'Flew into New York late last night.'
'I'm sorry I wasn't here when you arrived.'
'Where were you?' said Bunny suspiciously.
'At the market.' This was a lie. I didn't know where he'd been but certainly he hadn't been grocery shopping for four hours.
'Where are the groceries?' said Bunny. Till help you bring them in.'
'I'm having them delivered.'
'The Food King has delivery?' said Bunny, startled.
'I didn't go to the Food King,' said Henry.
Uneasily, I got up and headed back to the bedroom.
'No, no, don't go,' said Henry, taking a long gulp of his coffee and putting the cup in the sink. 'Bunny, I wish I'd known you were coming. But Richard and I have got to leave in a few minutes.'
'Why?'
'I have an appointment in town.'
'With a lawyer?' Bunny laughed loudly at his own joke.
'No. With the optometrist. That's why I came by,' he said to me. 'I hope you don't mind. They're going to put drops in my eyes and I can't see to drive.'
'No, sure,' I said.
'I won't be long. You don't have to wait, just drop me off and come back to get me.'
Bunny walked us out to the car, our footsteps crunching in the snow. 'Ah, Vermont,' he said, breathing deep and slapping his chest, like Oliver Douglas in the opening sequence of 'Green Acres.'
'Air does me good. So when d'ya think you'll be back, Henry?'
'I don't know,' said Henry, handing me the keys and walking over to the passenger's side.
'Well, I'd like to have a little chat with you.'
'Well, that's fine, but really, I'm a little late now, Bun.'
'Tonight, then?'
'If you like,' said Henry, getting in the car and slamming the door.
Once in the car, Henry lit a cigarette and didn't say a word. He'd been smoking a lot since he got back from Italy, almost a pack a day, which was rare for him. We started into town, and it wasn't until I pulled in at the eye doctor's office that he shook himself and looked at me blankly. 'What is it?'
'What time should I come hack to get you'
' o J Henry looked out, at the low gray building, at the sign in front that said optometry group of hampden.
'Good God,' he said, with a snort and a surprised, bitter little laugh. 'Keep driving.'
I went to bed early that night, around eleven; at twelve I was awakened by a loud persistent banging at the front door. I lay in bed and listened for a minute, then got up to see who it was.
In the dark hallway I met Henry, in his bathrobe, fumbling with his glasses; he was holding one of his kerosene lanterns and it cast long, weird shadows on the narrow walls. When he saw me, he put a finger to his lips. We stood in the hall, listening.
The lamplight was eerie, and, standing there motionless in our bathrobes, sleepy, with shadows flickering all around, I felt as though I had woken from one dream into an even more remote one, some bizarre wartime bomb shelter of the unconscious.
We stood there for a long time, it seemed, long after the banging stopped and we heard footsteps crunching away. Henry looked over at me, and we were quiet for a bit longer. 'It's all right now,' he said at last, and he turned away abruptly, the lamplight bobbing crazily about him as he went back to his room.
I waited a moment or two longer in the dark, and then went back to my own room and to bed.
The next day, around three in the afternoon, I was ironing a shirt in the kitchen when there was another knock at the door. I went into the hall and found Henry standing there.
'Does that sound like Bunny to you?' he said quietly.
'No,' I said. This knock was fairly light; Bunny always beat on the door as if to bash it in.
'Go around to the side window and see if you can see who it is.'
I went to the front room and advanced cautiously to the side; there were no curtains and it was hard to get to the far windows ^ without exposing oneself to view. They were at an odd angle ™ and all I could see was the shoulder of a black coat, with a silk scarf blown out in the wind behind it. I crept back through the kitchen to Henry. 'I can't really see, but it might be Francis,' I said.
'Oh, you can let him in, I suppose,' said Henry, and he turned and went back towards his part of the house.
I went to the front room and opened the door. Francis was looking back over his shoulder, wondering, I suppose, if he should leave. 'Hi,' I said.
He turned around and saw me. 'Hello!' he said. His face seemed to have got much thinner and sharper since I'd seen him last. 'I thought nobody was home. How are you feeling?'
'Fine.'
'You look pretty bad to me.'
'You don't look so good yourself I said, laughing.
'I drank too much last night and gave myself a stomachache.
I want to see this tremendous head wound of yours. Are you going to have a scar?'
I led him into the kitchen and shoved aside the ironing board so he could sit down. 'Where's Henry?' he said, pulling off his gloves.
'In the back.'
He began to unwind his scarf. Till just run say hello to him and I'll be right back,' he said briskly, and slid away.
He was gone a long time. I had got bored and had almost finished ironing my shirt when suddenly I heard Francis's voice rise, with a hysterical edge. I got up and went into the bedroom so I could hear better what he was saying.
'- thinking about? My God, but he's in a state. You can't tell me you know what he might '
There was a low murmur now, Henry's voice, then Francis's voice came back to me again.
'I don't care,' he said hotly. 'Jesus, but you've done it now.
I've been in town two hours and already – I don't care.' he said in reply to another murmur from Henry. 'Besides, it's a bit late for that, isn't it?'
Silence. Then Henry began to talk, too indistinctly for me to hear.
'You don't like it? You?' said Francis. 'What about me?'
His voice dropped suddenly and then resumed, too quietly for me to hear.
I walked quietly back to the kitchen and put on water for tea.
I was still thinking about what I'd heard when, several minutes later, there were footsteps and Francis emerged in the kitchen, edging his way around the ironing board to gather his gloves and scarf.
'Sorry to run,' he said. 'I've got to unpack the car and start cleaning my apartment. That cousin of mine tore it all to pieces.
I don't believe he took out the garbage once the whole time he was there. Let me see your head wound.'
I pulled back the hair on my forehead and showed him the place. I'd had the stitches out long ago and it was nearly gone.
He leaned forward to peer at it through his pince-nez. 'Goodness, I must be blind, I can't see a thing. When do classes start?
Wednesday?'
'Thursday, I think.'
'See you then,' he said, and he was gone.
I put my shirt on a hanger and then went into the bedroom and started to pack my things. Monmouth House opened that afternoon; maybe Henry would drive me to school with my suitcases later on.
I was just about finished when Henry called me from the back of the apartment. 'Richard?'
'Yes?'
