The Haves and the Have-nots – Short fiction
To the memory of Holden Caulfield…
I was a derelict of the street—the neighbourhood where I was born. People often used to give me names like ‘bastard’ and ‘crook’. These names got on my nerves. The truth is, I was too mad—how I hated people. I mean it. Though I was a human being, I could feel no humanity dwelling within me—I mean when people yell at you ‘hey you little bastard!’ This killed me—my humanity and all. I mean how could you like people who call you ‘crook’. God! That was upsetting and traumatic as Hell. The truth is, I had no human love. I loved two people: nobody and myself—and I’m not sure about myself.
It was summertime. I don’t remember what day it was. I mean why I should remember what day it was if all the days were all the same to me. But all I can remember is that it was midday. Boy, was it too hot. I mean it. Really. I was laying my back against that wall, and I was sitting on my goddam ass. The floor was made up of cement, and so it was hurting as hell. The truth is that I was putting on only those goddam flimsy shorts. So, I could feel the pain—I mean if you are a waif-like young boy, you’d be a vulnerable person, and you’ll be hurt no matter what happens to you, though. You should’ve seen people at midday leading back home, while it’s too hot as hell. They were sweating and looking dirty as hell. Well, not as much as I looked, though. They might stay there burning and shooting the bull; their conversations were as frivolous and silly as their lives were. I tell you. Anyway, I could do nothing to stop the pain that was spreading through my goddam ass, so what I did do, I got up and spit on the goddam floor. The truth is, the pain incurred my anger, and so I started giving mouth to every bad word I could think of. I can’t really remember what was going on in my head, but all I do remember is, I was too mad and angry. You should’ve seen that old man with his goddam hairy chest who stopped by and tweaked my ear. It was hurting as hell. I mean when you are a child and people pull off your ears simulating care. Some children find it very funny when people stop by and tweak their ears. For God’s sake, I didn’t like it, ‘cut the hell out off,’ I told the old man.
A couple of minutes later, I heard my secret friend’s voice. She was crying and screaming. I could recognise her voice from a safe distance, anyway. As a matter of fact, I’ve made up my mind to rush her in a while, but all of a sudden I remembered when her mother had slapped me one day on my face when she knew that I was playing together with her daughter. You must be crazy if you think I could forget that goddam slap. It hurt as hell. God! How I hate that ugly woman. Anyway, I liked that girl. She’d that kind of blond hair which I can’t put in words. One day I remember, she was holding her mother’s hand, and I was right behind her, and so I whistled like a jerk to mesmerise her attention. Thanks God, it worked and she turned her head toward me, and the wind just blew her golden hair. She gave me that smile and waved. Boy, was I too happy—never before had I felt happy like that. In my life. Anyway, I smiled back at her after all. The truth is, I didn’t want to upset her, and so I smiled, though I didn’t feel like going into smiling and all.
Anyway, when I remembered that goddam slap and the pain it caused, I decided not to go. The truth is that I was too scared. I really mean it—I mean when people hit you with their palms and your ears start off burning, you’ll surely be scared to get another slap again. What I did do, I held myself. All of a sudden, she howled, and I, as a matter of fact, I couldn’t resist, if you want to know the truth. I then went on running to rush her, and when I reached her, I came over all shocked. It seemed that she fell on her knees and she cut them. She was bleeding, and I assumed it was hurting as hell. She was holding her knees tightly and all. That was too natural. I mean when young children cut their knees, they try to hold them, so that they wouldn’t bleed—if only I could stop my bleeding too. The truth is that my life was bleeding and all. A moment later, her mother came along, and she was like a phony woman, I tell you. I really do mean it. Her mother was that kind of mothers who wouldn’t let you get in touch with their kids if you look dirty and people call you like ‘bastard’ and ‘crook’. Those kinds of mothers who hold their children down and never set them free – you know. Anyway, as her mother came along, I tried to hide myself—I mean I couldn’t bear one more slap. Boy, was I too sore. I didn’t manage to talk to my secret friend and chew the fat with her because her mother was there and all. How I hate this woman. She was a phony, if you want to know the truth. At that time, she glimpsed her father coming along; she sort of jumped and stick to him in glue and all. I felt like crying, but I did not feel like going into it. So, I feigned like nothing had happened.
Though I’m a sheer liar, I wouldn’t deny the fact that I liked her father. He’d that kind of red-rounded face that burns and gets red when it’s too hot and all. Anyway, my friend was no longer crying now. I mean sometimes we children convincingly pretend to cry because our need to protection dictates us to do that – you know. Besides, I seldom do cry, anyway.
Her father whom I liked was very kind. He used to smile at me sometimes. Anyway, now that my friend cut her tears off, her father was like ‘would you like some ice cream my angel?’
‘Yes dad. Do you remember the last one you bought me – the one with the flavour of pistachio, that’s what –’
‘Yes, I remember dear—I do.’ He said nodding his head.
Now, my friend was licking her pistachio ice cream, and I was watching her carefully and all. She was a good-looking girl, if you want to know the truth boy.
I don’t know what exactly happened when I overheard the word ‘ice cream’. I’d begun swallowing my spit, and if you’d approached me, you could’ve heard me swallowing my spit. God! You can’t resist such a word – ice cream – especially when midday sun beats down – you know. The truth is, I hardly wanted an ice cream. Anyway, I waited for a long time – long enough – until my friend got away and disappeared all of a sudden. ‘I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream,’ I went on singing like a jerk, and excited as hell and all. Boy, was I too mad. I really wanted an ice cream with the flavour of the goddam pistachio for myself. What I did do, I went to that big grocery store where they sold ice cream and all. I stood in front of that goddam fridge, and stared at that black hawker—I said that because he was a hawker years ago. Anyway, he laughed like a jerk. He was that kind of guys who comb their hair, though their hair was curly and all. His teeth were lousy, and he had some pimples on his forehead—you couldn’t see them because he was a black guy. When I saw his mossy teeth, I got the impression that he ate ice cream a lot. I mean he was that kind of people whom you could expect their phony behaviour. Anyway, he didn’t see me. All of a sudden, he yelled at me as hell, ‘keep still you little devil,’ he was too sore, ‘what the hell do you want?’ he asked. I could feel my voice shaking when I replied him back. He gazed at me with his eyes—his red eyes. God! His eyes were red and frightening as hell. I felt like running away, but I really wanted an ice cream.
‘I-ice c-cream!’ I said shakily.
‘Who will buy you that, boy?’
‘Yes, with the flavour of pistachio.’
‘C’mon you little bastard! Are you playing the deaf game?’ he yelled at me as hell.
‘Nobody.’
‘What the hell you mean nobody?’
‘I just want an ice cream – an ice cream with the flavour of pistachio. That’s all.’
‘I’m beginning to see daylight, Euh.’
‘Yes, it’s already midday—you know.’
‘What’s that?’ he was too sore. I mean it. ‘Look, you little bastard! I don’t really feel like going into arguing or something like that. Do you have money?’ Until then, I was already running away.