Part 16 (1/2)

”Gee,” said Slim, the counterman, ”I figured we'd never see you you again. I figured you'd took off for good.” again. I figured you'd took off for good.”

”Figured wrong,” said Red. ”Happens sometimes.”

”How long since you been back, Red?” said Slim. ”Eight, nine years?”

”Eight,” said Red.

”You still in the merchant marines?” said Mott.

”Bridge tender,” said Red.

”Whereabouts?” said Slim.

”This bridge right here,” said Red.

”Heeeeeeey-you hear that?” said Slim. He started to touch Red familiarly, but thought better of it. ”Red's the new bridge tender!”

”Home to stay...Got hisself a good job...Ain't that nice?” said the chorus.

”When you start?” said Mott.

”Started,” said Red. ”Been up there two days now.”

All were amazed. ”Never heard a word about it... Never thought to look up and see who's there ...Two days, and we never noticed him,” said the chorus.

”I cross the bridge four times a day,” said Slim. ”You should have said h.e.l.lo or something. You know-you get to kind of thinking of the bridge tender as just kind of part of the machinery. You must of seen me and Harry and Stan and Mr. Mott and Eddie Scudder and everybody else crossing the bridge, and you never said a word?”

”Wasn't ready to,” said Red. ”Somebody else I had to talk to first.”

”Oh,” said Slim. His face went blank. He looked to the other three for enlightenment, and got three shrugs. Rather than pry, Slim tried to fidget his curiosity into thin air with his fingers.

”Don't give me that,” said Red irritably.

”Give you what, Red?” said Slim.

”Them innocent looks about who I been talking to,” said Red.

”I honest to G.o.d don't know, Red,” said Slim. ”It's so long since you been home, it's kind of hard to figure out who who you'd want to see you'd want to see special.” special.”

”So many people come and gone ...So much water under the bridge ... All your old friends growed up and settled down,” said the chorus.

Red grinned unpleasantly, to let them know they weren't getting away with anything. ”A girl,” said Red. ”I been talking to a girl.”

”Oooooooooooh,” said Slim. He chuckled lecherously. ”You old dog, you old sea dog. All of a sudden got a hankering for some of the old hometown stuff, eh?” His chuckle died as Red glared at him.

”Go on, enjoy yourself,” said Red angrily. ”Play dumb. You got about five minutes more, till Eddie Scudder gets here.”

”Eddie, eh?” said Slim, helpless in the midst of the puzzle.

The chorus had fallen silent, their eyes straight ahead. Red had killed their welcome, and given them only fear and bewilderment in return.

Red pursed his lips prissily. ”Can't imagine what Red Mayo'd be wanting to see Eddie Scudder about,” he said in a falsetto. He was infuriated by the innocence all around him. ”I really forgot what this village was like,” he said. ”By G.o.d-everybody agrees to tell the same big lie; pretty soon, everybody believes it like it was the gospel truth.” He hit the counter with his fist. ”My own folks, even!” he said. ”My own flesh and blood-they never even said a word in their letters.”

Slim, deserted by the chorus, was now terribly alone with the surly redhead. ”What lie?” he said shakily.

”What lie, what lie?” said Red in a parrot's voice. ”Polly wants a crack-er, Polly wants a crack-er! I guess I've seen just about everything in my travels, but I only seen one thing to come up to you guys.”

”What's that, Red?” said Slim, who was now an automaton.

”There was this kind of South American snake, see?” said Red. ”Liked to steal kids. It'd swipe a kid, and raise it just like it was a snake. Teach it to crawl and everything. And all the other snakes'd treat it just like it was a snake, too.”

In the silence, the chorus felt obliged to murmur. ”Never heard of such a thing...A snake do that?...If that don't take the cake.”

”We'll ask Eddie about it when he gets here,” said Red. ”He always was real good at animals and nature.” He hunched over, and stuffed his mouth with hamburger, indicating that the conversation was at an end. ”Eddie's late,” he said with a full mouth. ”I hope he got my message.”

He thought about his messenger, and how he'd sent her. With his jaws working, his eyes down, he was soon reliving his day. In his mind, it was noon again.

And it seemed to Red at noon that he was steering the village from his steel and gla.s.s booth, six feet above the roadway, on a girder at one end of the bridge. Only the clouds and ma.s.sive counterweights of the bridge were higher than Red was.

There was a quarter of an inch of play in the lever that controlled the bridge, and it was with this quarter of an inch that Red pretended, G.o.d-like, to steer the village. It was natural for him to think of himself and his surroundings as moving, of the water below as standing still. He had been a merchant sailor for nine years-a bridge tender for less than two days.

Hearing the noon howl of the fire horn, Red stopped his steering, and looked through his spygla.s.s at Eddie Scudder's oyster shack below. The shack was rickety and helpless-looking on pilings in the river mouth, connected to the salt marsh sh.o.r.e by two springy planks. The river bottom around it was a twinkling white circle of oyster sh.e.l.ls.

Eddie's eight-year-old daughter, Nancy, came out of the shack, and bounced gently on the planks, her face lifted to the suns.h.i.+ne. And then she stopped bouncing, and became demure.

Red had taken the job for the opportunity it gave him to watch her. He knew what the demureness was. It was a prelude to a ceremony, the ceremony of Nancy's combing her bright red hair.

Red's fingers played along the spygla.s.s as though it were a clarinet. ”h.e.l.lo, Red,” he whispered.

Nancy combed and combed and combed that cascade of red hair. Her eyes were closed, and each tug of the comb seemed to fill her with bittersweet ecstasy.

The combing left her languid. She walked through the salt meadow gravely, and climbed the steep bank to the road that crossed the bridge. Every day at noon, Nancy crossed the bridge to the lunchroom at the other end, to fetch a hot lunch for herself and her father.

Red smiled down at Nancy as she came.

Seeing the smile, she touched her hair.

”It's still there,” said Red.

”What is?” said Nancy.

”Your hair, Red.”

”I told you yesterday,” she said, ”my name isn't Red. It's Nancy.”

”How could anybody call you anything but but Red?” said Red. Red?” said Red.

”That's your your name,” said Nancy. name,” said Nancy.

”So I got a right to give it to you, if I want to,” said Red. ”I don't know anybody who's got a better right.”