Linger Awhile by Russell Hoban Page B

front was red with hanging plants and yellow outlines on the panels and windows, all very charming. I don’t like charming and I don’t like carefuldrinkers. I like pubs plain and dark and old-fashioned with names like The Hand of Glory, The Spade and Coffin and The Jolly Sandboys. With serious drinkers. There was a bus stop nearby with dark huddles of people and buses coming and going. In this cold northern twilight the buses looked larger and redder than the ones in my part of town.
    The sign on Rosalie Chun’s restaurant was a green neon dragon wearing a yarmulke. The red neon lettering was that
Chu-Chin-Chow
cuneiform they used in movie titles back in the 1930s and it was still being used as recently as
The World of Suzie Wong
in the 1950s.
    I looked through the glass door and saw the chairs up on the tables and a black man mopping the floor. I tapped on the glass and he came to the door shaking his head. ‘
Shabbas
,’ he said. ‘We’re closed.’
    ‘
You’re
working,’ I said.
    ‘I’m the
schwartzer
,’ he said.
    ‘Can you tell me where the Chuns live?’ I asked him.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I’m a friend of Chauncey Lim’s, he’s staying with them. Justine Trimble too.’
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Istvan Fallok.’
    ‘Wait here,’ he said, and disappeared. I turned around and watched the traffic. There wasn’t much. After about five minutes he came back. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Go to the side entrance and ring the bell.’
    ‘You’re very careful,’ I said. ‘Been having any trouble here?’
    He shook his head and went back to his mopping.
    I went round and found two bells, one above the other. No names. It was a three-storey building. I rang the bottom bell. ‘Yes?’ said a man’s voice.
    I told him who I was and said I’d come to see Justine.
    ‘Ring the other bell,’ he said.
    This time Chauncey Lim answered. ‘What?’ he said.
    ‘It’s me,’ I said, ‘Istvan.’
    He buzzed me in and I went up the stairs to the second floor. There was a mezuzah on the doorpost so I touched my fingers first to my lips, then to the little metal cylinder. When Chauncey opened the door he didn’t seem very glad to see me. ‘Did you kiss the mezuzah?’ he said.
    ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’m a multicultural kind of goy. Why? Have you converted to Judaism?’
    ‘No, but you needn’t be flippant. When the Lord smote all the firstborns in the land of Egypt, he passed over the houses of the children of Israel where they’d smeared the blood of the Paschal lamb on the doorposts as instructed by Moses. The mezuzah is a reminder of that.’
    ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Did you read that in a fortune cookie?’
    ‘All right,’ said Chauncey, ‘you can make jokes all you like but blood is a serious thing.’
    ‘Tell me about it,’ I said.
    ‘Hear, O Israel!’ said a strange voice. There was a parrot in a large cage in a corner of the room.
    ‘That’s Elijah,’ said Chauncey. ‘He’s a member of the Chun family.’
    ‘Handsome bird,’ I said. ‘African grey?’
    ‘Tishbite,’ said Elijah. ‘First Kings, not dew nor rain.’
    ‘Rosalie does Bible readings with him,’ said Chauncey.
    ‘My word,’ said Elijah.
    ‘OK already,’ said Chauncey.
    ‘Some of my best friends are
goyim
,’ said Elijah.
    ‘Great,’ I said, ‘but I still wouldn’t want my sister to marry a parrot.’
    ‘Why didn’t you phone before coming?’ said Chauncey. ‘Is everything all right?’
    ‘Everything’s fine,’ I said. ‘I just didn’t want you to make any preparations.’ I gave him the whisky.
    ‘Thanks,’ he said. He turned his back on Elijah and lowered his voice. ‘Has H-U-N-T-E-R been around again?’
    ‘Not yet. Where’s Justine?’
    ‘Napping. She sleeps a lot.’ He looked as if he might say more but didn’t. He got two glasses and poured the Glenfiddich.
    ‘
L’haim
,’ said Elijah.
    ‘Cheers,’ said Chauncey without much enthusiasm.
    ‘Here’s to romance,’ I said.
    He laughed in a small