The third and final time was when they sat one day beneath a birch tree
while their son dug a hole in the dirt to China. The kike man drove by
in his car and Stern's wife said, "I hate that man."
"You're silly," Stern said.
* * * * *
The man's house lay at a point equidistant between Stern's and the
estate. Since Stern did not want to pass the man's house on foot
anymore, he took to driving his car back and forth to the estate each
day, leaving it at the estate edge each morning and picking it up at
night. Once he was in his car at night, he had a choice of either
driving directly past the man's house or taking a more roundabout route
that avoided the man's house altogether. Each night, as he boarded the
train, he would begin a struggle within himself as to which road to
take. The roundabout road presented the more attractive view and Stern
told himself there was no earthly reason why he should have to pass up
the nicer scenery along this road. The houses were much handsomer and
made Stern feel he lived in a more expensive neighborhood. Stern would
start off along the finer road, but when he had gone fifty yards, he
would throw his car into reverse, back up, and go down the road that
led past the man's house. It was much shorter this way, of course, and
Stern told himself now that distance should be the only consideration,
that if he took the roundabout road, he was only doing it to avoid
having to look at the man's house and was being a coward, afraid that
the man would pull him out of the car and break his stomach. On the few
occasions when he did follow the roundabout road all the way home, he
would walk past his wife and son and lie in bed, sinking his teeth into
his top lip. On most occasions, however, he drove right past the man's
house, going very slowly to show he knew no fear. His license said,
"Driver must wear glasses," and Stern could not drive well without
them, but when he went past the man's house he slipped them off to
present a picture of strength, squinting for sight so he could stay on
the road. Past the house, he would duck down and slip them on again,
shoulders hunched in such a way that if the man was looking after
Stern, he would not see the glasses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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