The Human Stain Page #6

I can't do this, Coleman.

I love you.

I love you, but I can't.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,

and welcome to the Saint Nicholas Arena.

Tonight, in our opening battle,

from East Orange, New Jersey

weighing a hundred and sixty-two pounds,

Coleman "Silky" Silk!

A record five wins and no losses!

From Rochester, New York,

weighing a hundred and seventy pounds,

Sugar "Pete" Cunningham!

A record six wins, one loss.

Take it easy with the guy, okay?

Let's give the people

their money's worth.

Dance him around for

three, four rounds, then go to work.

Hey, kid.

Hey!

I asked you nicely to give

folks their money's worth.

You could have stopped

the forth round instead of the first.

I'm a hundred and sixty-two pounds.

He's a hundred and seventy.

I'm supposed to let him

hit me in the head

five, ten, extra times

to put on a show?

I ain't holding up no n*gger.

It's beautiful,

isn't it?

I have to go.

Stay tonight.

Mm-mm.

No. I never stay.

Just this once.

Hi. Good morning.

Would you like some breakfast?

Uh... Eggs Benedict and ham?

Sit down. Please.

Coffee?

No milk, huh?

There you go.

Okay.

Looks like Monica Lewinsky

isn't going to

get a job in New York

for the time being.

Can't you avoid the f***ing seminar?

I don't give a f***

if Monica can't find a job.

Does f***ing Monica care if my back

hurts from milking those f***ing cows?

Does she f***ing care that I have to

clean up other people's sh*t

in the f***ing post office?

You think losing your f***ing job

when you're about to retire is a big

deal, don't you, Coleman? I mean...

No... I hate to tell you,

but it ain't!

Having your stepfather put his fingers

in your c*nt, that's a big deal.

Having your husband come up

behind you with an iron pipe

and hit you in the f***ing head,

that is a f***ing big deal!

Having your two kids

suffocating and dying!

That is a big f***ing deal!

Don't you ever f***ing

talk to me about that.

Because you don't f***ing know!

I knew I shouldn't have stayed.

I knew I shouldn't have stayed.

It was a mistake.

It was a big mistake.

Even whores know better.

They know.

Men don't pay you to sleep with them.

They pay you to f***ing go home.

Hey, there.

Hey, Prince.

Yeah, it's me.

You remember me, don't you?

It's Faunia.

Did you forget me?

I wanted to come and see you,

but I couldn't.

Hi.

I haven't seen you in...

it must be three, four, months.

Prince missed you.

He got out the other day.

The other birds attacked him.

They would've killed him.

He doesn't have the right voice.

It's because he's hand-raised.

He's been hanging around

people like us all his life.

A crow that doesn't know

how to be a crow.

The first time I tried,

it was a month after they died.

I got all dressed up.

Even my mother

would have been proud.

You know I called her?

I did.

Called her to tell her

my kids were dead.

Mom, it's Faunia.

Twenty years.

No call for twenty years.

She said, "Oh, I don't know anybody

by that name" and hung up.

B*tch.

Why did they have to

break the door down?

Even the nurse said-she said later,

There wasn't a heartbeat.

Not when they first showed up.

Not a heartbeat.

Why couldn't they let me die?

Couldn't even get that right, could I?

No.

I think I made a mistake this morning.

Faunia Farley,

custodial staff, you know?

Just, uh... just doing my thing.

So where were you?

- I was starting to get worried.

- I walked around. Went to a movie.

Listen, I'm...

I'm sorry.

Everything that I said,

and everything that I did, I...

You were right.

What happened to me is nothing.

No. You lost everything.

You lost your wife, you lost your job.

They took your life away from you

over a stupid, pissy little word.

- That's not nothing.

- Maybe.

I don't think

you can measure sorrow.

Yeah

I brought you these.

They're doughnuts.

They're from the...

from the doughnut store. Jelly.

Listen, if you don't want me,

If you want me to go, you know,

then I understand that because...

I understand and I won't blame you.

- What are you smiling at?

- Just so happy to see you.

Same here.

I'm happy, too.

Listen, there's something

I need to tell you.

It seemed impossible to me

that someone as vital as Coleman

could have been killed in

what the police called,

a freak accident.

The more I thought I about it,

the more I began to feel that

Coleman and Faunia could not

have died without the presence,

somewhere nearby,

of Lester Farley and his pickup truck.

At what point did you get in

your truck that morning?

Before sunup.

- Why did you get in your truck?

- To get him.

- To get who?

- The Jew professor.

- Why were you going to get him?

- Because I had to.

You were going to kill him?

Oh, yes. All of us.

That was the plan.

- There was planning, then.

- There was no planning.

- Uh, but you knew what you were doing.

- Yes.

But you didn't plan it?

No.

- Did you think you were back in Vietnam?

- No Vietnam.

Were you thinking about the kids?

Was this payback?

No payback.

Weren't you trying to get revenge

to take revenge for that?

No.

No revenge

- Were you depressed?

- No. No depression.

- Angry?

- No more anger.

But you drove your truck

into their car.

I didn't kill them.

I didn't kill them.

They killed themselves.

- What do you think?

- I checked with the police and

there are no skid marks at

the site of the accident,

no sign of a collision.

I think Lester Farley is delusional.

Completely delusional.

My name is

Herbert Keble.

And I am among those who failed

to rise to Coleman's defense

when he was accused of racism.

Coleman, I can't be

with you on this.

That is what I said

to my everlasting shame.

I should have spoken up

to say then what I want to say now

in the presence of

his former colleagues

that the alleged misconduct

never took place.

Coleman Silk and his wife, Iris,

were betrayed by

the moral stupidity

of a censorious

and coercive community.

And I was a part

of that community.

We all were.

Mrs. Keble.

My name is Nathan Zuckerman.

I was a friend of Coleman's.

- I thought your husband's speech was

- I'm not Mrs. Keble.

Are you?

I'm Coleman Silk's sister.

Iris. Nice name.

And when is the happy day?

June 14th.

Have you told her?

When will you?

You plan on bringing her

home for dinner?

I told her

my parents are dead.

Dead?

You have no brother?

You have no sister?

There's no Ernestine?

There's no Walter?

I don't want to be Coleman Silk,

the Negro Classics professor.

And that's how it would

always come out, Mom.

You know it, and I know it.

Funny, I never thought of you

as black or white.

Gold.

You were my golden child.

Look, Mom...

I haven't figured

the whole thing out yet.

Will you have children?

Yes, I suppose so.

You aren't going to

let them see me, are you?

My grandchildren.

Mom, you'll tell me

sit in the waiting room

in Penn Station at 11:15 a.m.

I'll walk by with my kids

in their Sunday best.

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