HENRY

He would lean against the frame of the doorway leading to his apartment. His hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the other, toe pointing down. It was how he spent his days. He was known as Henry, and more often by other names as well. He stood about 6 feet tall, in his mid-forties-stocky but with a child-like innocent face. His black hair was still all jet black, and no signs of age to betray how old he was.

No hope, no future, not even a dream, Henry was considered too backward to stay in a classroom with his peers as a child, and the fear of ridicule consumed his mother Lena. She took him out of the classroom at the age of 8, never again to sit with children who verbally abused her son.

Lena was a short squatty woman in her late 50’s who loved life, enjoyed good conversation and little children while taking custodial care of the three-floor walkup. She was often on call, and enlisted Henry to help her with the heavy lifting when it was needed. It was an old wooden apartment built before the World War I. An immigrant from Sicily, Lena had met her husband Enrico at a festival at the local church. Enrico work in construction, sometimes 12 to 14 hours a day, and many times on Saturdays. He had no time for Henry, his namesake, and it troubled Lena. Often they would fight because she spent so much time with Henry, an embarrassment to the old man.

In the winter months, Henry was kept busy by doing various chores for Lena, it didn’t matter that he did them poorly: it occupied his time thought his mother. But Enrico could not tolerate his “backward son”, comparing him to other sons that were spoken of on the job. Enrico worked along side many other veteran’s who had returned home from the front, some from Europe, some from the South Pacific, all working in construction as 1950’s Brooklyn grew into a new shape.

Lena wondered what would become of Henry once she passed on. Henry was the oldest of three children, a son named Armando, an engineering student at Manhattan College and the youngest child, a beautiful little eight-year old daughter named Maria. Henry loved Maria, was protective of her, yet it was Maria who watched over Henry for her mother, and with love for her brother, she was wise beyond her years.

In the warmer months Henry would spend his time observing the neighborhood, seeing the same people go off to work every morning, silently passing him. Often he wondered what their jobs were, where they went and how they got there. His mind was simple, a non-aggressive bulk of a man, one that commanded respect for his size, not his intellect, he was confused often.

He wished he could ride the ‘Train in the ground” by himself. Once when he was young, his Mother took him on a train, and the idea that such a large structure could move on the thin tracks intrigued him. He loved the freedom of going somewhere, anywhere where he could master the route and explore. Often he would watch the train on the El down the end of his street, as it snaked across the street under it. The clatter meant it was moving to go somewhere. He wondered if all the trains went to the same place, or if they went each somewhere different.

Today was a warm spring day, and the sun seemed to radiate with intensity and a merriment that celebrated the end of the winter snows. The children were out on the street, their play seemed so much more vigorous and carefree then Henry could recall. There seemed to be joy in their cadence as they jumped rope, and played with a rubber ball against the stoop. The counting seemed to help Henry know that their play was still going on, and when they stopped counting their turn was over. He wished they would ask him to jump. He could jump: he would be good at it! Their laughter and joy seemed to fill the air that day for Henry.

Henry decided he wanted to leave the safety of the doorway and walk down the street, to see what was there. His fear was he would not be able to get home again, and what if Mamma called him and he wasn’t there? She would be very angry, she would yell at him in Italian, just like Poppa.

Slowly Henry stepped away from the doorway and placed a foot on the descending step, almost as one might stick his naked foot into a hot steaming bath, testing the water. His mind flooded with fear as he realized he could be lost forever, never seeing Mamma again. But he looked once again down the street, this time looking the opposite way. There on the end of the road was a busy street; there were cars and buses that hurried along. Once more he had the urge to step down and begin to walk, and once again the fear of losing himself overcame him, as he dragged his foot back up to the stoop and retreated into the safety of his little world.

Henry heard the clatter of the train on the el, and decided to walk that way. As long as the street stayed on his eating hand side, he would be ok, so he thought. Slowly he nudged himself off the stoop each of the three steps measured, one at a time. Slowly he concentrated, placing his foot down, holding onto the side railing that led him down to the sidewalk. Soon he was on the sidewalk, where the children were playing and shouting to each other. One of the little girls shouted: “Here comers Henry!” in mock fear, laughing as they all scattered. Henry continued to walk past them like he was sure where he was going, not looking at them, staring ahead.
“Look! Stupid Henry is gonna get us, run!” The laughter followed and Henry ignored it, and continued like they weren’t there, hoping they wouldn’t talk to him.

Looking behind himself constantly, Henry checked that he could still see the fire hydrant that stood guard over the street in front of his house. It being there was reassuring to Henry, as he checked which side of the street met was on his eating hand.

Suddenly Henry came to a cross street, and slowly started to cross. Unheeding he stared straight ahead and slowly stepped deliberately one foot in front of the other when almost across-

“Hey! What the hell’s the matter with cha? Waddya stoopid? Can’t cha see numb skull?

Henry heard the screech of brakes and the blare of a horn, but stayed focus straight ahead, becoming un-nerved as he walked. As he reached the other side, he stopped and took a deep breath and looked back once again, the hydrant still in view.

The sun had risen over the train tracks that made up the el, and started to blind him somewhat. Frowning, he continued his trek, checking his hand to the road, and passed what seemed to be a giant whole in the building. Slowly walking by he looked in, noticing huge trucks, painted red with golden letters and numbers. He didn’t know how to read, but he could distinguish some of the numbers. Hanging on hooks were heavy coats and boots sat at the bottom of the rack of coats and what he guessed to be hats over the coats, Suddenly he realized he was looking at where the big fire trucks went when they passed him by on the stoop of his building.

Henry remembered he was away from home and wished he were safely back on his stoop. He could picture Mamma, and worried that he was taking too long and better hurry. There was a lady on a chair sitting in front of her building, another man leaning into his building entranceway that reminded Henry of himself. Each followed him with their heads as he slowly walked by, not saying anything, or even speaking.

Suddenly Henry heard a familiar sound, one he heard every day, the sound of a train crossing over the street, and looking up, he realized how large it was and how loud it sounded, sending a shiver through his body. Slowly it crossed over him, and set him to wonder once more, where it was going. Transfixed, he waited for the train to cross over before continuing under the el and crossing the street once again.

The morning air was warming up even more, and Henry was perspiring as beads of sweat were running down his forehead, racing one another and reaching his neck. Taking out a handkerchief, he slowly wiped his neck and replaced the hanky into his pocket.

Once more he dared to cross a street. This one a greater challenge than the last, with cars and buses and trucks and people all moving at once, and the clatter of the train, the train that were beginning to scare him into retreating back.

He froze at the corner where a line of people were waiting for something it seemed to him. Henry slowly raised his foot to step down into the street when he had this sudden sense of an onrushing object about to run into him, and as he put his foot down someone yelled: “Hey!” Looking up to his left, a bus swung into his path just as he quickly pulled back onto the sidewalk. The doors of the bus folded opened, revealing a driver who looked at him blankly as the people who were waiting on line clamored aboard, staring at him quizzically as they passed.

Henry stood frightened and confused, people were rushing by, he started once again, crossing the busy street, the horns blaring at him as he slowly and deliberately crossed, people were swearing at him and another overhead train was clattering loudly overhead. Henry stopped in the middle of the crossway, holding his ears wishing he was anywhere but where he was. Suddenly he wished he could see his Mamma’s face, yet heard his father cursing while sweat was once again pouring down his cheeks. He checked his eating hand, there was a building next to him, he was lost!

“Get the hell out of the way goddamit!” “Whatta ya crazy, get the hell out of da street ya moron!” The world was quickly crashing down on Henry, he had lost his way and he was frightened beyond his ability to act. Frozen in the middle of the thoroughfare covering his eyes, shaking uncontrollably.

As Henry stood amidst the loud cacophony of angry swearing and impatient horns, the overhead loud clattering of the passing train, a hand reached out and gently touched his arm. He knew that hand, and the feel was comforting to him. Suddenly he felt that he was almost in his entryway to his apartment, the safety of Mamma’s reassuring voice calling him, the sweet sound of a gentle voice.

“Henry, Mamma is waiting for us, hold my hand.” A gentle little voice reassured him, rescuing him from his hell.

Henry cradled the little hand of Maria as she led him back to where he belonged, and suddenly, the world stood quietly still! Henry was going home.