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 went out the entrance. My father carried me across
the hospital lawn. I still had on a hospital gown. My father carried my
clothes in a bag in one hand. The wind blew back my gown and I saw my skinned knees which were not bandaged and were painted with iodine.
My father was almost running across the lawn.
“When they catch that son-of-a-bitch,” he said, “I’ll sue him! I’ll sue
him for his last penny! He’ll support me the rest of his life! I’m sick of
that god-damned milk truck! Golden State Creamery.' Golden State, my
hairy ass! We’ll move to the South Seas. We’ll live on coconuts and pineapples!”
My father reached the car and put me in the front seat. Then he got in
on his side. He started the car.
“I hate drunks! My father was a drunk. My brothers are drunks. Drunks
are weak. Drunks are cowards. And hit-and-run drunks should be
jailed for the rest of their lives!”
As we drove toward home he continued to talk to me.
“Do you know that in the South Seas the natives live in grass shacks?
They get up in the morning and the food falls from the trees to the ground. They just pick it up and eat it, coconuts and pineapple. And the natives think that white men are gods! They catch fish and roast boar, and their
girls dance and wear grass skirts and rub their men behind the ears. Golden State Creamery, my hairy ass.”
But my father’s dream was not to be. They caught the man who hit me and put him in jail. He had a wife and three children and didn’t have a job. He was a penniless drunkard. The man sat in jail for some time but my father didn’t press charges. As he said, “You can’t get blood out of a fucking turnip!”