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Something Happened :: Хеллер Джозеф
Страница: 381 из 398He lookedhaggard. There were sleepless shadows under his eyes and it was all he could do to force even a nervous smile.
"You hear things," he confided. "This time I'm really worried. Has anyone said anything about me?"
"I hear you've been to Toledo again."
"They aren't even talking to me about the convention. By now they usually give me a theme."
"Maybe they don't have one."
"I have to meet with Horace White. With him and Arthur Baron. I never have anything to do with Horace White."
"Maybe he's got some ideas."
"Two on one," Kagle chirps at me with a wink, as soon as my wife starts back into the house again.
"Coons?"
He misses my irony.
"Not for me. Not in Toledo. I've got good connections there. You ought to tag along sometime. I'll take good care of you."
"Should I ask him to stay for dinner?" my wife asks.
"Don't."
"He looks so unhappy."
"He wants to drive around."
"I don't even care," Kagle says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, drying his lips. "I'm getting tired of doing the same thing anyway. Where's the kids? I'd like to say hello to them before I go."
"Out playing."
"What about the little one? The one with the brain damage?"
"He's resting. He has to."
"You know, you shouldn't blame yourself about your boy," Kagle tells me, twisting himself back into his car. "I don't blame myself about my leg. It was God's will."
"Sure, Andy," I reply with a nasty smile, gritting my teeth. "And you don't worry about your job. If you lose it, it's God's will."
"Heh-heh," he comments hollowly.
"Heh-heh."
"Why didn't you let him stay?" my wife asks.
"I didn't want him."
It is God's will.
I've got Kagle's job.
"You were with Andy Kagle today," my wife says.
"How can you tell?"
"You're walking with a limp. Is his leg getting worse?"
"No, why?"
"His limp is worse than ever. You're almost staggering."
I straighten myself from a position characteristic of one of Kagle's and lean in a slouch of my own against the newel post of the staircase leading to the second floor.
"No. He's the same."
She looks at me askance. She's been drinking wine again while helping the maid prepare dinner. Her bleary eyes are tense and patient. (I cannot meet them.) She senses something, and moves ahead carefully with mixed curiosity.
"Then you must have been with him a long time."
"I got his job.
"You hear things," he confided. "This time I'm really worried. Has anyone said anything about me?"
"I hear you've been to Toledo again."
"They aren't even talking to me about the convention. By now they usually give me a theme."
"Maybe they don't have one."
"I have to meet with Horace White. With him and Arthur Baron. I never have anything to do with Horace White."
"Maybe he's got some ideas."
"Two on one," Kagle chirps at me with a wink, as soon as my wife starts back into the house again.
"Coons?"
He misses my irony.
"Not for me. Not in Toledo. I've got good connections there. You ought to tag along sometime. I'll take good care of you."
"Should I ask him to stay for dinner?" my wife asks.
"Don't."
"He looks so unhappy."
"He wants to drive around."
"I don't even care," Kagle says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, drying his lips. "I'm getting tired of doing the same thing anyway. Where's the kids? I'd like to say hello to them before I go."
"Out playing."
"What about the little one? The one with the brain damage?"
"He's resting. He has to."
"You know, you shouldn't blame yourself about your boy," Kagle tells me, twisting himself back into his car. "I don't blame myself about my leg. It was God's will."
"Sure, Andy," I reply with a nasty smile, gritting my teeth. "And you don't worry about your job. If you lose it, it's God's will."
"Heh-heh," he comments hollowly.
"Heh-heh."
"Why didn't you let him stay?" my wife asks.
"I didn't want him."
It is God's will.
I've got Kagle's job.
"You were with Andy Kagle today," my wife says.
"How can you tell?"
"You're walking with a limp. Is his leg getting worse?"
"No, why?"
"His limp is worse than ever. You're almost staggering."
I straighten myself from a position characteristic of one of Kagle's and lean in a slouch of my own against the newel post of the staircase leading to the second floor.
"No. He's the same."
She looks at me askance. She's been drinking wine again while helping the maid prepare dinner. Her bleary eyes are tense and patient. (I cannot meet them.) She senses something, and moves ahead carefully with mixed curiosity.
"Then you must have been with him a long time."
"I got his job.