“No, but think about it now. You were always running off somewhere. Always hiding somewhere. Maybe you don’t even remember why you did those things. But I thought you might be able to give me some idea.”
“I can’t explain it. I don’t know. I was a bad kid. I’m sorry about all that.”
The old man shook his head. “That isn’t my meaning at all. You see, I feel as though you haven’t had a good life.”
Jack laughed. “Oh! Well, I’m sorry about that, too.”
“You misunderstand me. I mean your life has never seemed to have any real joy in it. I’m afraid you’ve never had much in the way of happiness.”
“Oh. I see. Well, I’ve been happy from time to time. Things are a little difficult now—”
“Yes, because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. That’s all right. I just never knew another child who didn’t feel at home in the house where he was born. All the others, you know, they come back for the holidays. It was always like a big party in here, all the games they would play, all the noise they made, and your mother laughing at the endless pranks and the nonsense. And if you could find a way to leave, you’d be gone.”
“I can’t explain that. I’m sorry about it—”
“And then you really were gone, weren’t you. Twenty years, Jack!”
Jack drew a deep breath and said nothing.
“And why am I talking to you about this? But it was always a mystery to me. Be strict! People would say that to me. Lay down the law! Do it for his sake! But I always felt it was sadness I was dealing with, a sort of heavyheartedness. In a child! And how could I be angry at that? I should have known how to help you with it.”
“You helped me. I mean, there are worse lives than mine. Mine could be worse.” He laughed and put his hand to his face.
“Oh yes. I’m sure of that, Jack. I see how kind you are now. Very polite. I notice that.”
“These last years I’ve been all right. Almost ten years.”
“Well, that is wonderful. Now, do you forgive me for speaking to you this way?”
“Yes, sir. Of course I do. I will. If you give me a little time.”
The old man said, “You take your time. But I want you to give me your hand now.” And he took Jack’s hand and moved it gently toward himself, so he could study the face Jack would have hidden from him. “Yes,” he said, “here you are.” He laid the hand against his chest. “You feel that heart in there? My life became your life, like lighting one candle from another. Isn’t that a mystery? I’ve thought about it many times. And yet you always did the opposite of what I hoped for, the exact opposite. So I tried not to hope for anything at all, except that we wouldn’t lose you. So of course we did. That was the one hope I couldn’t put aside.”
Jack withdrew his hand from his father’s and put it to his face again. “This is very difficult,” he said. “What can I do — I mean, is there something I can do now?”
“That’s true,” his father said. “Not a thing to be done. I’m sorry I brought it up. I thought it was troubling my sleep. I guess it was. Why did that make me think it was important? I don’t know. All that old grief coming back on me. I’m tired now, though. It seems like I’m always tired.” And he settled into his pillows and turned onto his right side, away from Jack, toward the wall.
GLORY CAME OUT TO THE KITCHEN AND WAITED, AND after a few minutes Jack came out, too. “Would you mind just staying here with me for a few minutes, Glory?” he said. “Till I’ve had some time to check for broken bones.” He laughed and rubbed his hands over his face. “Ahh. I’m feeling the impulse to do something unwise. You don’t have to sit here until the bars close. Unless you want to.”
She said, “I’m happy to sit here as long as you like.”
“When do the bars close in this town, on a weeknight? It used to be ten.”
“I’m not the one to ask, I’m afraid.”
“It’s not quite eight o’clock now. Two hours, maybe three. That’s a long time.”
“Believe me, I have no plans for the evening.”
He laughed. “Good.”
“Would you like coffee?”
“Coffee? Sure. Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all.”
He said, “You should be impressed that I don’t know when the bars close. That means I haven’t even gone near enough to one of them to read the sign on the door.”
She laughed. “I am impressed. Now that you point it out.”
“Yes, I think I should draw up a list of my accomplishments. That would be number one. Then: I am not incarcerated. And: I nearly finished college—”
“I thought you finished. We were all going to come to your graduation.”
“And then the Reverend got a phone call from St. Louis.”
“He said he should have expected that you wouldn’t want to go through the ceremony.”
“Well, there were some other considerations — some problems, shall we say. Omissions, mainly. Does that surprise you?”
“Not at all,”
