when I've had the meemies.
I drank about a quart of water, showered, and used my electric shaver with a trembling hand. Then I dressed and went next door to bum aspirin and black coffee from Mabel Barrow. (I've never figured out how to work that Italian coffee-maker my wife bought.) But Mabel wasn't home, so I had no choice but to drive to my office in the Town Center Circle.
Goldie was at her desk in the reception room, took one look at me, and shook her head sorrowfully.
'Save me,' I pleaded.
She went down to the Dally-Deli and brought back a big container of black coffee and a prune Danish. Goldie is a sweet kid-great boobs-and I'd make a play there, but she's married to a police sergeant, and who needs trouble like that?
I gave Goldie the Danish, took the coffee into my private office, shut the door, and locked it. All my salesmen were out on calls, but I didn't want any of them returning unexpectedly, busting in on the boss, and catching him adding a double of California brandy to his morning coffee, which is what I did.
After I got half of it down, I decided I might as well live, lighted a cigar, and started reviewing a million-dollar whole life insurance policy I had recently sold to Marvin McWhortle, who owns the place where Marleen works.
Around eleven o'clock I went out to the reception room and drew a cup of water from the cooler.
'Feeling better?' Goldie asked.
'Ready for a fight or a frolic,' I assured her.
Back in my sanctum I added another shot of brandy to the water. That did the trick. I held out my hands, and they were steady enough to do brain surgery. By the time I was ready to leave, about noon, I was in fine fettle- whatever a fettle is. I told Goldie I'd be back in a couple of hours. She nodded, she knew I always had lunch with my brother on Thursday.
I stopped at the Dally-Deli and picked up two humongous corned beef sandwiches on rye, side orders of cole slaw, and an extra order of kosher dills, which Chas dearly loves. I went next to Ye Olde Reserve Fine Spirits amp; Liquors Shoppe (it opened last year) and bought a liter of Jack Daniels. Then I boarded my new Lincoln Towncar and started out.
I took my usual route, south to the Palmetto Park Road, then far west to the Fleecy Road turnoff, then north on Fleecy to a nameless dirt lane, and then west on that. Way back in the boondocks on five acres of what used to be hardscrabble farmland is where my brother lives and works. He calls it a studio, I call it a barn.
My brother-seven years older than I am-left two legs in Vietnam. The government wanted to fit him with prostheses and elbow canes, but Chas opted for a motorized wheelchair. He had a rough couple of years after he was shipped back-his mind was messed up-but he had psychotherapy and got it all together again.
Now he writes children's books. He's not getting rich, but with his disability pension he does okay and won't take a cent from me.
He's twice the man I'll ever be.
'Hello, shithead,' he greeted me.
'Hi, asshole,' I said. 'You look beat. Been running the four-forty again?'
'I could take you any day,' he said. 'You're in great shape, your ass is dragging and your eyes are bleeding. You been dipping your wick around town again?'
'And I'm going to keep doing it,' I said, 'until I get it right.' I displayed my purchases. 'How does sour mash go with corned beef?'
'Let's find out,' he said. 'Pull up a chair.'
It was more of a counter than a desk, a sheet of heavy plywood across two sawhorses, high enough so he could wheel his chair partly underneath and get close to his word processor.
That's where I spread out our lunch and poured lack Daniels into the jelly jars he used for glasses.
'How's Tania?' Chas asked.
'Okay.'
'And Marleen?
' She's fine.'
'You're a lucky man,' my brother said. 'And a foursquare bastard for cheating on her.'
'I can't help it,' I said. 'It's a terrible habit-like picking your nose.'
He laughed. 'I hope she nails you, sues for divorce, and takes you to the cleaners.'
'She won't, ' I told him.' Marleen knows I tomcat around.
She doesn't care who I boff-as long as it isn't her.'
Chas looked at me. 'Sonny boy,' he said, 'when it comes to women you're a total illiterate. Who you shagging these days?
Anyone special?'
'Not really. I've got my eye on the butterball who lives next door.
Great ass. But her husband works in the same lab as Marleen, and we visit back and forth occasionally. It would be hard to manage.'
'You'll find a way,' he said.
His questions about my love life were not just idle curiosity. When I said that Chas had straightened out his brain, it wasn't the complete truth. Since coming home legless from Nam, I don't think he had even tried making it with a woman. He said he just wasn't interested, but he sure as hell was interested in my extramarital feats.
I asked Dr. Cherry Noble about Chas. She was the shrink who pulled him out of his funk.
'He's a lot better,' I told her, 'but I don't think he's functioning in the sex department. He lost his legs, but he's still got all the necessary machinery. What gives?'
'He feels he's an incomplete man,' Dr. Noble explained.
'He's lost a part of himself. He's convinced women could be turned off by what he thinks is an ugly deformity. He's afraid that if he tries, he'll be rejected, or he won't be able to perform. So he doesn't try.'
'How long will that last? For the rest of his life?'
'It could. But I'll try to bring him out of it. Chas is a fine man, and if anyone deserves a little joy, he does.
'Don't tell him,' I said, 'but send me your bills.'
'There won't be any bills,' she said.
I had one jelly jar of sour mash, but Chas was starting on his third when I left to go back to the office. He gave me an autographed copy of his new book to give to Tania. It was called The Adventures of Tommy Termite.
I was outside, unlocking the Lincoln, when Dr. Cherry Noble pulled up in her white jag. She got out and came over to me.
'Herman!' she said. 'What a pleasant surprise. I haven't seen you in ages-but I was thinking about you this morning. How are you?'
'If I felt any better, I'd be unconscious,' I said. 'And you?'
'Fine, thank you. You visited Chas?'
'For lunch. Every Thursday.'
'Oh, that's right, I forgot. How is he feeling?'
'Fine, I think,' I said. 'Is he making any progress, doc?'
'Mmm,' she said.
'Well, keep trying,' I urged her. 'I really appreciate it.'
She nodded, and I watched her walk toward the barn. She was wearing a short pink linen sheath.
Great legs.
DR. CHERRYNOBLE has Todd was the only Vietnam veteran I ever C treated. I read all the literature on the subject I could find, but nothing I read prepared me for the severity of his problems.
Fortunately, they proved as short-lived as they were intense. Still, it was almost two years before daily sessions could be gradually reduced.
I make no claim that it was my skills as a therapist that led to the disappearance of his horrendous nightmares, deep depression, and sudden onslaughts of uncontrollable weeping. I believe that with no assistance whatsoever he would eventually have recovered by himself.
Chas Todd is a strong man.
