“You drink pretty good.”
“Damn good, Nick. I don’t know why I just seem to be able to hold it.”
Nick smiled. They drove away and stopped on Sheridan Road and had a drink and decided that first they would go down to Old Pete’s lot and pay a visit to Gus. Then from there go on out to Los Caballeros where Nick’s old school chums hung out. As they came out of the bar Nick noticed a flower shop across the street and taking Yvonne by the hand went over there and bought her the biggest orchid in the place, and a dozen roses to take home to Mary. It turned out that florist was a Greek and Nick spoke to him in the native tongue and told him that he had just come back, and the Greek got some cognac out of the back and the three of them had a drink together, and some laughs, and then the Greek didn’t want to take the money for Yvonne’s orchid, but Nick insisted.
It was a little after nine as they drove south and there was still a little daylight, but cooling slightly now so that Yvonne put a sweater over her shoulders and came over and sat close to Nick and giggled in that mischievous way and told him she hoped at least one of her girlfriends would see her and wonder where she got him.
All the way down to the lot they talked and laughed about all the mischievous things they had done together when they were small, like taking all the tires out of their garage and piling them on the wagon Nick had built and then taking them down to a junk dealer and selling them. And the time up in Wisconsin that Nick had rented the sailboat after telling the man at the rental place that he had his own sailboat on Lake Michigan when he had never been in a sailboat before. And he and Yvonne had taken it out and when they had tried to dock it they had crashed into the pier and smashed the boat and Old Pete had to pay the damages. And about the time that Yvonne had taken her mother’s diamond wristwatch and buried it in the yard and Old Pete thought the house was robbed and had called the police, and how, accidentally, the dog had dug it up and then Mary had found out it was Yvonne who had taken it and though Mary didn’t want to tell Old Pete had to because the insurance company had already paid Mary off—Mary couldn’t have that on her conscience.
Then they came into the district where Old Pete’s lot was and Nick asked Yvonne how Old Gus was and she said fine, she had seen him several weeks before when he had been out to the house to cook some lamb for Old Pete.
They pulled up in front of the lot with the big buildings all around it, and from where they parked they could see a light in the shack that was tin-roofed, one room, and leaned over slightly. There were three goats grazing near the shack, they could see, though it was almost dark, and as they walked towards it, they heard Gus playing his zither and singing in Greek and could smell the stew that was cooking inside.
Nick held Yvonne’s arm firmly as they walked across the lot and they went up to the door and Nick knocked and Gus asked who it was.
“A friend,” Nick said, camouflaging his voice.
“Nickie,” Gus said, and opened the door.
Nick looked at the old man as he stood there in his black work boots with his baggy old brown pants and wide suspenders and his brown khaki work-shirt, slightly stooped, with that sweet sad smile and the almost shaved gray-black hair, and those kind melancholy eyes that seemed to say everything that there was to be said. Nick just stood there perfectly still looking into those eyes, and finally Gus came forward and took Nick’s head in his huge bony hands and kissed Nick on the forehead and then for a moment held Nick’s head on his shoulder and patted him on the back.
“Nickie,” he smiled that sweet sad smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
There was a long wooden table with several chairs in the center of the room, and a cot in the corner that was neatly made, and from nails on the walls hung goatskins of water and wine. There was a plain wooden crucifix at the head of the bed. And on a shelf near the bed was a Bible, several small stones, and jars of seeds lined up neatly. The room was remarkably clean, the wooden floor scrubbed spotless, as was the tub and one burner stove. Over the big center table where the zither was was a solitary electric light bulb. Except for the pots and pans and an old steamer trunk that was at the foot of the bed, there wasn’t another thing in the room. Nick looked carefully around the room that had not changed one bit since he had last been here, and which many would call a true stoic’s room, which it was not, Nick knew, as no true stoic would ever cook and eat as much as Old Gus did. So barren, so void of color, so simple, Nick thought, and yet how many peaceful happy hours he had spent here. It seemed that this was the only place that he had ever been with Old Pete and not had an argument of some kind. In fact he couldn’t recall ever having heard a real argument of any kind here at Gus’s.
Gus motioned them to sit down at the table and went over and took down a goatskin full of wine and picked up a glass and gestured whether they wanted their wine from the skin or the glass, and Nick pointed to the skin. Gus came over and Yvonne held her head back and he poured the wine so that it funneled in a small stream from about six inches above her mouth, and she gulped several large gulps of the resinous wine and motioned when she had had her fill. Then Gus poured for Nick, then for himself, and sat down and hung the wine from a small nail that protruded from the end of the table.
“You are older, Nickie,” Gus said.
Nick knew that Gus did not mean the way he looked.
“I don’t know what the hell to do,” Nick said, then tried to smile, to make a joke of it, but unable to hide an enormous sense of relief, as if what he had said was truly a confession.
“And you are anxious to do this,” Old Gus said simply. “Whatever it is you don’t know.”
There was a momentary silence. “I guess that’s about it,” Nick said.
“Well, why do anything then,” Old Gus said, “until your nature tells you there is something you must do—you know you can’t hurry nature, Nick. It takes nine months to make a man child. And nine weeks to make a puppy. And your bowels move when nature, not you, moves them. There’s nothing you can do about it,” Gus hunched his shoulders and laughed. And Nick and Yvonne laughed.
And then Nick told Gus that he had finally seen Mount Athos and it was everything Gus had said it was, and more, and told Yvonne how it rises up like a pyramid to the summit which is one great white marble slab, and how he had seen the reflection of the white marblestone in the moonlight. And near the mountain had hidden for a while in a monastery at Karyes and spent the days examining the Byzantine relics stored there and seen with his own eyes the remains of the canal that Xerxes had cut over four hundred years before the birth of Christ.
Then he told how his friend, and Gus’s, Dimitri, had been hung by the Communists, and of the warfare in the hills of Greece, and what a mix-up it was with the British guerillas having one policy, the Americans another, and the Commies another, and top of all that, the Germans.
Then Gus poured some more wine and Nick asked him to play a lament on the zither, which he did; then he played a wild Greek song called “I’ll Smash Everything” and Nick took a handkerchief out of his pocket and stood up and Yvonne took the other end of the handkerchief and Nick, snapping his fingers, led Yvonne around the table in a Greek dance as Gus played faster and faster, and round and round they went, and finally breathless, they stopped and sat down laughing.
Then Gus offered them sweets which they accepted, and drank some more wine and Gus said, “Why don’t you go up north to Wisconsin to the woods for a while and fish—the fishing will be good now.”
“I’m a little restless, Gus,” Nick said. “Maybe in a couple of weeks. We’ll go together, all right?”
“I’ll go fishing any time—I get some fine perch from the Lake now. Did you fish at all during the war?”
“Twice—I caught a catfish in Burma that weighed eighty-eight pounds. They have much bigger ones there.”
“That’s some big catfish.”
“We salted it lightly and wrapped it in banana leaves and cooked it between hot stones, then salted it again. I�
��ve never had better fish.”
“That’s a good way to bake,” Old Gus said. “I have not baked fish like that in a long time. Tell me, though, do the banana leaves make a special flavor?”
“I cannot describe the flavor, but there is none better for my taste.”
“I wonder if it would be possible to get any banana leaves here,” Gus said.
“You might try down on Water Market That is where the bananas come in.”
“Must the leaves be fresh then?”
“The fresher the better.”
“I would like to try that. Would you like a cucumber? I have some fine cucumbers in the garden.”
“Already?” Nick asked.
“I had a feeling it would be an early season.”
“Wait,” Gus said and got up and went outside and came back in with two large cucumbers and sliced them and handed a piece to Yvonne and another to Nick, then passed them the salt shaker. They ate all of the cucumbers and then had another drink of the wine.
“You aren’t going to work for your father,” Gus said.
“I don’t think so, Gus. Not for a while anyhow.”
“I thought as much. Take care, Nick. Take care of yourself. Every man has value.”
“If I only believed that fully,” Nick said.
“You believe in God,” Yvonne said. “You haven’t stopped believing in God, Nick.”
“I think I have only stopped believing in myself sometimes, Yvonne. That’s much the same thing, I think.”
“You think right there,” Gus said. “All that is of good or evil is in the attitude of the will. You cannot truly live to please other men. Simply because you don’t have their will. You will try. Because you have been raised to try. And for a moment, a second, you may touch another man’s will. But that is all. We forget so easily we always have our own will.”
“I believe in God,” Yvonne said.
“I think you do,” Nick said. “I think you even believe in the church.”
“No, I don’t think I believe in the church. I believe in the habit of it.”
“The church will not hurt you,” Old Gus said
“Some church we got,” Nick said. “Lou Duck is the head of it. And Old Pete is the head of Lou Duck.”
Gus laughed.
“When are we going to have some dandelion greens?” Nick asked.
“Any time.”
“Monday?”
“I’ll go to the park Sunday and pick them.”
“I’ll come eat with you, Nick,” Yvonne said.
“Good,” Nick said. “What will you do if Old Pete puts up a building here after the war?”
“There are other lots. I’m not worried. You want lamb with the greens? I have a lamb I have been feeding on thyme so that it has the true flavor of hill lamb that has fed on thyme. I will slaughter it.”
“Good,” Nick said.
“When are we going to have lamb testicles again, Gus?” Yvonne asked.
“I think I can get some next month.”
“You won’t forget me,” she said.
“I will find out when I go to get the lamb Sunday. I have it in a barn near Halstead Street.”
“I heard many things about you when I was in Verdamah that I didn’t know.”
“I suppose.”
“Don’t you ever want to go back?” Nick asked.
“I am content,” Gus said.
“But everybody wants to go back. Or goes back.”
“Everyone has a different will,” Old Gus said.
“Nick, I have made up a new song. I think it is more of an American song than a hill song. I have not made up the words yet, though. I do not know whether the words should be in American or Greek. Maybe you can help me with the words.”
Gus played the song which was very much like a combination of “Don’t Fence Me In” and “I’m an Old Cow Hand”. Strictly a western song, which made Nick and Yvonne laugh, and laugh at themselves for being taken in by Gus’ joke. It was not a bad song, however. And Nick said maybe he would help him with the words.
Then Nick said they had to be going, but that they would be back on Monday in the late afternoon to eat of the dandelions and lamb, and not to tell Old Pete about the meal or he would probably want to come along.
They left and went out to Los Caballeros, which was almost as crowded as when Nick was there two nights before. Raul was there with a redhead he introduced as Speedy Weedy. And Tuttle was there with his bride-to-be. And Ellen the Fair was there with a cadet from the naval base at Glenview. They were all at the bar and couldn’t get over how Yvonne had grown, and were all feeling pretty good and expecting Fred Mosely, another friend of theirs. Fred had lost his right leg D-Day at Normandy, Raul told Nick, and was still being patched up out at the Veterans Hospital in Oak Park.
Raul gave Yvonne his seat and Nick stood beside her and ordered and went to the phone booth and called Nora again, but she wasn’t in. When Nick came back they were all laughing at a story Yvonne had told, and she was telling another one about how does the little male mouse make love to the little female mouse.
Raul said he didn’t know. How?
And Yvonne said, “With his widdle mouse organ,” in baby talk, which caused considerable more laughter, and though Nick laughed, he was really considerably shocked that his own sister was so grown up as to be sitting at a bar telling stories like that.
They were all drinking with a happy defiance and vengeance, as if everything in the world that had to be done was done and nothing was left for them to do except drink with a happy defiance and vengeance (it was better than drinking with an unhappy defiance and vengeance, anyhow—if that was any consolation). Louie the bartender was himself getting pretty drunk, and pouring a little extra and buying rounds.
Nick went and tried to call Nora again before he had even finished his second drink. She still wasn’t in. And when he got back to the bar he started to talk to Ellen a little. And after a while he thought he was getting some place, and he kind of pushed Yvonne off on Ellen’s naval cadet, which seemed fine with Yvonne. Then Nick went back to try to call Nora once more, finally, and as he passed the stained glass window where the bushes were, he saw Old Pete peering in the window. Nick played like he hadn’t seen him and when he got in the phone booth, started to laugh, and when he got back he told Yvonne.
She got the giggles and sneaked a quick look at Old Pete, but played like she hadn’t seen him, too. Then Nick told everyone that Old Pete was out in the bushes and they decided they would all turn around at once and look at him, which they did, and they could see he was embarrassed about being caught spying on his children, and he disappeared. They all had a good laugh. Yvonne especially.
Fred Mosely came in on his crutches. He had a nurse with him. He was a tall dark boy who was almost too good looking. Yvonne had had several crushes on him when he used to come to their house to visit Nick before the war. He seemed very bitter about the leg and didn’t laugh at all, and you could tell the nurse was in love with him. He was very sarcastic, almost rough with her, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.
Ellen got the conversation around to marriage, which didn’t bother Nick at all. He didn’t have any scruples about leading her on, leading her to think that he was available, in order to get into her pants. He knew her well enough to know that after you hadn’t seen her for a while, or rather been out with her for a while, you had to practically start all over. Anyhow, it was a challenge, Nick knew, and an enjoyable one. And for a change he didn’t care too much how he made out. He was feeling pretty good from the drinks, and there was always Nora, if he really had to have it. He could go there. So the chances were, he analyzed happily, that as long as he really didn’t care he would more than likely make out. The thing was how to get rid of the naval cadet. He couldn’t very well let Yvonne go home alone with the cadet. It was quite obvious what the cadet had on his mind. Well, he would figure that out out later.
They drank and talked about the days before
the war, and as if by mutual consent, exaggerated all the things they had done. Then they talked about the war and naturally, with all the women around, exaggerated their experiences, exaggerated them so profoundly, with such honest faces, that they not only began to believe each other, but to believe themselves, never suspecting that they had silently formed a kind of conspiracy, actually the very same kind of conspiracy that they suspected women of always having.
By the time Marci and Pierro came in, which was a little after midnight, everyone, including Yvonne, was feeling good. Earlier Tuttle and his bride-to-be had had a slight argument over the ranch Tuttle was someday going to buy in Arizona and she had gone into the ladies’ room and cried. Of course Ellen and Yvonne and Speedy had gone in to console her, and when they all came out they looked loathingly at Tuttle until finally even the fellows were forced to look at him as if he were some superior brand of a shit. They didn’t want to condemn Tuttle, of course. But there was little else they could do. They were American enough, even if they had been out of the country for several years, to know that when the women lined up on one side as they did in this circumstance, you either gave in and gave up or wrote off the niceties you had extended and the money you had spent on them as a total loss, at least until that time when you could separate them. Then, Nick knew, you would have to start all over extending niceties and spending money.
Pierro, Nick could tell, was feeling rather uncomfortable, but Marci seemed to be enjoying herself. Nick told the group how Marci had sung in musical comedy, and they talked her into singing. The organist played and she sang “Stairway to the Stars” and “I’ll Never Smile Again” and everyone in the place cheered. They stomped and hollered that they wanted to hear more, but Pierro, obviously pleased but trying not to look pleased, politely refused for her as if it were a duty of his he had been performing for years.
Then Nick, who was really feeling very good, giggly good, asked Marci to dance. He had only danced twice before in his life (not including the Greek dances he did so well) and had been drunk both times. Of course Ellen did not like the idea of Nick asking Marci to dance, especially since she had asked Nick earlier in the evening to dance and he had refused. But the main reason he had asked Marci to dance was because he knew Ellen wouldn’t like it—and he was going to play his hand out to the hilt with Ellen, he decided after he had put his hand on her firm little buttocks while Marci was singing, and Ellen had turned almost ragingly, insulted, degraded, and humiliated, around and cracked the sneaky hand hard. The sting on his hand was minor compared to the major incision made on his vanity, especially after the careful calculations he had made. He had managed, however, to give her his best dumbfounded look, as if the hand that had pulled the sneaky trick was not really a part of the real true Nick Stratton, had looked so innocently dumbfounded and shocked at the renegade hand that had he looked at it any longer, he would more than likely have convinced himself that indeed the hand had acted of its own accord.
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