The Complete Collection. William Wharton

Чтение книги онлайн.

       12

      That evening Billy shows up. I’m asleep and Mother’s still up watching the Johnny Carson show.

      It’s amazing she didn’t drop over dead. The first thing I know is the damned intercom beside my bed buzzes. It’s Mom, practically hysterical.

      ‘Jacky, come! COME! Billy’s here!’

      My brain’s spinning. ‘Billy here? Billy’s in Santa Cruz. He can’t be here.’ I come staggering out in my sleeping ex-running suit, portrait of the lost athlete.

      But there he is. I haven’t seen Billy since he left Paris for school. It’s damned nice to see him. We give each other a semi-hug. My God, he smells like a whore’s shoes. I step back and he’s a sight! He looks undernourished, pimply. When Billy doesn’t eat right, he breaks out. His clothes are filthy, his shoes falling off his feet.

      Mother’s standing there, her hands in little fists over her mouth. I have to admit, he’s enough to make anybody cry. He looks like an overgrown edition of a drawing for a Boys’ Town Christmas seal.

      He tells us he got a letter from Vron saying Grandma’s sick. He asks her how she’s feeling, but she still can’t talk.

      I tell him Dad’s sick now and is in the hospital. I’m trying to maneuver Mom into a chair. I don’t know how much to tell Billy about Dad here in front of Mom.

      I’m figuring where to put him. The best is the garden room where I’ve been sleeping. Out there it’s less chance he’ll bug Mom. I’ll move up here to the side room. I’ll give him a key and tell him to keep that place locked up. The way he slops his stuff, beds unmade and all, it could be too much. I can see she’s already working up a scene.

      I’m somewhat disturbed myself. If he looks bad to me, he must look ten times worse to Mom. Before I know it, she’s dashed into the bathroom and started a bath. I drag her back to the chair. I ask her to go to bed but she doesn’t move.

      ‘Please, Mother. It’s late.’

      I know every minute she’s out here looking at Billy she’s digging her grave. I help her from the chair and lead her to the bedroom. I ease her into bed, get a glass of water and Valium. I put these on the night-stand.

      I dash back and tell Billy to get those clothes off, and take a bath.

      ‘Put the clothes you’re wearing and any clothes in your sack into the clothes hamper. I’ll wash them tomorrow. Here’s a bathrobe and a pair of Granddad’s pajamas.’

      I’m not waiting for Joan, I’ll take those things to the Laundromat myself; if they’re around the house too long, we’ll need to fumigate.

      ‘Bill, you take a good long bath, wash your hair and relax while I help Mother get to sleep. There’s some shampoo under the sink.’

      I go back to the bedroom. Mother’s having a fit. She hasn’t taken the Valium. Her head’s on the pillow but she keeps lifting it to talk. I sit on the edge of the bed and insist she take the Valium.

      ‘What’s the matter with him, Jacky? He looks sick. What’s he been eating? Is that the way they dress in college these days? He looks like a hippy. Does he take drugs, Jacky? Ask him, Jacky, you ask him! I won’t have any drug addicts in my house!’

      On and on.

      ‘He isn’t even’s clean as a hippy; he looks like a bum. I’m amazed the police let him walk the street like that.’

      I listen and wait for the Valium to take effect. Everything she says is vaguely true. That’s the way with Mother. She doesn’t actually invent so much as she grabs onto rag-tail ends of things and elaborates them into personal fantasies.

      Finally she settles down. I quietly sneak away. Billy has just finished his bath and comes out of the bathroom, dripping wet, wearing Dad’s second bathrobe. He comes into the living room, turns on the TV and plops into the platform rocker with his feet on the other chair. Billy’s expert at moving in, making himself at home.

      I go into the bathroom. Everything’s soaking wet and the tub’s still full of dirty water! I guess when you’re into taking showers, you don’t know how to handle a tub. I’m sure he wouldn’t leave it on purpose; he just doesn’t think. I wipe up the mess, throw his clothes in the hamper and clean the tub. I’m not going to say anything. Mostly, I want to find out what he’s doing here, why he isn’t at school.

      When I come back to the living room, I turn the TV down so it won’t wake Mom. Billy needs everything two decibels higher than I can take. At the station break, I get up and turn it off.

      ‘Billy, Grandmom isn’t in very good shape. She’s had two severe heart attacks and is barely holding on. Every day she gets under her belt now is to her advantage. She’s had what’s called an occlusion. She can’t have any shock or strenuous exercise.

      ‘But Grandma isn’t the real problem, bad as that is. Dad’s the one.’

      I tell him what’s happening and I can see his face turning white. All our kids love Dad. He has a knack for playing with little kids. He’d always have something new for them to play with, a new trick or a toy he’d made, or darts, Ping-Pong, a BB gun; something. This was part of Mom’s proof he wasn’t ‘quite right. That’s where Joan gets it; it’s part of that crazy Tremont streak.’

      Billy’s stopped rocking, and leans forward. I don’t want to make it hard, but I want him to know the problems.

      I СКАЧАТЬ