Read Online Tunes for Bears to Dance To by Robert Cormier - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Cormier
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anything I can do for you, just let me know.’ Do you see?” Without waiting for a reply he continued. “So, with your mother, if I tell the owner to give her a raise, give her better hours, make her a hostess, even, so she doesn’t have to wait on tables anymore, he’ll do it.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”
Henry braced himself, knew what was coming, had known what was coming all the time, of course.
“On the other hand, if things don’t go right, then a word to the owner can have the opposite effect. If I say, ‘Fire this woman or that woman,’ then he’ll do it. Of course, I would not want to do that. The owner says your mother is a very nice woman. A good waitress. She deserves a raise. And a promotion. Why not—right, Henry? You love your mother, don’t you? It’s in your hands….” The grocer sighed.
“Such a small thing I’m asking you to do. Look at all the rewards for doing it.”
If it’s such a small thing, why is it so important to you?
Henry asked, but silently. Afraid of the answer, afraid of what the grocer might say.
“Now, the second thing,” the grocer said, glancing anxiously at the door—but no one entered.
“If you are going to do this thing, then do it today, tonight. You said the display will be moved Saturday morning, but they might change their minds and do it tomorrow. You can never tell about people. So, I don’t want you to wait.” He looked at his watch. “It’s now almost three. You can leave in a few minutes.”
Henry remained silent, listening to his heartbeat. “Whether you do it or not, I want you to leave now, this minute. If you do this thing, then come back after. I’ll be waiting here in the store, you’ll see the light on. If you don’t, then never come back.” He reached into his coat pocket, took out some folded dollar bills. “Here’s your pay for the week.” He tucked the money into Henry’s shirt pocket. “I never want to see you again if you fail to do what I ask.”
The customer bell finally rang and Henry, gratefully, saw Mrs. Karminski entering, her small dog sniffing and yipping as usual. A few minutes later, as Henry headed toward the door, the grocer called his name. Henry paused, his hand on the doorknob. He heard the grocer’s approaching footsteps.
“Do it,” the grocer whispered in his ear. “Destroy the old man’s village.”
Henry turned, stepped aside, curious to see the expression on the grocer’s face after issuing such a terrible order. He was surprised to see, not something ugly or repulsive, but the bland everyday face of Mr. Hairston. But he shuddered, opening the door, as if he had just touched the glistening skin of a snake.
I ’
m going to the craft center but I won’t smash the village. I will go there and watch the old man at work and talk to George Graham but I won’t do what Mr. Hairston wants me to do.
Glad to be free of the grocer and the store, Henry raced through the twisted streets, waiting for the pain that always came when he ran too fast or too far. Pushing himself to the limit, he invited the pain, breathless, sweating, the sweat blurring his vision. Finally he paused near a telephone pole, gasping, his breath sounding like a piece of cloth being torn in two.
Leaning against the pole, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, he heard the grocer’s voice: “Such a little thing I’m asking you to do, and think of all the rewards.” The monument for Eddie, hismother’s raise and promotion, his own job saved. The old man’s village only a toy village, really.
When he arrived at the center, he paused again to catch his breath. Looking down the street, he saw the same wise guys in front of the saloon, not gambling with coins now but merely lounging about lazily. Henry envied them for doing nothing, no orders to follow, no terrible deeds to carry out.
The center bustled with activity and excitement; somebody sweeping, somebody else washing the walls, while others worked at
Henry braced himself, knew what was coming, had known what was coming all the time, of course.
“On the other hand, if things don’t go right, then a word to the owner can have the opposite effect. If I say, ‘Fire this woman or that woman,’ then he’ll do it. Of course, I would not want to do that. The owner says your mother is a very nice woman. A good waitress. She deserves a raise. And a promotion. Why not—right, Henry? You love your mother, don’t you? It’s in your hands….” The grocer sighed.
“Such a small thing I’m asking you to do. Look at all the rewards for doing it.”
If it’s such a small thing, why is it so important to you?
Henry asked, but silently. Afraid of the answer, afraid of what the grocer might say.
“Now, the second thing,” the grocer said, glancing anxiously at the door—but no one entered.
“If you are going to do this thing, then do it today, tonight. You said the display will be moved Saturday morning, but they might change their minds and do it tomorrow. You can never tell about people. So, I don’t want you to wait.” He looked at his watch. “It’s now almost three. You can leave in a few minutes.”
Henry remained silent, listening to his heartbeat. “Whether you do it or not, I want you to leave now, this minute. If you do this thing, then come back after. I’ll be waiting here in the store, you’ll see the light on. If you don’t, then never come back.” He reached into his coat pocket, took out some folded dollar bills. “Here’s your pay for the week.” He tucked the money into Henry’s shirt pocket. “I never want to see you again if you fail to do what I ask.”
The customer bell finally rang and Henry, gratefully, saw Mrs. Karminski entering, her small dog sniffing and yipping as usual. A few minutes later, as Henry headed toward the door, the grocer called his name. Henry paused, his hand on the doorknob. He heard the grocer’s approaching footsteps.
“Do it,” the grocer whispered in his ear. “Destroy the old man’s village.”
Henry turned, stepped aside, curious to see the expression on the grocer’s face after issuing such a terrible order. He was surprised to see, not something ugly or repulsive, but the bland everyday face of Mr. Hairston. But he shuddered, opening the door, as if he had just touched the glistening skin of a snake.
I ’
m going to the craft center but I won’t smash the village. I will go there and watch the old man at work and talk to George Graham but I won’t do what Mr. Hairston wants me to do.
Glad to be free of the grocer and the store, Henry raced through the twisted streets, waiting for the pain that always came when he ran too fast or too far. Pushing himself to the limit, he invited the pain, breathless, sweating, the sweat blurring his vision. Finally he paused near a telephone pole, gasping, his breath sounding like a piece of cloth being torn in two.
Leaning against the pole, oblivious to anyone who might be watching, he heard the grocer’s voice: “Such a little thing I’m asking you to do, and think of all the rewards.” The monument for Eddie, hismother’s raise and promotion, his own job saved. The old man’s village only a toy village, really.
When he arrived at the center, he paused again to catch his breath. Looking down the street, he saw the same wise guys in front of the saloon, not gambling with coins now but merely lounging about lazily. Henry envied them for doing nothing, no orders to follow, no terrible deeds to carry out.
The center bustled with activity and excitement; somebody sweeping, somebody else washing the walls, while others worked at
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