More Than Human

‘Much bigger,’ she said.

He pressed back sleepily into the cushions. ‘I feel fine,’ he murmured. ‘I feel… Janie,’ he said in a strange voice, ‘I feel sick.’

‘You know what that is,’ she said calmly.

A tension came and went within him and he laughed softly. ‘Him again. He’s wrong. He’s wrong. He’ll never make me sick again. Driver!’

His voice was like soft wood tearing. Startled, the driver slammed on his brakes. Hip surged forward out of his seat and caught the back of the driver under his armpit. ‘Go back,’ he said excitedly.

‘Goddlemighty,’ the driver muttered. He began to turn the cab around. Hip turned to Janie, an answer, some sort of answer, half formed, but she had no question. She sat quietly and waited. To the driver Hip said, ‘Just the next block. Yeah, here. Left. Turn left.’

He sank back then, his cheek to the window glass, his eyes raking the shadowed houses and black lawns. After a time he said, ‘There. The house with the driveway, there where the big hedge is.’

‘Want I should drive in?’

‘No,’ Hip said.’ Pull over. A little farther… there, where I can see in.’

When the cab stopped, the driver turned around and peered back. ‘Gettin’ out here? That’s a dollar ’n – ’

‘Shh!’ The sound came so explosively that the driver sat stunned. Then he shook his head wearily and turned to face forward. He shrugged and waited.

Hip stared through the driveway’s gap in the hedge at the faintly gleaming white house, its stately porch and porte-cochere, its neat shutters and fanlit door.

‘Take us home,’ he said after a time.

Nothing was said until they got there. Hip sat with one hand pressing his temples, covering his eyes. Janie’s corner of the cab was dark and silent.

When the machine stopped Hip slid out and absently handed Janie to the walk. He gave the driver a bill, accepting the change, pawed out a tip and handed it back. The cab drove off.

Hip stood looking down at the money in his hand, sliding it around on his palm with his fingers. ‘Janie?’

‘Yes, Hip.’

He looked at her. He could hardly see her in the darkness. ‘Let’s go inside.’

They went in. He switched on the lights. She took off her hat and hung her bag on the bedpost and sat down on the bed, her hands on her lap. Waiting.

He seemed blind, so deep was his introspection. He came awake slowly, his gaze fixed on the money in his hand. For a moment it seemed without meaning to him; then slowly, visibly, he recognized it and brought it into his thoughts, into his expression. He closed his hand on it, shook it, brought it to her and spread it out on the night table – three crumpled bills, some silver.’ It isn’t mine,’ he said.

‘Of course it is!’

He shook his head tiredly. ‘No it isn’t. None of it’s been mine. Not the roller coaster money or the shopping money or coffee in the mornings or… I suppose there’s rent here.’

She was silent.

‘That house,’ he said detachedly. ‘The instant I saw it I knew I’d been there before. I was there just before I got arrested. I didn’t have any money then. I remember. I knocked on the door and I was dirty and crazy and they told me to go around the back if I wanted something to eat. I didn’t have any money; I remember that so well. All I had was…’

Out of his pocket came the woven metal tube. He caught lamplight on its side, flicked it off again, squeezed it, then pointed with it at the night table. ‘Now, ever since I came here, I have money. In my left jacket pocket every day. I never wondered about it. It’s your money, isn’t it; Janie?’

‘It’s yours. Forget about it, Hip. It’s not important.’

‘What do you mean it’s mine?’ he barked.’ Mine because you give it to me?’ He probed her silence with a bright beam of anger and nodded. ‘Thought so.’

‘Hip!’

He shook his head, suddenly, violently, the only expression he could find at the moment for the great tearing wind which swept through him. It was anger, it was humiliation, it was a deep futility and a raging attack on the curtains which shrouded his self-knowledge. He slumped down into the easychair and put his hands over his face.

He sensed her nearness, then her hand was on his shoulder. ‘Hip…’ she whispered. He shrugged the shoulder and the hand was gone. He heard the faint sound of springs as she sat down again on the bed.