Cold Night

didn't look at him. He found himself thinking again about her moving under him, trying, her eyes going from moist to rock-hard, the fright in the corners filling them up-

'I don't know what I'm supposed to say,' she said.

'Neither do I.'

'Jack. .' she said, trying to make herself sound reasonable, 'I really don't know if this is a good way to end things.'

'It's as good a way as any.'

'Do you have to be cryptic? You always sound so cynical about everything.'

He said nothing.

'Jack,' she said, 'I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish it had worked out. I think I'll always wish that.'

'Always?'

'Yes.'

'As long as it was both our faults, I guess that's okay.' Something changed in her face. He knew he had chipped away a piece of her.

'Ginny,' he said, 'I'll always feel that you thought, deep down inside, that almost everything was my fault.'

'Yes, that's true.'

'Can you tell me why?'

'Because you didn't have to do the things you did. You could have been better than what you are.'

'I don't understand, Ginny.'

Her face began to change. The self-consciousness was gone; it was as if she had realized that this was the last time she would be able to say these things.

'Goddammit,' she said. 'What do you think it was like living with you? I never knew what the hell you were going to do. Every time I talked to you I didn't know which Jack I was going to get-the happy one, the one in a black mood, the wiseass one or. .'

She bit her lip.

'Or what?'

'The one with the gun to his head! Don't you think I knew about the box of shells in the kitchen cabinet? Goddammit, Jack!' She began to cry.

She stood up and gathered her things. She threw her coat over her arm, scooping the bags of clothes into her two hands. 'I've got to go.'

'Can't I help you?'

'I'll. . meet him downstairs. I've got to go.'

She opened the door and walked out.

He rose and put his hand on the door. He stood with it open, listening for the elevator, and then it came. The elevator doors kissed shut and he heard it go down.

Behind him, the telephone rang.

'Jack?' Bob Petty's voice said.

'Yeah.'

'Are you okay? You sound strange.'

'I'm all right. You have something on Paterna?'

'Sort of. Paterna is dead.'

A slight chill rose up Paine's back as Petty went on.

'He hung himself in his bedroom. His girlfriend found him about three this morning. She says they had a fight and she sent him home alone last night.'

'Was there a suicide note?'

'No. That's one of the reasons we're holding the girlfriend. But there's something else funny. I started poking around and hit a brick wall on this guy. There wasn't any Les Paterna seven years ago.'

'He was a wash job?'

'New name, new face. Probably a federal witness.'

'Thanks, Bobby.'

'No problem. You sure you're okay?'

'Yeah.'

'Want to shoot some pool tonight?'

'I'm all right, Bobby.'

'Remember what I said about Dannon.'

'I will. Thanks.'

He hung up.

ELEVEN

He was in the second bad place. Again, it was more a feeling that it would get bad because it didn't start that way. He was with Tom, and they were in the woods. For the first time in a long time it was like it had been. He was home. He had his uniform on. Tom had a beard and long hair. The air in the woods smelled good, and it was getting late in the day. He always liked this time. He had his coat off and if it had been just a little warmer he would have taken his shirt off, too. He had an axe in his hands. He swung it in long high arcs and it felt good coming down on the wood. The wood made a good clean sound when it split.

'Been a long time since I did this,' he said.

'Bet they had you doing plenty of other shit in the Army,' Tom said.

'Like peeling potatoes? Not much.'

Tom fiddled with the radio resting on a tree stump. He glided through channels until he found a station playing loud rock and roll.

'What the hell band is that?' Jack asked, indicating the music that was on.

'Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.'

'Didn't they used to be in different bands?'

'Now they're playing together. Like it?'

Jack nodded. 'I haven't heard much of anything the last six months.'

Tom put the chain saw he was oiling down. 'You think you'll end up over there?'

'They say it'll be over by next summer.'

'If Nixon wins in the fall. I know they're holding up those peace talks till after the election.'

'I don't think about it anymore. The news is we won't end up in Nam even if it doesn't end. They're pulling so many guys out now they wouldn't have anybody for us to relieve. I'll probably end up at Fort Bragg. Maybe in Germany.' He looked at the head of the axe, then put it down on the tree stump next to the radio. 'You want to hear some real news? I've got a girlfriend.'

Tom grinned. 'You're kidding.'

'I'm serious.'

'You must be. You never told me about any of the others.'

'This one is for real.'

'How long have you known her?'

'I met her three weeks ago.'

'Three weeks! Christ, you hardly know her.'

'I've got a good feeling about her, Tommy. We've talked about getting married.'

'Jesus!'

'Her name is Ginny. I'll bring her around.' Jack picked up the axe and swung it into the wood.

They piled the cut logs and covered the pile with a tarp. Then Tom pointed to the sky. 'Better get going before it gets dark. I'm tired, anyway.'