The Complete Stories by Bernard Malamud Read Free Book Online

more calmly. “You can get better.”
    “Please drop the subject.”
     
     
    The bell rang. Sophie pressed the buzzer.
    “Poppa, for godsake, please be nice to him.”
    He said nothing but turned to his cooking, and she went into the bathroom.
    Ephraim knocked on the door.
    “Come in!”
    The door opened and he walked in. He was tall, very well built, and neatly dressed. His hair was carefully slicked back, but his hands were beefy and red from constant washing in hot water, which did not remove the calluses on his palms or the grease pockets underneath his nails. He was embarrassed to find only Sophie’s father in.
    “Is Sophie here?” he asked.
    “Good evening,” said Rosenfeld sarcastically.
    Ephraim blushed.
    “Good evening,” he said. “Is Sophie here?”
    “She will be here in a minute.”
    “Thank you very much.” He remained standing.
    Rosenfeld poured some milk into the potatoes and stirred them with a fork. “So you working now in the project houses?” he asked.
    Ephraim was surprised to be addressed so politely. “No,” he said. “We’re working in the Brooklyn Navy Yard on the new ships.”
    “Hmm, must be a lot of toilets on the battleships?” Rosenfeld asked.
    Ephraim did not answer him. Sophie came out of the bathroom with her hair neatly combed and a small blue ribbon in it to match the blue in her housecoat.
    “Hello, Eph,” she said.
    He nodded.
    “Sit down,” she said, placing a chair near her bed. “I’ll get back into bed.” She lifted her feet out of the slippers, fixed the pillow so she could sit up, and covered herself with her blanket. Ephraim was facing her. Over his shoulder she could see her father scooping out the vegetables onto a plate. Then he sat down at the table and began to mash them.
    “What’s new, Eph?” she asked.
    He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, the fingers of both hands interlocked.
    “Nothing new,” he said.
    “Did you work today?”
    “Only half a day. I got three weeks overtime.”
    “What else is new?”
    He shrugged his shoulders.
    “Did you hear about Edith and Mortie?” she asked.
    “No,” he said. Rosenfeld lowered his fork.
    “They got married Sunday.”
    “That’s good,” he said.
    “Oh, another thing, I bought tickets for the Russian War Relief at Madison Square Garden. Can you go Friday night?”
    “Yes,” he said. Rosenfeld banged his fork down on his plate. Ephraim did not turn and Sophie did not look up. They were silent for a moment, and then Sophie began again.
    “Oh, I forgot,” she said, “I wrote to Washington for those civilservice requirements for you. Did your mother tell you?”
    “Yes,” he said.
    Rosenfeld banged his fist on the table. “Yes and no, yes and no,” he shouted. “Don’t you know no other words?”
    Ephraim did not turn around.
    “Poppa, please, ” begged Sophie.
    “Yes and no,” shouted her father, “yes and no. Is this the way to talk to an educated girl?”
    Ephraim turned around and said with dignity, “I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to your daughter.”
    “You not talking to her. You insulting her with yes and no. This is not talk.”
    “I’m not an actor,” said Ephraim. “I work with my hands.”
    “Don’t open your mouth to insult me.”
    Ephraim’s jaw was trembling. “You insulted me first.”
    “Please, please,” cried Sophie. “Poppa, if you don’t stop, I’m going to put up the screens.”
    “So put up the screens to hide the plum-ber,” her father taunted.
    “At least a plumber can support a wife and don’t have to send her out to work for him,” cried Ephraim, his voice full of emotion.
    “Oh, Ephraim, don’t,” moaned Sophie.
    For a moment Rosenfeld was stunned. Then his face reddened and he began to stutter, “You nothing, you. You nothing,” he cried. His lips moved noiselessly as he tried to find words to say. Suddenly he caught himself and paused. He rose slowly. Rosenfeld crossed his arms over his breast, then raised