A pause. 'No, Mom, just me.'
'Go find him, Pat, and tell him to get down here,' she said.
Then she turned back to Francis. 'We got a lovely spray of Easter lilies from your mother this morning,' she said to him. 'How is she?'
'Oh, she's fine. She's in the city now. She was really upset,' he added uncomfortably, 'when she heard about Bunny.' (Francis had told me she was hysterical on the telephone and had to go take a pill.)
'She is such a lovely person,' said Mrs Corcoran sweetly. 'I was so sorry when I heard she'd been admitted to the Betty Ford Center.'
'She was only there for a couple of days,' said Francis.
She raised an eyebrow. 'Oh? She made that much progress, did she? I've always heard it was an excellent place.'
Francis cleared his throat. 'Well, she mainly went out there for a rest. Quite a number of people do that, you know.'
Mrs Corcoran looked surprised. 'Oh, you don't mind talking about it, do you?' she said. 'I don't think you should. I think it's very modern of your mother to realize that she needed help. Not so long ago one simply didn't admit to problems of that nature.
When I was a girl '
'Well, well, speak of the Devil,' boomed Mr Corcoran.
Henry, in a dark suit, was creaking down the stairs with a stiff, measured tread.
Francis stood up. I did, too. He ignored us.
'Come on in here, son,' said Mr Corcoran. 'Grab yourself a brewski.'
'Thank you, no,' said Henry.
Up close, I was startled to see how pale he was. His face was leaden and set and beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead.
'What you boys been doing up there all afternoon?' Mr Corcoran said through a mouthful of ice.
Henry blinked at him.
'Huh?' said Mr Corcoran pleasantly. 'Looking at girlie magazines?
Building yourselves a ham radio set?'
Henry passed a hand – which, I saw, trembled slightly – over his forehead. 'I was reading,' he said.
'Reading?' said Mr Corcoran, as if he'd never heard of such a thing.
'Yes, sir.'
'What is it? Something good?'
The Upanishads.'
'Well aren't you smart. You know, I've got a whole shelf of books down in the basement if you want to take a look. Even have a couple old Perry Masons. They're pretty good. Exactly like the TV show, except Perry gets a little sexy with Delia and sometimes he'll say 'damn' and stuff.'
Mrs Corcoran cleared her throat.
'Henry,' she said smoothly, reaching for her drink, 'I'm sure the young people would like to see where they'll be staying. Maybe they have some luggage in the car.'
'All right.'
'Check the downstairs bathroom to make sure there are enough washcloths and towels. If there aren't, get some from the linen closet in the hall.'
Henry nodded but before he could answer Mr Corcoran suddenly came up behind him. 'This boy,' he said, slapping him on the back – I saw Henry's neck clench and his teeth sink into his lower lip – 'is one in a million. Isn't he a prince, Kathy?'
'He has certainly been quite a help,' said Mrs Corcoran coolly.
'You bet your boots he has. I don't know what we would've done this week without him. You kids,' said Mr Corcoran, a hand clamped on Henry's shoulder, 'better hope you've got friends like this one. They don't come along like this every day. No, sir.
Why, I'll never forget, it was Bunny's first night at Hampden, he called me up on the telephone. 'Dad,' he said to me, 'Dad, you ought to see this nut they gave me for a roommate.'
'Stick it out, son,' I told him, 'give it a chance' and before you could spit it was Henry this, Henry that, he's changing his major from whatever the hell it was to ancient Greek. Tearing off to Italy.
Happy as a clam.' The tears were welling in his eyes. 'Just goes to show,' he said, shaking Henry's shoulder with a kind of rough affection. 'Never judge a book by its cover. Old Henry here may look like he's got a stick up his butt but there never breathed a finer fella. Why, just about the last time I spoke to the old Bunster he was all excited about taking off to France with this guy in the summer '
'Now, Mack,' said Mrs Corcoran, but it was too late. He was crying again.
It was not as bad as the first time but still it was bad. He threw his arms around Henry and sobbed in his lapel while Henry just stood there, gazing offinto the distance with a haggard, stoic calm.
Everyone was embarrassed. Mrs Corcoran began to pick at the house plants and I, ears burning, was staring at my lap when a door slammed and two young men sauntered into the wide, high-raftered hall. There was no mistaking for an instant who they were. The light was behind them, I couldn't see either of them very well but they were laughing and talking and, oh, God, what a bright sudden stab in my heart at the echo of Bunny which rang – harsh, derisive, vibrant – through their laughter.
They ignored their father's tears and marched right up to him.
'Hey, Pop,' said the eldest. He was curly haired, about thirty, and looked very much like Bunny in the face. A baby wearing a little cap that said Red Sox was perched high on his hip.
The other brother – freckled, thinner, with a too-dark tan and black circles under his blue eyes – took the baby. 'Here,' he said.
'Go see Grandpa.'
Mr Corcoran stopped crying instantly, in mid-sob; he held the baby high in the air and looked up at it adoringly. 'Champ!' he shouted. 'Did you go for a ride with Daddy and Uncle Brady?'
'We took him to Mc Donald's,' said Brady. 'Got him a Happy Meal.'
Mr Corcoran's jaw dropped in wonder. 'Did you eat it all?' he asked the baby. 'All that Happy Meal?'
'Say yes,' cooed the baby's father. ' 'Yes, Drampaw.''
'That's baloney, Ted,' said Brady, laughing. 'He didn't eat a bite of it.'
'He got a prize in the box, though, didn't you? Didn't you?
Huh?'
'Let's see it,' said Mr Corcoran, busily prying the baby's fingers from around it.
'Henry,' said Mrs Corcoran, 'perhaps you'll help the young lady with her bags and show her to her room. Brady, you can take the boys downstairs.'
Mr Corcoran had got the prize – a plastic airplane – away from the baby and was making it fly back and forth.
'Look!' he said, in a tone of hushed awe.
'Since it's only for a night,' Mrs Corcoran said to us, 'I'm sure that no one will mind doubling up.'
As we were leaving with Brady, Mr Corcoran plumped the baby down on the hearth rug and was rolling around, tickling him. I could hear the baby's high screams of terror and delight all the way down the stairs.
We were to stay in the basement. Along the back wall, near the Ping-Pong and pool tables, several army cots had been set up, and in the corner was a pile of sleeping bags.
'Isn't this wretched,' said Francis as soon as we were alone.
'It's just for tonight.'
'I can't sleep in rooms with lots of people. I'll be up all night.'
I sat down on a cot. The room had a damp, unused smell and the light from the lamp over the pool table was greenish and depressing.
'It's dusty, too,' said Francis. 'I think we ought to just go check into a hotel.'
Sniffing noisily, he complained about the dust as he searched for an ashtray but deadly radon could have been seeping into the room, it didn't matter to me. All I wondered was how, in the name of Heaven and a merciful God, was I going to make it through the hours ahead. We had been there only twenty minutes and already I felt like
