you sit there because it’s nobody in it. Sit right there.”
“I heard you,” the boy muttered. “It’s no use in you yelling,” and he sat down and turned his head to the glass. There he saw a pale ghost-like face scowling at him beneath the brim of a pale ghost-like hat. His grandfather, looking quickly too, saw a different ghost, pale but grinning, under a black hat.
Mr. Head sat down and settled himself and took out his ticket and started reading aloud everything that was printed on it. People began to stir. Several woke up and stared at him. “Take off your hat,” he said to Nelson and took off his own and put it on his knee. He had a small amount of white hair that had turned tobac cocolored over the years and this lay flat across the back of his head. The front of hishead was bald and creased. Nelson took off his hat and put it on his knee and they waited for the conductor to come ask for their tickets.
The man across the aisle from them was spread out over two seats, his feet propped on the window and his head jutting into the aisle. He had on a light blue suit and a yellow shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His eyes had just opened and Mr. Head was ready to introduce himself when the conductor came up from behind and growled, “Tickets.”
When the conductor had gone, Mr. Head gave Nelson the return half of his ticket and said, “Now put that in your pocket and don’t lose it or you’ll have to stayin the city.”
“Maybe I will,” Nelson said as if this were a reasonable suggestion. Mr. Head ignored him. “First time this boy has ever been on a train,” he explained to the man across the aisle, who was sitting up now on the edge of his seat with both feet on the floor.
Nelson jerked his hat on again and turned angrily to the window.
“He’s never seen anything before,” Mr. Head continued. “Ignorant as the dayhe was born, but I mean for him to get his fill once and for all.”
The boy leaned forward, across his grandfather and toward the stranger. “l was born in the city,” he said. “l was born there. This is my second trip.” He said itin a high positive voice but the man across the aisle didn’t look as if he understood. There were heavy purple circles under his eyes.
Mr. Head reached across the aisle and tapped him on the arm. “The thing to do with a boy,” he said sagely, “is to show him all it is to show. Don’t hold nothing back.”
“Yeah,” the man said. He gazed down at his swollen feet and lifted the left one about ten inches from the floor. After a minute he put it down and lifted the other. All through the car people began to get up and move about and yawn and stretch. Separate voices could be heard here and there and then a general hum. Suddenly Mr. Head’s serene expression changed. His mouth almost closed and alight, fierce and cautious both, came into his eyes. He was looking down the length of the car. Without turning,