cents worth – and the man will have to have his money upon delivery. Now I can leave the money with you for him, and go on to bed, if you're sure you can take care of it. Otherwise, I'll sit up and wait.'
'Of course, I can take care of it,' said Mr. Rhodes. 'You go get your sleep, Bill.'
'Another thing. While you're waiting, I'd like to have you shave. I'll put a new blade in the razor for you. Draw the water if you want me to. Will you do that, Dad?'
'Well, I-' Mr. Rhodes ran a hand over his stubbled face. 'That's – it's pretty hard for me to do, son. I – I have a hard time seeing what I'm doing since I broke my glasses.'
'But you… You didn't have them fixed, Dad? After I gave you the money, and you promised-' Dusty broke off, abruptly. 'All right,' he said. 'All right. You go in and see the optometrist tomorrow, have him give me a ring here at the house and tell me what the bill will be. I'll get a money order for you to give him when you pick up the glasses.'
'Fine,' the old man murmured.
'Now, I'll give you a shave myself. Or, no' – Dusty took a dollar from his wallet and added some change to it 'you can use a haircut, too. This will take care of it. You run along right now, Dad.'
'Well' – Mr. Rhodes looked down at the money-'hadn't I better wait until the groceries…?'
'I'll take care of them myself. I don't want to go to bed, anyway, until you get back from the barber shop.'
'Well, now, there's no need to-'
'I'll be waiting,' Dusty said firmly. 'I want to be sure you – that they give you a good job.'
His father looked at him thoughtfully, the kind of appraising look he had used to give him, back before the trouble had come up, when Dusty's conduct had fallen below standard. Curious, disappointed, but not condemnatory nor surprised.
Dusty stared back at him stolidly.
Mr. Rhodes stood up, shoved the money into the pocket of his stained baggy trousers, and left the house.
The laundry and cleaning men came, men the man from the grocery store. Dusty was in the kitchen, still unpacking and putting away the groceries, when his father returned from the barber shop.
The barber had done his work well. Except for his clothes, Mr. Rhodes might have been Professor Rhodes, principal of Central High School. Dusty was pleased by the transformation, but also annoyed. It confirmed his belief that his father could, if he only chose to, escape the slough of senility into which he seemed to be sinking.
'Well,' he said, curdy, 'I hope we've got enough here to last a while.'
'This meat, Bill' – Mr. Rhodes shook his head. 'Why did you get so much? It'll spoil before we can use it.'
'I can't be waiting around here every morning while they bring a pound or two, can I?' Dusty rammed the package of meat into the refrigerator. 'I can't hang around town in the morning until the stores open. I'm tired when I get off work. I want to 'get home and get to bed:'
'Cornmeal,' murmured the old man. 'And flour. We never use anything like that, Bill.'
'Well' – Dusty's lips pressed.together-'I did the best I could. I didn't suppose there'd be any use in asking you what we needed. When I leave it to you, we usually wind up without anything.'
'No coffee,' said Mr. Rhodes, worriedly. 'No fresh milk. Or bread. No-'
'All right!' Dusty yanked a five-dollar bill from his wallet and flung it on the table. 'That ought to take care of it! Now, I'm going to bed.'
'You don't want something to eat first?'
'I've already eaten. Ate downtown. I – honest to God, Dad, I-'
'You shouldn't have bought so much, Bill.' The old man shook his head. 'All this stuff, and you eating at home so seldom. You'd better let me do the buying after this.'
'How the hell can I? Goddammit, I keep handing money out to you and -.'
He broke off, choking down the angry words, ashamed of himself; seeing the futility of talk. His father's mouth had drooped open in that loose, imbecilic way. His eyes were vacantly bewildered. Swiftly, as he always did when the perplexing or troublesome loomed, he had retreated behind the barrier of helplessness.
'Sorry,' Dusty said gruffly. 'Have a good day, Dad.'
And he entered his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
Well, hell, he thought, with a kind of sullen remorsefulness. Probably he can't help it; maybe it's the way it has to be. He's had too much to cope with in too short a time. He's all right, as long as things run along smoothly, but the minute any trouble starts…
Dusty drew the shades, and turned on the electric fan. He took a few puffs from a cigarette, tapped it out in the ash tray and stretched out on the bed. He turned restlessly, flinging himself around on the rumpled sheets… Should have come straight home from work, he thought. Got to sleep while it was still fairly cool. Going to be a scorcher today, and that fan didn't really do any good. Just stirred up the same old air, made a lot of racket. And… and how the hell could a guy sleep, anyway? How could you when you were knocking yourself out night after night, and never getting anywhere? When you knew you were never going to get anywhere? His father could go on living for years, and, hell, of course he wanted him to. But –
Dusty groaned, and sat up. He lighted another cigarette, smoked moodily, sitting on the edge of the bed. Dammit – the frown on his pale face deepened – it wasn't fair! It was too much to swallow. There was no excuse for it.
So the old man had lost his job. And I suppose I didn't lose anything! He's lost his wife. Well, she was my mother, wasn't she? I lost my mother…
Dusty winced, unconsciously. He didn't like to think about his mother. They'd been so close at one time. He could always talk to her, and whatever his problems were she always seemed to understand and sympathize. Then, well, that rumpus over the Free Speech Committee had come up, and Dad had been kicked out of his job. And after that – everything had been different. All her thought, all her sympathy was for his father. To Dusty, she was like – almost – a polite stranger. She wasn't at all concerned about his dropping out of college. College could wait: he was young and his father was old. She took his sacrifices for granted, as something he was obliged to make, a debt that he had to pay. The trouble wasn't his, but it was. He was shut out of it – she drew further and further away from him, drew closer and closer to his father – but he was expected to pay for it. She wouldn't share it with him, this or anything else. Not really share, as she'd used to. He was just a stranger paying off a debt.
… It was almost noon before he fell asleep. Five minutes later – what seemed like five minutes – -a steady ringing roused him into wakefulness. Automatically, his eyes still closed, he thrust his hand out to the alarm clock. He pressed down on the alarm button – pressed and found it already depressed. He fumbled with it a moment longer, then drowsily opened his eyes.
It was still daylight. Not quite three o'clock. The ringing continued.
He jumped up, ran into the living room and snatched up the telephone.
It was Tolliver, the Manton's superintendent of service.
'Rhodes – Bill?' he said crisply. 'Sorry to bother you, but I'll have to ask you to come down to the hotel.'
'Come… you mean now?'
'Sorry, yes. Mr Steelman wants to see you, and he's not available after five. Come straight to his office, Bill. If anyone gets curious, you can say you came down to see the auditor. A mix-up in your pay or something like that.'
'But I don't – is there something wrong? I certainly hope I haven't done-',
Tolliver's laugh was friendly. 'Sounds like you've got a guilty conscience. No, it's nothing like that. Nothing that concerns you directly… We can expect you right away, Bill?'
'Just as fast as I can get there,' Dusty promised.
He was on his way out of the house within ten minutes, still too grumpy with sleep to care much about the reason for the summons… That.Steelman, he grumbled silently. You'd think he was God instate! of just the Manton's manager. He 'wasn't available' after five, Mr. Steelman wasn't, just couldn't be bothered, no matter what came up. But everyone else had to be available. He could drag you out of bed in the middle of the day, and that was perfectly all right.
Dusty, found a parking space at the rear of the hotel, and went in the employees' entrance as usual. He rode
