'Pretty smart for an internist,' I said.
'Occasionally. Mostly I'm just trying to shag the nurses.'
'Be my approach,' I said.
Klein looked at his watch again. 'Time for rounds,' he said. 'If I can help, I will. I liked Walter Clive.'
THIRTY-TWO
PUD POTTER'S APARTMENT was down a side street off the square, past a sandwich shop and a place that sold baseball cards and used CDs. Upstairs, in the back, with a nice view of the railroad tracks. In the little front hall, I had to step over a narrow mattress on the floor. Beyond it there was just a bedroom, kitchenette, and bath. A window air conditioner was cranking as hard as it could, but the room wasn't cool. The mattress was bare except for a pillow and a slept-under green spread. The bed in the bedroom was unmade, but at least there were sheets. The walls were painted beige. The woodwork was painted brown. There were dishes in the sink in the kitchenette, and a couple of damp-looking towels littered the bathroom floor. Pud and Cord sat on the unmade bed while we talked. I leaned against the wall. They hadn't been awake long.
'Hard times,' I said.
'Pathetic, is what it is,' Pud said.
He wore a sleeveless undershirt and jeans. He had weight lifters' arms and a boozer's gut. Cord sat next to him in a pair of tennis shorts and no shirt.
'Things moved pretty swiftly,' Cord said. 'Take us a little time to get our feet under us.'
'And do fucking what?' Pud said.
'Get on with our lives,' Cord said.
'Neither one of us knows how to do shit,' Pud said. 'All we did was service the women, and you weren't even any good at that.'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Cord said.
'You think he don't know?' Pud said. 'He knows. Don't you know?'
I said, 'Sure.'
'I ever have any trouble with you?' Pud said.
'No, never,' I said. 'We were fooling around once at a party at the Clive place. But no trouble.'
Pud nodded.
'I drink too much,' he said. 'Makes it hard to remember sometimes. I know I can be a damn fool.'
'Lot of that going around,' I said.
'What do you know?' Cord said.
'About what?'
'About me.'
Somehow the air conditioner had succeeded in making the room clammy but not cool.
'I know you are gay. I know you prefer boys to men. I know your wife was working truck stops.'
Cord looked at the floor.
'See,' Pud said. 'I told you he knew.'
Cord shook his head slightly, still looking down.
'What's the thing about truck stops?' Pud said.
'Cord can tell you,' I said.
'I don't know anything about it,' Cord said.
He sat motionless. His voice was very small.
'She'd have made sure you knew,' I said.
'Knew what?' Pud said.
Cord began to cry softly. Pud stared at him and then at me.
'Who said what? What's the matter?'
Cord continued to cry quietly. Pud put one arm around his shoulder.
'Come on,' he said, 'come on now, Cord.'
Cord turned his face in against Pud's shoulder and sobbed. Pud's face reddened and his body stiffened, but he kept his arm where it was. He didn't look at me.
'What's going to happen to us?' Cord mumbled against Pud's shoulder.
'We're gonna be fine,' Pud said. 'We just need a little time to get our feet under us, you know. We're all right. We'll meet somebody else. We'll be all right.'
I waited.
