Whatever happened to Henry Oates?

More Often than not, Henry Oates felt unloved and that he was obsolete because he was old and black. As for being black, he was more truthfully a rather pleasant shade of very dark brown, depending upon whether he was seen in the light of day or night. As for being old, he was only 45; but he liked to say that he was 50 as a sort of psychological priming for the eventuality.

There were many things that he loved--large women's asses, the smell of chitterlings and red beans cooking on a winter morning, the onslaught of good whiskey on his groin that sent it thumping like a trip hammer before the effect subsided; but what he hated more than anything else in the world was machines. Aside from the fact that they were ugly and loveless, they were as prolific as rabbits, one machine spawning another in far less time than it takes to make a black baby. Since Henry Oates had no children of his own, at least none that he knew about, he felt surrounded by machinery that seemed bent on destroying him. Not just automation, but by the machinations of government and society as well. Sometimes he felt like a man standing on the last edge of an island that is being chewed away by steel-tipped waves.

Henry had been working with a roofing contractor, carrying bundles of tarpaper to the tops of tall buildings. Balancing himself on the rickety ladder, he felt as graceful as a ballet dancer risking death in the middle of a dangerous pirouette. Invariably, a crowd gathered to watch his performance; and he thought they should have applauded the way he raced up and down the ladder like a lean young monkey, all balls and tail and intricate talent. When the weather permitted, he took off his shirt to show his magnificent torso. He wore clothing only as a concession to law, and he would have worked naked except for the same reason.

Then one day, the company paid him off with words of high praise and the promise of good references. The company had bought a machine, an elaborate conveyor belt, that could carry more stacks of tar paper to the tops of tall buildings in an hour than Henry could carry up in a week. So that night, Henry went looking for a whore to pound his anger out on. He found one waiting for him like a door mat in Joe's Tavern in Cousinsville, where he lived.

Her name was Lillie Dove, a fine brownskin who hung out in Joe's all the time. Henry had seen her before, but he'd never had the courage to approach her, although she seemed friendly enough. But now he had a week's pay in his pocket and a separation check for the same amount; and that gave him the heart he needed. "Lillie Dove, honey, I'm feeling low as a snake's belly. I'd like to buy you the best in the house."

Her eyes locked on his like bright black buttons. "How you know me?"

"I seen you around." He was fascinated by her butt. It was shaped like a broad shelf on which he could rest his elbow, his heart or his head.

"You the police, baby?"

"I ain't the police. Just a man with some money to spend."

"I seen you around, too," Lillie said. "You can spend your money on me."

He said, "Right on," although the expression sounded strange and meaningless to his ears. But he was trying to get down heavy with the lingo of this young generation, because it made him feel younger. Lillie Dove seemed at least half his age; but he could see that she had dyed her hair, too, so he figured that she was at least 30, although she didn't look it.

They sat in the booth at Joe's Tavern drinking Cutty Sark and talking about Burnside in Virginia, where they both came from. Lillie told Henry that she'd migrated North because she wanted to be rich.

"Who don't?" Henry said. "I guess that's the reason all of us come here, to make some money." He told her that he'd been born on a chicken farm in Burnside. "For a long time, I couldn't even look at an egg after I grew up. But I got over that. I like them well enough now. Sometimes I eat half a dozen a day, when I can afford to."

In the back of his mind, he had the idea that eggs--any kind of eggs--were the black man's last defense against the encroachment of white technology. Still, that didn't explain why he ate so many eggs. The logical thing would be not to eat them and to let them hatch, if they would be effective in fighting machines. Although he didn't see how that could work.

"I don't like it here in the North," Henry said. "Someday, I'm going back to Burnside and buy me a small farm."

Lillie nodded. "I want to go back, too. The only problem is, there ain't no money there." She finished her drink. "Let's forget about Burnside and go to my place, baby. It's not far from here." Henry paid the tab and went with her to a hotel just up the street.

He was hung like a mule; but when it came time to make love to Lillie, Henry handled her so gently that she cried sweet tears underneath him; and he felt that wild, rich enlarging of the heart that happens to a man who falls in love for the first time. When it was over, they slept in each other's arms. When Henry woke up the next morning, Lillie was gone.

She had left a note for him, at least she had done that much. "I. O. U. $228. Baby, I'm sorry. But I'm going back to Burnside while I've got this chance. Thanks for loving me."

Henry felt stunned. It occurred to him that he might cry, but he was too old for that shit. He even thought about following Lillie to Burnside and stomping her black ass. But what good would that do? Besides, he didn't even have bus fare to Burnside; and nobody was going to pick up a black hitchhiker. Anyway, he was too much in love with Lillie to even think of stomping her. So he just lay in bed in the cheap hotel room and stared at the ceiling.

The window was open and Cousinsville had come to life all around him. It was summer, the weather as mellow as warm honey, and Henry wondered if Lillie Dove had escaped to Burnside to plant herself a garden. He often dreamed of growing things--indeed, the idea of growth was almost an obsession with him. Every time he saw a pregnant woman, what he wanted to do was to hug her; and sometimes he thought about biting them on their butts. But he wanted to bite a lot of women, pregnant or not; and he thought that had to do with the one part beast that all men have.

He wondered if Lillie Dove felt contempt for him because he had loved her so gently. Some women like to be torn apart; and Henry liked to give it to them rough when the beast in him was more active than usual. But with Lillie Dove, he had treated her as tenderly as though she had been a young baby working its way out into the wonderful world....

Henry got up and washed himself. Then he dressed and went out into the hallway. Somebody had scrawled something on the wall: A Hen Cannot Lay a Goose Egg. Amerika cannot give justice to the people. The whole thing offended Henry, especially the K in America. Furthermore, if he believed there was no justice here, he might as well give up right now. America and Lillie Dove had both screwed him, but he still loved them both. If he could hang on long enough, both of them would eventually give him what he needed.

But for now, he needed a job. He went out onto Barrow Street. On that summer morning, there was a lazy feeling about everything. It was cool now and people moved slowly, as though whatever business they had to do could certainly wait. Henry walked down Barrow Street to a chicken market, where he had seen a sign in the window for a man to work. He knew he would have to kill chickens, because he had asked one day just out of curiosity. He hated chickens, but he also hated the idea of killing anything. Still, he needed the job; it was a question of survival.

So Henry spent eight to ten hours a day killing, picking and cutting up chickens. Sometimes he found an egg forming in the body of a dead hen and he almost felt like a murderer, as though he had interfered with the life process in a way that would undeniably do him harm later on.

He had moved from his boardinghouse into the hotel room where he'd made love to Lillie, with the halfway notion that she might come back to him someday. The summer droned on. And then one day late in September, Henry went home to the hotel and found Lillie Dove waiting for him in bed.

"Hi," she said. She was naked, her sleek brown body glistening against the white sheet.

Henry's heart almost skidded to a standstill. "What's happening?" he said. He thought that sounded ridiculous, saying something like that to somebody who'd robbed you and split over three months ago. "I been waiting for you," he said.

"I know." She lay back, a lovely gleaming gold now where the sun stretched across her breasts and belly like a bright hand.

"What made you come back?"

She reached under the pillow and took out the check she'd stolen from him. "Nobody would cash it. I planted me a pretty garden with the cash I took from you. When that run out, I went to cash this check. But people said, 'Who is Henry Oates? We don't know no Henry Oates from down here.' "

"It's been a long time since I been there," Henry said, almost apologetically. Taking off his clothes, he almost didn't know who Henry Oates was, either. The nerve of her, coming back because she'd got broke! "I guess you want me to cash that check for you?" he said. She twined her arms around him and stuck half a yard of tongue down his throat. He took her, roughly, pouring so much tail into her that he thought for a minute that he might die. Lillie stood every bit of it and whined for more. Henry kept on until his back started hurting. Then he put on his clothes and went to the chicken market to cash the check.

A truck was unloading crates of chickens when he left with the money in his pocket. Just as he walked out of the store, a cable broke high up over his head on the truck and crates of chickens came squalling down on him. He had the distinct impression that he was dying under the weight and wounds of tons of chickens. Lord God! Would Lillie ever find out what happened to him?

• • •

It seemed now that he was floating in alcohol and ether inside a dark cage where birds with sharp beaks pecked at his brain until he felt like screaming. But something--some drug, perhaps, or the stable part of his consciousness--held him in perfect equilibrium between sleeping and waking, between pain and the certain joy that he was alive, though badly damaged.

He felt his head. It was bandaged and there were sore spots on his chest and cheeks. His body ached as though he'd been stomped by large feet. But his equipment still seemed to be in good shape, because he felt a warming there when he opened his eyes in a hospital room and looked at Lillie's big butt.

"What happened to me?" he said.

Lillie was filing her nails, standing by the window. "A truckload of chickens fell on you. What happened to that money you went to get?"

"It was in my pants pocket. Didn't they give it to you?"

She snorted. "They still got it. I ain't got no papers saying I deserve your money."

He felt giddy, almost happy, seeing her there. "You waited around for the money, then?"

"What else?" But when he had the nurse bring the money and he gave it to Lillie, she refused it. "Just hurry up and get well," she said. "I can always make money." He thought he heard a catch in her voice, but he didn't say anything.

She came to see him every one of the seven days he stayed in the hospital.

"Lillie."

"Yeah?"

"Why you come to see me every day?"

"Why not?"

(continued on page 110)Henry oates?(continued from page 106)

"Doggone it, woman! Can't you ever give a straight answer?"

She jerked her head up and looked at him strangely. "I answered you straight. You crazy or something? I think all them chickens falling on your head made you crazy."

"I ain't fooling," he said helplessly. "I love you, Lillie Dove."

She patted him gently on his bandaged head. "Then that's why I come to see you, honey. Because you love me."

When he left the hospital, she was waiting downstairs to take him back to the room on Barrow Street. She stretched him out in the October sun and loved him gently all afternoon, because the doctor had told Henry to take it easy for a while. He felt enchanted, touched by the transforming magic of her thighs, her mouth. "Lillie ... I love you, Lillie...."

"I'm so glad you do," she said, turning the remark away from her, as she always did. Why couldn't she say "I love you" to him, even if she didn't mean it? But he decided not to ask her, because he was afraid that her answer--if she gave a straight answer for a change--might be fatal to whatever feeling he had for her.

"You make my heart do flip-flops," was all he dared say.

Lillie laughed merrily. "Man, I think you crazy."

"Why you keep telling me I'm crazy?"

"Because it's going to make us rich, honey!" She fell to her knees by the bed. "A friend of mine told me about a friend of hers. He got hit in the head the same way you did. He got rich off the insurance company by acting like he was crazy."

Henry hated the idea of pretending, all those doctors probing, trying to catch you in a trap. He told Lillie so and she got up and put on a faded robe that she sometimes wore around the room. "Have you figured up," she said quite bluntly, "what it costs to feed two people nowadays?"

He felt ashamed, although he knew she wasn't putting him down for living off her. "You know the insurance company owes me two thirds of my weekly pay," he said, "for every week I been out of work."

"Two thirds of nothing is nothing," Lillie said, with her nose in the air. "Henry, don't you act stupid now! You just think of the money we could be having! We could go down to Burnside and plant us fifty gardens! All you got to do is what I say."

"I don't like the way that sound." He felt naked and entirely vulnerable; and he pulled an edge of the sheet over his body.

"You think I like the work I'm doing?" Lillie went on. "And I have to work twice as hard now as I did before." She dealt with men; what she meant was that she had to make it with twice as many men as before. Plus him.

"Lillie, the doctor says I'll be able to go back to work in a week or two. I just don't like the idea of gypping anybody...."

She turned on him in such a fury that he almost jumped, thinking she was going to hit him. "You ever think how much money that insurance company gyp people out of?" She scolded, threatened, pleaded; but what finally sold him on the idea was thinking about the men she was making it with just to keep him alive.

So, on his next visit to the doctor, Henry complained of headaches and recurring nightmares. The doctor was an orthopedist who'd sewn Henry's head back up. He sent Henry to a neurologist in Newark, who sent him to another doctor, where women pasted wires to his head and plugged him into a machine. There was no brain damage, they said. But Henry kept complaining. Lillie was constantly on him with advice. "You just act crazy when they ask you questions," she said.

The next doctor was a psychiatrist. "Sometimes I dream I'm a chicken," Henry told him. He wasn't lying; he had dreamed several times that he was a gigantic chicken falling from a truck onto his own head.

"What else?" the doctor asked.

"Somebody's out for my balls."

Writing on a clipboard, the psychiatrist cleared his throat. "Are you proud of your testicles?"

"Ain't you proud of yours?"

"Of course I am. It's just that yours seem to be an obsession with you. Tell me, why do you think somebody's out for your balls?"

Henry squirmed. Man, he didn't like this too tough. "There was this old woman when I was a little boy in Burnside. Everybody called her Aunt Keziah. People said she was a witch. One day, she caught me jacking off."

He was sweating, telling the complete truth.

"Go on," the doctor said. "What did Aunt Keziah do?"

"She put the juju on me," Henry said, the juju being a spell that only a more powerful witch could break. Henry had run away from Aunt Keziah and had lived in terror of her for years. Then he'd forgotten about Aunt Keziah, until those crates of chickens fell on him.

"What kind of spell did she put on you, Henry?"

He felt very uneasy. He wasn't pretending anymore. "I don't know. Some people said she could change people into frogs, birds, things like that."

"Did you ever see her change anybody?"

"Naw ... man ... you can't see a witch at work! She do her work behind your back!"

He was a little ashamed, revealing himself like that. But he hadn't been lying about Aunt Keziah. "Doc, what you think's wrong with me?"

The doctor got up and put away his clipboard. "Physically, you're in perfect shape. Emotionally, well, that's another matter. That blow on your head seemed to open up a whole area of childhood superstitions that you had suppressed all these years. Which is not to say I'm laughing at you; don't get me wrong. What you believe is as real to you as what I believe is real to me."

"You saying I'm sick, doc?" He dreaded the thought.

"Not sick, Henry. You're superstitious. And there's very little that modern science can do about that. What you really need is a witch from Burnside to cure you, somebody familiar with the customs and beliefs there."

Henry looked very suspicious. "You going to tell the insurance company that?"

The doctor laughed. "No, I'm not. I'm going to recommend that they treat the condition as permanent. They'll probably give you a large settlement for the accident."

When Henry told Lillie what the doctor had said, she was excited, but cautious. "We got to wait and see what the insurance company says," she warned him. She rocked Henry all night long, building up his desire and then leveling it off in long, delicious ejaculations. About a week after that, Henry got a letter from the insurance company; it said that he would be interviewed at home by one of its agents.

Now it was hard for Lillie to hide her excitement. "That means they're getting ready to make a settlement for sure," she said. "But they're not going to be as easy to fool as those doctors. Henry, we got to think of some way to convince them you're really crazy."

"I could pretend to be a hen." He said it jokingly and partly in disgust, because Lillie's greed had started to make him mad. But she pounced on the idea at once.

"That's marvelous, Henry! You sure can think tough when you want to! Quick, now, you run down to that chicken market. Get some straw and get yourself an egg, too. A brown one, of course. We're going to make you a nice nest!"

He just looked at her. She sounded like she was crazy. "Lillie, where you get that idea from? What kind of nest you talking about?" Although he knew. He was just stalling for time.

"Why you always play the fool, (continued on page 174)henry oates?(continued from page 110) Henry?" She'd been hopping about and she paused in the middle of a step, frowning, like a dancer caught when the music stops. "You want that money, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"You want to go back to Burnside and farm?"

"Yeah." She knew perfectly well he did."

"This is the only way to do it, Henry. Unless you got a better idea. You got a better idea?"

"Naw."

Still, Henry waited until the day the insurance man was supposed to come before he went and got the straw and a brown egg. He and Lillie spent all morning building a nest on bricks covered over with straw so that Henry would have some support for his behind. Smiling proudly, Lillie dropped to one knee and placed the egg. "Now, take off your clothes and try it, Henry."

Lord God. He felt like a damned fool.

"Henry?"

He got naked. Gingerly, he squatted over the egg. He felt like he was sitting on a toilet bowl. But it was surprisingly comfortable, and he had the sensation that it was just this feeling that he had been waiting for all his life.

"Now you got to make some noise, Henry."

"Huh?"

"You ever seen a setting hen that didn't cluck?"

So he made noise. "Cluckcluckcluckcluckcluck. Cluckcluckcluckcluckcluck." His genitals tumbled over the edge of the nest in a massive pile. At least anybody who saw him would know he was a rooster and not a hen.

Lillie clapped her hands. "That's tough, Henry! That's real tough!"

He felt rather proud of himself, too, and he patted the nest amiably when he got up. Lillie washed and straightened her hair, as though she were the one to be interviewed. Then she cleaned the room and Henry helped her.

Usually, Lillie was the one who made the bed; but that day, Henry did. When he was plumping up Lillie's pillow, he found a smelly little bundle of garlic and herbs tied in leather. His scalp prickled. A juju bag. Why hadn't he seen it before?

"Lillie?"

She was sweeping the floor carefully near the nest, almost dancing with the broom. "Yes, Henry? What is it, honey?"

He was horrified. He held the juju away from him like it was a piece of wet manure. "Lillie, you believe in this stuff?" he said, although he certainly did. He was about to throw it out the window, but Lillie stopped him angrily.

"Give me that! How come you think everything's working in our favor?" She snatched the juju and stuck it in her bosom.

"That's just plain superstition!" he cried. "Where'd you get that nasty thing from, anyway?"

"My aunt in Burnside gave it to me last summer. She's even stronger than Aunt Keziah, in case you didn't know. Aunt Keziah's old and feeble now. People hardly pay her any attention anymore."

Henry felt a little less upset, hearing that. But he was still uneasy with Lillie. Then they started making love a few hours before the insurance man was due; and Henry felt fine again. He didn't mind that juju's being around, as long as it came from somebody stronger than Aunt Keziah. And was working for him. He felt supremely confident when the man from the insurance company tapped on the door at three o'clock sharp and Lillie went to open it. Stark-naked, Henry settled on his nest and started softly clucking. The egg was a delicate mound in the hollow between his testicles and his butt.

"Good afternoon, sir," Lillie said very nicely. Henry heard the insurance man mutter something. Henry just sat and clucked.

"What's he doing over there?" the insurance man said.

"He's sitting on an egg," Lillie said, most graciously.

Henry said, "Cluckcluckcluck." He felt as comfortable as anybody in the world.

Lillie invited the insurance man to sit down. "I sent out and got some Chinese tea bags when I heard you were coming. Would you like me to fix you a cup? I'd like a cup myself."

"Thank you," the insurance man said. He was a young white man and he tipped over to Henry on his nest. "Mr. Oates, I'm from the insurance company," he said.

"Cluckcluckcluckcluckcluckcluck!" Henry said.

Startled, the insurance man drew back. "How long has he been this way?"

"Since shortly after the accident," Lillie said. She was boiling water on the hot plate. "Sir, do you take sugar with your tea? I take two spoons myself."

"Three spoons," the insurance man said. "My goodness gracious! The doctors indicated this, but we had no idea that the case was this bad!"

"It's pretty bad," Lillie said grimly. "He's been sitting there off and on for weeks now, trying to hatch that egg."

"But that's impossible," the insurance man said. "I mean, a man can't hatch an egg."

"I know that," Lillie said wisely. "But you try explaining that to Henry."

The insurance man took another tentative step. "Mr. Oates, you'll never be able to hatch that egg."

"And it's a brown egg, too," Lillie said. She sounded very concerned.

Henry clucked, rolling his eyes in a kind of gleeful intensity.

The insurance man shook his head sadly. "Poor fellow, he's very bad off."

"He sure is," Lillie said. "Here's your tea." He drank it and left, promising to come back in a week to see if Henry was better.

Lillie waited until the insurance man's last footsteps were heard on the stairs. Then she whooped and threw her teaspoon into the air. "We did it, Henry! Honey, we did it!"

But Henry just sat there. He said, "Cluckcluckcluck."

"Henry ...? Get up, Henry." Her voice rising in panic, Lillie balled her fist and walloped him against his head. "Get up, Henry!"

He staggered off the nest, dazed and blinking, like a man coming from a deep sleep. "What happened? What'd you hit me for?"

Lillie looked very frightened. "Henry, you didn't get up when I told you. Why didn't you get up?"

He was thinking about that, too. It was almost as though something--some force, some desire, perhaps?--had glued him to the nest. "I guess I was just too happy to move," he said. But that was not true. For the few seconds before Lillie hit him, he had been unable to move. And now his muscles felt stiff and sore. "It's from sitting in that position," he said. "We got to make that nest higher so my legs won't get so cramped. This way, I've got to squat too low."

"There ain't going to be no next time," Lillie said. She was sitting on the bed, looking very dismal. "When you didn't get up, Henry, I thought I'd die. I thought, Lillie, look what you done to that man. Got him sitting there naked on a nest. Looking like a black fool. And for what? For money, that's what."

"What's wrong with money?" Henry said. "From the way things been going, I'd say we're going to be pretty rich." He took her in his arms and kissed her cheeks, her breasts.

"I think we ought to call the whole thing off," Lillie said. Her breath was coming harder.

"You must be joking," Henry whispered between her breasts. "Why call it off? All the toughest work's been done. Now you want to call it off."

"Please, Henry."

"But why?"

"I don't know." Her breasts were heaving like a bellows. "I saw you sitting there. I'm scared, I guess."

"You scared? You love me, that's what."

She nodded. "I love you."

He felt triumphant, heated all over. "Take off your clothes, then. Show me how much you love me."

Later on that afternoon, Henry went for a walk, to stretch his legs. It was a mild clay in November and the streets of Cousinsville had thinned out, as though people had already begun to escape to Burnside for the impending winter. Henry felt very good, indeed. He had imitated a hen, but he had also proven himself a man whom a woman could love. He walked on, strutting proudly. Man, it really would be tough if he and Lillie could go back to Burnside and settle on a small farm there.

From time to time, some of his cronies greeted him.

"What's happening, man?"

"Ain't nothing happening, brother."

"It's a beautiful day, brother."

"Right on, man."

He didn't feel so awkward, using the expression now. Sometimes he raised his fist and gave the black-power salute. He felt like a young man all over again, and he thought of Lillie waiting for him back in the hotel as a man contemplates a good meal yet to be enjoyed. His legs and muscles felt better, too. Sitting on that nest had cramped him more than he'd realized; and he strode now with a vigorous bounce to his walk.

He had come to a new building that was being completed for old people in Cousinsville. All aluminum and glass, it was shaped like a tall coffin set on one end. The company that had dismissed Henry was putting on the roof, using the same conveyor that had cost him his job. Henry stood and watched it work. Senseless and repetitive, the metal arms carried the tar paper to the roof and dumped it in a singularly graceless manner. Henry remembered his own performances, how they had sometimes attracted large crowds. But he was the only one watching now. One of the workers recognized him and waved. Henry waved back. An old folks' home, put together by machines. Lord, let me get some money, let me get to Burnside and die with some dignity. He walked on rapidly.

When the insurance man came a second time, Henry was sitting again on the brown egg, clucking energetically. He had made the nest higher and it was considerably more comfortable. Sitting there, he thought about the juju that Aunt Keziah had put on him so long ago. But he couldn't remember what it had been--the ugly old black woman shaking herbs and rattles at him, mumbling words he couldn't understand. Well, he was wearing now the juju that Lillie Dove had got from her aunt, and he was convinced that everything was going to turn out all right.

"He thinks the egg might hatch this week," Lillie told the insurance man.

"How do you know that?" the insurance man asked. "Did he tell you? Can he talk?"

"He'll talk to me sometimes, if he's in the right mood," Lillie said, somewhat guardedly. She looked worried.

But the insurance man was very sympathetic. "We want to do right by him," he said. "You tell him not to worry about a thing."

Indeed, it was Lillie Dove who seemed to worry. Now that Henry had carried off his second encounter with the insurance man, Lillie was almost beside herself for fear that the company would find Henry out. She wanted him to stay on the nest 24 hours a day. "They might be watching you through the window with binoculars," she said. When Henry closed the blinds, she put her fingers to her lips and listened at the door, snatching it open to find an empty hallway. "They might have somebody listening to see if we say anything to give ourselves away." When Henry wanted to go for a walk, she demanded that he stay in the room. "Suppose they see you out walking, after I told them you sat on that nest all the time." He calmed her as best he could, usually by making love to her; and she came out of intercourse counting and spending the money she thought they were going to get. She talked about clothes, a new car, an apartment in Newark or even New York.

Henry's head snapped up. "What about that farm in Burnside?"

Lillie looked very evasive. "Well, we could rent us a small farm, Henry, if there's money enough left over." He lit a cigarette and lay quietly beside her. So she'd been lying all the time, leading him on. And it seemed to him that the curse of unhappiness had been the juju that old Aunt Keziah had thrown at him like an evil dust.

"Lillie," he said softly--so softly that it seemed that an ant might have cried out in his brain, stepped on by the weight of his unhappiness--"Lillie, why you been lying to me? You never wanted that farm. You never even went close to Burnside with that money you stole from me." She was so quiet. "This juju doesn't belong to your aunt. Where'd you get this juju?"

"I bought it in Newark," she said.

Utterly betrayed, he took the juju from around his neck and rammed it under her pillow. And he thought again of machines, how each part of them is committed to the function of the whole, as he had committed himself to Lillie, inside all the metal and screws and washers of love. Did she really love him? He asked her and she kept very quiet. He asked her again. "Lillie, do you love me?"

"You know I love you, honey." But she was lying, her voice as hollow as ungreased bearings. She threw a leg across him--to convince him, he supposed--and even as he felt himself hardening to the incredible warmth of her, there was a coldness deep inside his gears as frigid as the North. He felt old, ungreased and unnecessary, even as he plowed through her warm fluids, solid and assured and uncertain at the same time, as she answered his piston thrusts with a practiced expertise that made him know that the two of them were nothing more than the things he had despised all along.

When the insurance man came for the third time, Henry was naked again, sitting on the brown egg in the nest in the corner. "Cluckcluckcluckcluckcluck. Cluckcluckcluckcluck." But his heart wasn't in it and he felt like a sick old hen, sitting on a brown egg that would never hatch, living with a woman who would never love him, living in a country that required him to ransom his manhood before it even thought of giving him justice. What was it he had read on the wall? A Hen cannot lay a Goose Egg. Amerika cannot give justice to the people.

"We've decided to offer Mr. Oates a large settlement," the insurance man said. "We haven't decided on the amount. But I assure you that it will be substantial."

Lillie's excitement spurted out and touched everything, like spilled oil. Henry could feel it oozing over his brain. He felt dizzy. "Cluck ... cluck ... cluck...."

"A man who has to live like that," the insurance man said, "certainly deserves all we can do for him."

"You're so right," Lillie said. She was impatient for him to go now, Henry could see that. She was so greedy, such a liar, such a beautiful, ugly woman that he knew he could never live with her as a man again.

"It was so good of you to come," Lillie said, and she shut the door behind the insurance man.

"Henry, honey, we're rich!" She came toward him, walking like a beautiful machine, as a woman does when she is white and in love and weighted down with mink and diamonds, perhaps even an apartment in New York, perhaps even a nation.

"Cluckcluckcluckcluckcluck," Henry said. He loved her too much to take away her dominant dream. Furthermore, she was the one who had the juju now.

"Henry." Lillie looked alarmed, but pleased, too. "You can get up now, Henry."

Henry settled himself more comfortably on the egg and clucked mechanically. But he did not get up.