"It was amazing," I said, sitting down on my bed. "Incredible. But I'm too tired to talk about it right now. Let's get together at breakfast and I'll tell you everything."
"Okay," he said. "Get some rest." He turned to leave and then stopped and turned around to face me. "Oh, yeah," he said, "I guess Mazzerelli is gonna pack it in. There's a rumor going around that he's withdrawing. He's supposed to leave tomorrow morning. I thought you'd want to know."
I was stunned. The school year was almost over. Since January, I had been so preoccupied with organizing protests and keeping my grades up and attending to my relationship with Paulette that I had almost forgotten about Vinnie. Occasionally I would see him by himself in the hall and we would exchange greetings and talk a bit, but since he had moved out of the dormitory, we never really got together like we used to. He was in the infirmary and I was in the dorm. I guess he decided that he'd had enough, though.
"I'll go over and see him tomorrow morning," I said, getting into bed and pulling the covers up. "Switch the light off when you leave, will you, Gordie?" I said, and he did.
Garlands of mist wreathed the gray-green hills in the distance when I awakened the following morning. The sky was overcast, as though it had not quite recovered from the rain the day before. I dressed quickly and bolted down the dormitory steps, peeling off from the other students, who were going to breakfast in the dining hall, and heading across the campus to the infirmary. I walked inside and the nurse was at a desk by the door. "You're here to see Vincent, aren't you?" she said with a maternal smile. I nodded, and she pointed to a door down the hall. I walked down and found his room. Vinnie was seated on the side of his bed. His back was curved over the edge of the bed and his head was hanging down, as though he was looking for something on the floor. The room lights were off, but the sun had broken through the clouds for the moment and the room was filled with sunlight. There was a large window that looked out onto the campus, and in the distance students could be seen rushing across the lawn to get breakfast. For a moment, I thought about my plans to meet Gordie, but I knew it was more important for me to be with Vinnie.
"Vinnie?" I said, and he looked up at me slowly. He looked completely defeated. His eyes were filled with tears.
"You were right, Rob. You were right," he said. "I never should have let Spencer put me in here. It is like segregation. I was here all alone. I have no friends. No one came to see me. Not even you, and you're the only friend I have." I felt awful. I thought of all the times I had told myself to stop by the infirmary to see him, and then put it off to write a letter to Paulette or to my folks or to dream about the protest, or to do my schoolwork to try to stay on the honor roll. Vinnie was right. In my struggle to keep my own head above water in the sea in which we were all immersed, I had gradually let him go.
"But why are you leaving now?" I said. "School is almost over."
Still seated on the side of the bed, he clasped his hands before him, squeezing his eyes shut so the tears fell to the floor in a tiny pool. "Because I can't stand it anymore!" he screamed. "It's worse than hell!" I flinched. The nurse appeared at the door looking worried. She was holding a glass of water in one hand and a small paper cup with a pill in the other.
"Vincent," she said in a soothing voice, "your father should be here any minute. Would you like a piU? It'll make you feel better." Vinnie nodded and she walked over to him and gave him the pill, which he took, and then he took a swallow of the water and handed the glass back to her. He was already packed. His suitcase was next to the door, along with boxes of the stuff I had helped him carry over from the dormitory when he moved in. It was a standard hospital room with a bed, a metal night table, an easy chair, and not much else except the view from the window of the campus lawn, which was beginning to turn green with the arrival of spring; the trees, which had begun to bud; and the well-worn footpaths that everyone used to get about, everyone except Vinnie, of course. I realized that he must have died a slow and painful death in this room, and I shuddered to think I had had a hand in it.
The nurse disappeared for a moment and then returned. "Vincent, I think your father has arrived." Footsteps approached, sharp against the green linoleum tiles in the hallway, and suddenly a tall, slender man in a black suit, a black Borsalino hat, and a long black cape appeared, filling the doorway. He took one look at Vinnie and said, "Vincenzo, get up. We must leave this place at once." Vinnie gave him a long look, but at first he didn't move. He just smiled a drowsy smile and resumed looking at the floor. Then his father walked over to Vinnie and took him gently by the arm, helped him to his feet, and embraced him, speaking quietly to him in Italian. When his father had finished, he turned to the nurse. "Are these his things?" he said, nodding at Vinnie's belongings at the door.
"Yes," said the nurse. "This is everything."
"I'd be happy to help you with them, sir," I said. "I can take them out to the car if you like," and I bent over and picked up two of the boxes. Vinnie's father looked suspicious.
"Who are you?" he said sharply.
"That's Rob Garrett," said Vinnie. "He's the only friend I have in the whole school." Vinnie's father seemed to relax.
"Thank you," he said. "That would be very helpful. Just give them to the chauffeur and tell him to come in and get the rest." I took the boxes to the front door of the infirmary and stepped outside to find a huge black limousine with chrome appointments that were gleaming in the sunlight. The driver was wearing a chauffeur's hat, jodhpurs, knee-length brown leather boots, and a short jacket with buttons on both sides of the chest. He gave me a patronizing smile, took the boxes from me, and put them in the trunk.
"Is the doctor still inside?" he said.
"Yes," I said, "he should be out in a minute. He'd like you to go in and get the rest of Vinnie's things." The chauffeur left the trunk door open and went inside the infirmary. I was standing next to the limousine, admiring it, when I realized there was someone inside. Although the interior was shadowy, the door had been left open a bit, enough to see a pair of tan trousers with a razor-sharp crease and, protruding from the cuffs, a pair of yellow silk socks and brown alligator-skin oxfords. I had seen alligator-skin shoes advertised in Ebony, but I'd never seen a pair in real life. I knew, however, that they cost a fortune. Dr. Mazzerelli walked out of the infirmary and Vinnie walked out behind him.
"I want to thank you for the friendship you have given to my son," said Dr. Mazzerelli, turning to me. His face was very grave, and his eyes, which were small and dark like Vinnie's, never left mine. "You are the only friend Vincenzo has had in this place. You are a fine young man." It was a compliment I did not feel I deserved, but I felt powerless to turn it down. "Before we leave, there is someone I want you to meet. He rode up with me from New York this morning." He opened the limousine door wide and called to the passenger inside, "Joe, come out for a second. There are some people here I want to introduce you to." And from the dark interior of the limousine emerged the massive head of Joe Louis. It was the color of butterscotch, with large, misshapen ears and a few small clumps of scar tissue around the eyes that gave him a vaguely oriental appearance. , thick, plum-colored lips that held the mouth in a characteristic pout, a thinning patch of dark wiry hair, neatly trimmed and flecked with gray, and tired brown eyes, utterly without guile. Over shoulders still broad as a roof beam and a barrel chest, he was wearing a turtleneck sweater of smooth, dark gray wool and a long tweed overcoat. When he stepped from the limousine and raised himself to his full height, it was clear why his opponents had been terrified by the sight of him.
How strange, I thought, that he should appear now, at the moment of Vinnie's departure, this hero of my boyhood dreams, and I wondered, had he been brought along to console Vinnie or to distract him? Did he even know about Vinnie's plight? God, he's huge, I thought. Even now, when his career in the ring was over, when the roar of the crowd, once as big as a hundred thousand or more, had turned to silence and he had retired to a windowless room in the company of l
awyers and accountants, his presence quickened the blood. But I couldn't see even a trace of a smile on his lips. Those lips, Jesus, they told the whole story. Two pressed roses of suffering under the fringe of a light mustache. Mashed, pounded, split by flying fists. Shaped by the pain of life's disappointments but revealing only resignation. Never agony. And never defeat. I wanted to ask him how, in the wake of all he had experienced, all that he had suffered, the grim childhood in a sharecropper's cabin, the stinking, run-down colored gyms, the roadwork, the brutal regimen of training, the moments of greatness, celebrated by millions, followed gradually by the awful recognition of betrayal, the evaporation of friendships, money, love, and, worst of all, the ability to take a punch, and finally, the humiliation of wasted opportunities inside the ring and out—how, in the face of all this, he managed to endure. And I thought I knew the answer without asking him the question, or at least I told myself I did. It certain with the strength that has kept us all alive in the midst of the wilderness.
"Joe, this is my son, Vincenzo, and his friend, Rob Garrett," said Dr. Mazzerelli. "Boys, I'd like you to meet Joe Louis." Vinnie put out his hand and Joe shook it. Then I put out mine, and as I shook the hand of Joe Louis, I felt the same sense of love and gratitude and yearning I had felt toward my parents when I said goodbye on the day I arrived at Draper. Then I looked into his eyes, and I knew all there was to know about him. He was completely defenseless. He could no longer see the blows before they arrived. His eyes were haunted, like Vinnie's when I first entered his room in the infirmary. They were the eyes of one who has lost his way and been swallowed up by the world around him.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Joe Louis said in a thick Alabama drawl, "How you doing, fellas?" He took a quick look around the campus. "Nice place they got here," he said. "Make a helluva training camp." For Dr. Mazzerelli, Joe's remark seemed to be a signal to prepare to leave. He told the chauffeur to start the limousine and announced that he had to get back to New York, since he had canceled his morning appointments to pick up Vinnie.
"Joe agreed to come along to keep me company, but Joe's a busy man," said the doctor. "He's got appointments, too. Isn't that right, Joe?"
"That's right, Doc. But you callin' the shots," said Joe, with a deadpan expression. I shook hands again with Joe Louis and with Dr. Mazzerelli, and then I turned to Vinnie, fighting back tears. He seemed to be on the verge of tears as well, and we shook hands for a long time, and then I put an arm around his shoulder and he did the same to me, and with our free hands, we wiped the tears from our eyes.
"It's time to go, fellows," said Dr. Mazzerelli, who was standing at the open door of the limousine with the edge of his cape gathered in his hand. Joe Louis climbed back inside first, followed by Vinnie, and then, in one smooth move, the doctor took off his hat, wrapped the cape around his body, and disappeared into the limousine, shutting the door behind him. The chauffeur started the engine and steered the car slowly down the driveway and off the campus, like an ocean liner leaving a harbor, and then they were gone.
The sun had found another opening in the sky and the campus was covered with brilliant light. I looked around and began to notice things for the first time in months. Spring bulbs had burst through the earth, filling the flowerbeds around the dormitories and the borders of the footpaths with dabs of yellow and cream and red. The last of the dead leaves left over from the winter had been raked away, and new grass had begun to fill in the brown patches on the lawn. Other than a few birds high in the trees that were plaintively calling to one another, the campus was perfectly still, immaculate, and I shuddered at the sight and ran to class as fast as I could.
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