“No. You
“I’m sorry.”
“All I wanted was...just to be...your friend.”
“I’m really sorry.”
John, sobbing, rolled onto his side. He looked odd and vulnerable without his glasses, as if his face had been stripped naked. His arms were hugging his belly.
“I’ll get your glasses,” Owen said.
John snuffled.
Owen went over to the dresser. He found John’s glasses on a plastic tray beside the ice bucket. When he picked them up, the right lens dropped out and struck the dresser top and broke into three pieces.
“Shit,” Owen muttered.
“What?”
“They’re broken.”
John sighed loudly. He sobbed a couple of times, then said, “Lemme see?”
Owen picked up the pieces of the lens. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wreck your glasses.”
Sitting up, John swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
He cupped his hands above his lap, and Owen gave him the broken remains of the glasses.
“Some friend you are,” he said.
Owen sat on the edge of the other bed and leaned toward him.
“How do you feel?”
John shook his head.
“Do you need a doctor?”
“How would I know? I’ve never gotten beat up before.”
“That’s surprising.”
“Hardy-har,” John said.
“Do you want to hit me?”
“No. Why would I want to hit you?”
“I hit you.”
“Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“Come on, why don’t you take a swing at me?”
“No thanks.”
“Come on.”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Owen laughed. John looked up at him, a slight smile on his face.
His left cheek was swollen and red.
Owen felt bad again.
“Maybe we can get your glasses repaired in the morning,” he said.
“Gonna need a new lens. And frame. See how the frame’s busted?”
Owen saw.
“You did that,” John said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll get you a nice, new pair.”
“You think that’ll make everything okay?” John asked.
“No. But I do wish I hadn’t hit you.”
“Not as much as I do.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Look, should we go out and get some ice cream or something? Would that make you feel better?”
“Nice, big dessert for the fat boy.”
“I could go for some, myself. There’s an ice cream shop across from the photo place.”
“Yeah.”
“Wanta drive over there? I’ll treat you to a cone.”
“Wonder if they’ve got waffle cones,” John said.
“Probably.”
“I love waffle cones.”
“Let’s go see.”
“Promise you won’t hit me anymore?” John asked.
“I promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Yeah. Cross my heart.
“Cause it doesn’t feel good, you know?”
“I know.”
“That’s how they killed Houdini.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
John wiped his eyes, then got to his feet. As he straightened up, he winced. “Feel like my stomach’s all fucked up.”
“Maybe you
“Ice cream oughta fix me up.”
“Okay. Let me hit the john first.”
“You already did.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Owen hurried into the bathroom, used the toilet, then washed his hands.
When he came out, a telephone directory lay open on one of the beds. John, bending over it, flashed a smile at Owen and ripped out a page.
“Hey! What’d you do that for?”
“Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“Case you change your mind about paying a visit to Dana.”
His eyes, red and watery, looked strange without glasses. “This has her address on it.” He fluttered the page. “
“You know her last name?”
“I know many things.”
“What is it?”
“Tucker.”
“What’s Dana’s last name?”
“
“We’re going for ice cream,” Owen said. “Nothing else. And you shouldn’t tear pages out of telephone books. Other people might want to use them, you know.”
John smirked. “My bad.”
“You really are an asshole.”
“Least I don’t go around
Outside, Owen pulled the door shut and tried the knob to make sure it was locked.
“Since you’re buying,” John said, “I’ll drive.”
“Without your glasses? That’d be fun.”
John smiled and blinked at him. “Contacts, man. Ever hear of contacts?”
“You’ve got contacts on?”
“Sure.”
“How come you were wearing
“I look good in ’em.”
“Sure.”
“So, I’ll do the driving.”
