OURSTORY opens in the mind of Luther L. (L for LeRoy) Fliegler, who is lying inhis bed, not thinking of anything, but just aware of sounds, conscious of hisown breathing, and sensitive to his own heartbeats. Lying beside him is hiswife, lying on her right side and enjoying her sleep. She has earned her sleep,for it is Christmas morning, strictly speaking, and all the day before she hasworked like a dog, cleaning the turkey and baking things, and, until a fewhours ago, trimming the tree. The awful proximity of his heartbeats makesLuther Fliegler begin to want his wife a little, but Irma can say no when sheis tired. It is too much trouble, she says when she is tired, and she won’ttake any chances. Three children is enough; three children in ten years. SoLuther Fliegler does not reach out for her. It is Christmas morning, and hewill do her the favor of letting her enjoy her sleep; a favor which she willnever know he did for her. And it is a favor, all right, because Irma likesChristmas too, and on this one morning she might not mind the trouble, might bewilling to take a chance. Luther Fliegler more actively stifled the littletemptation and thought the hell with it, and then turned and put his handsaround his wife’s waist and caressed the little rubber tire of flesh across herdiaphragm. She began to stir and then she opened her eyes and said: “My God,Lute, what are you doing?”
“MerryChristmas,” he said.
“Don’t,will you please?” she said, but she smiled happily and put her arms around hisbig back. “God. you’re crazy,” she said. “Oh, but I love you.” And for a littlewhile Gibbsville knew no happier people than Luther Fliegler and his wife,Irma. Then Luther went to sleep, and Irma got up and then came back to thebedroom, stopping to look out the window before she got into bed again.
LantenengoStreet had a sort of cottony silence to it. The snow was piled high in thegutters, and the street was open only to the width of two cars. It was too darkfor the street to look cottony, and there was an illusion even about thesilence. Irma thought she could yell her loudest and not be heard, so puffilysilent did it look, but she also knew that if she wanted to (which she didn’t)she could carry on a “conversation with Mrs. Bromberg across the way, withouteither of them raising her voice. Irma chided herself for thinking this wayabout Mrs. Bromberg on Christmas morning, but immediately she defended herself:Jews do not observe Christmas, except to make more money out of Christians, soyou do not have to treat Jews any different on Christmas than on any other dayof the year. Besides, having the Brombergs on Lantenengo Street hurt realestate values. Everybody said so. The Brombergs, Lute had it on good authority,had paid thirty thousand for the Price property, which was twelve thousand fivehundred more than Will Price had been asking; but if the Brombergs wanted tolive on Lantenengo Street, they could pay for it. Irma wondered if it was truethat Sylvia Bromberg’s sister and brother-in-law were dickering for the McAdamsproperty next door. She wouldn’t be surprised. Pretty soon there would be awhole colony of Jews in the neighborhood, and the Fliegler children and all theother nice children in the neighborhood would grow up with Jewish accents.
IrmaFliegler had hated Sylvia Bromberg since the summer before, when Sylvia washaving a baby and screamed all through a summer evening. She could have gone tothe Catholic hospital; she knew she was having a baby, and it was awful to havethose screams and have to make up stories to tell the nice children why Mrs.Bromberg was screaming. It was disgusting.
Excerptfrom Appointment in Samarra by JohnO’Hara