“Nora,” he started.
“Well, I got out of there. I had never had any money of my own until my husband died. And I couldn’t get the thought of the way he died out of my mind. It was as if, as if—I killed him. I tried everything to blot it out. First it was liquor. Then marijuana. And men. Then women. Everything but the main-line. For some reason I never tried that. I had to get out of Chicago so I went to Miami. I stayed at the best hotels and went out every night and went to the races every day. I couldn’t get rid of that picture, no matter what I tried. Soon my money was gone. Traveling with the kind of people I did it was natural I drifted into this. And believe me, Nick, I loathe it. I’m on a treadmill and I can’t get off,” she said distantly but, nevertheless, slightly bitterly.
“And me?” he asked weakly.
“I thought you were different. For me you were.”
He put his drink down and came around to the side of the bed where she lay propped up. He put his hands on her shoulders but he could feel that she didn’t want him to touch her and he took his hands away. “I’m sorry, Nora,” he said, then paused for long while.
“We can get out of this,” he spoke softly.
“How?” she asked, still bitter and remote.
“Marry me,” he said.
Her eyes, startled, shifted to his.
There were seconds of silence.
“I don’t want pity, Nick,” she said. “We’d never be happy if I married you because you pitied me.”
“But I love you. I told you that before. I love you. I’ll go to work next week. And work hard. Please, Nora.”
“You don’t think Old Pete would let you marry me. You know better than that. He’d cut you off cold.”
“We’ll go away then. I can get a job.”
“What can you do, Nick?”
He stared vacantly at the floor for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Nick. It would be impossible.”
And suddenly he began to cry. He sat there on the edge of the bed, in his shorts, with the drink in his hand looking so terribly old for one so young. She had never heard a man cry like that before. It was almost like the whimpering of an animal. She reached out her arms and took his head in her hands and laid his head between her breasts and stroked his hair.
“I’m sorry, Nick,” she said.
Then, suddenly, she knew for the first time that she was really in love with him.
He cried for a half hour, then fell asleep. At noon he awoke and she was gone. She had left a note on the night stand: Thanks for everything, Nick, I don’t think we should see each other again. Good luck to you always. And if it makes any difference I shan’t ever forget you.
Never before in his life had he felt so truly bewildered. He dressed as if in a daze and went outside into the bright sun. He was still too confused to begin to analyze it all, and too tired. But walking to the car he thought: A cat has nine lives. But how many times does a man die?
Because somehow that was the way he felt.
CHAPTER XXXI
WHEN Nick came home that afternoon, Yvonne was sitting on the front porch with Pat.
“Nick, you should have seen Dad last night. Up in the suite. He was actually tight. So tight he thought he was home. He went into the bathroom and undressed to his shorts,” Yvonne giggled. “And came out into one of the parlors. It was hilarious.”
“I wish I’d seen that,” Nick said trying to smile. But it was a hurt smile. He just could not hide his bewilderment and dejection.
“Did you have a good time, Pat?” he asked.
“Wonderful. I’ve never been to a party like that,” she said.
Yvonne was wondering what had come over Nick. Pat assumed he had a hangover.
“There’s more news,” Yvonne said. “Or have you heard?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” he said emptily.
“Pierro proposed to Marci.”
“No?” Nick said showing his first sign of life.
“He did,” Yvonne said. “It’s still a secret but I think she’s going to accept.”
Well, Nick thought (but, somehow, not bitterly), he’s getting exactly what he wants again. It comes so easy for him. Always so easy.
“They should be good for each other,” he said. “I hope they’ll be happy and successful.”
“You meant that didn’t you, Nick?” Yvonne said.
“Yes,” Nick said. “I mean it,” he said softly. “Excuse me, will you? I’m going up and lie down for a while.”
“Is something wrong, Nick?” Yvonne asked. It was almost inconceivable to Yvonne to hear Nick say “Excuse me” the way he just had.
“No, I’m just tired again.” He smiled at them both, but he still could not hide the hurt in the smile.
When he had gone upstairs, Yvonne said, “This is worse than I’ve ever seen him. I mean depressed. I wonder what’s wrong. It seems, Pat, he hasn’t any middle any more. Only very happy or very sad. You like him don’t you Pat?”
“Yes. Yes I do. I wish I could help.”
Nick had been lying on his bed for over an hour. He had never felt so drained, so tired, so old. His mind wasn’t able to function and there didn’t seem anything in the world that he wanted to do. And he could not sleep. And knew as he lay there that he was on the verge of tears but he did not know why. Mary knocked on his door and asked if she could come in and he said yes.
“Yvonne said you weren’t feeling good, son,” she came over to his bed and kissed him and sat on the edge of it and took his hand. “Too much to drink?” she smiled sweetly.
“I don’t know, Mother. I really don’t.”
“Tell me, Nick. You know you can confide in me.”
“I really don’t know. I’m just tired, I guess. I can’t seem to get on the right track. I want peace so bad and I have everything but peace. It’s a war with myself, maybe. I don’t know. I’m so tired of fighting. I feel so old. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Nick,” Mary said soothingly, compassionately, feeling for the first time since he had come home that he was her little boy again. “You had an argument with Nora.”
“No, not an argument.”
“But it does have something to do with Nora,” Mary said.
“Yes, something. But it has to do with love, too. We all want love so badly. We are such fools, I think, to possibly believe that we could find love in anyone else when we don’t know what it is in ourselves. You don’t understand things except through yourself. How can we find love and treat love properly if we don’t know the value of it? I gave a native in Burma a dollar bill one time. As a souvenir. He didn’t know what it was. It was a small fortune to him, actually. But he didn’t know it. So he used it to light a cheroot. I think it is much the same thing with love. We destroy it because we don’t know it. And I suppose we are frightened because we don’t have the strength of character to do the things one must to realize what it is. I must be awfully confusing, Mother.” He was looking at the ceiling, not at her, as if talking to himself.
“I think it’s a truth, Nick. And I think it is a lack of strength of character that does defeat us.”
“Thanks, beautiful.” He smiled a slightly hurt smile over at her. “You know,” he tried to make a joke, “it’s amazing that anyone as beautiful as you could produce something that looked like me.”
Mary smiled. “You rest, dear. We’ll talk later.”
“Thanks for coming in,” he said. And he was pleased and aware of the fact that she was considerate enough not to have stayed too long.
Nick stayed up in his room all afternoon. Around six he took a shower. Then Yvonne came and called him for dinner. Mary had already briefed Old Pete—that Nick was depressed. Probably a war reaction, she had convinced him.
Nick came downstairs and joined the family on the porch.
“That was a wonderful party, Dad,” he said. “Wonderful.”
“I told Nick about Pierro and Marci,” Yvonne s
aid.
Old Pete grinned satisfyingly.
“I never thought Pierro would move that fast,” Nick said, smiling that hurt smile still. Then, after a momentary pause: “I’m going out to eat.”
“You should eat with the family, Nick,” Old Pete said. “We’ve hardly had a meal together.” Old Pete was thinking of how he could get Pat and Nick together.
“I don’t feel well,” he said dejectedly.
“You should eat something,” Mary said.
“When do you want me to start down at the office, Dad?” Nick asked almost defeatedly. Old Pete sensed the defeat at once.
“Any time,” Old Pete said casually. “Day after tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Nick said. “Dad, can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
“Sure,” Old Pete said, hiding his satisfaction regarding Nick’s sudden revelation of his decision to go to work. They went into the living room.
“I didn’t know who that woman was until early this morning,” Nick said. “But don’t you worry about it. It’s all over. I was just suckered, I guess.”
Old Pete put his hand on Nick’s shoulder affectionately.
“Everything is going to be fine now, son. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Old Pete had never seen Nick this dejected and suddenly he wanted terribly to be able to do something to help him. He hoped Nick wasn’t going out to get drunk. “Where you going, son?” he asked.
“I just thought I’d go down to the shack and sit around with Gus for a while. He’ll feed me.”
“I think that would do you good. You don’t know how proud you make me coming into the firm. I need you, Nick.”
“I know you’ve always meant the best for me, Dad,” Nick said.
Then his father reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “We’ll do big things together, son. I know we will. You need my experience. And God knows,” Old Pete smiled, “I need your youth.”
“It seems you had plently last night. Running around that party in your shorts,” Nick grinned.
“I’ll bet that’s more than you had on,” Old Pete punched him kiddingly in the side, grinning. “Well, once in a lifetime don’t hurt. That’s great news about Pierro, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I hope he’s happy.”
“Have a good time, son. And, oh, here’s that fifty for taking Pat out the other night. And another fifty in case you feel up to entertaining her some more.”
“Thanks,” Nick said, taking the money. “I’ll show her around a bit, Dad. But not tonight.”
“I understand, kid,” Old Pete said proudly. “You know, I think you’re beginning to grow up. I know you got a lot up there,” he pointed to Nick’s head. “Take it easy, son.”
Nick turned and walked out of the house. It was getting dark and looked like it would rain soon, he thought. He was glad it was going to rain.
Gus was working in his garden on his hands and knees when Nick arrived. He stood and brushed his long bony hands together and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his forearm and came over and kissed Nick on the side of the cheek.
“Come inside,” he said in Greek. “We have something.”
“No drink,” Nick said. “I don’t feel like having a drink.”
“Turkish coffee,” Gus said.
“Fine.”
“You are hurt bad,” Old Gus said. “It is all over you.”
“Yes.”
“By pain you learn of yourself,” Old Gus said without sympathy, putting the Turkish coffee into the little brass pot on the one-burner stove. “To learn of ourselves is to grow.”
“You make it sound so easy. I don’t know what it is about this shack but for me it is the only peaceful place in the city. You go to no one. You have nothing. Yet everyone comes here. Even the priest comes here and visits you even though you do not go to church. Old Pete will not make a business deal without coming here for advice. Yet you know nothing of business. The people of Marco loved you and took to you as if you were one of their own. They respected me as a fisherman and because I did not pry into their business, but you they accepted fully. Since I was a boy, since my grandfather died, I always came here. But never unless I was low or remorseful. I have never brought you anything but my troubles. What are you?”
“Nick, do not worry so much that you always owe so much. How can you have any idea what I get from you?”
“Maybe, then, it is the truth that you have the evil eye,” Nick said trying to make a joke but unable to make it come off very well. “Maybe you sap my strength when I am here.”
Gus smiled anyhow.
“I am going to work for my father,” Nick said.
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“I thought,” Old Gus said. “Is that what you truly want?” he asked still in Greek.
“I don’t know what I want,” Nick said.
“You have much company in this world,” Gus said. “You were happy in a way in the islands,—when you fished and rode upon the sea. Your happiness was obvious.”
“Yes, I was happy,” Nick said. “For a few days I was happy.”
“You lost your woman,” Old Gus said. He was stirring his coffee.
“I found out that she was a prostitute. And that she was sleeping with my father. I asked her to marry me, anyhow. She won’t marry me.”
“Then she is smart in a way. Prostitute or no prostitute.”
“I don’t understand?” Nick questioned.
“Unless you change much, it would be impossible for her to marry you. Unless your power to forgive and forget is stronger in you than most men, it would be impossible.”
Nick did not answer. Old Gus brought him a demitasse. He knew Nick liked his heavy.
“I am lucky in many ways,” Nick said after a while. “I’m alive, which is a miracle in itself. I have seen much beauty.”
“Yes,” Old Gus said, “even beauty in men at war.”
“In the land, in nature, I saw beauty,” Nick said. “In men I did not see much beauty. I saw much pride. And nobility of a kind—but the beauty was of the land.”
“You are of the land,” Old Gus said. “Are you not?”
“Yes.”
“You have seen beauty in the spawning of fish. And in the way a leopard walks. And monkeys protect their young. And yet you see no beauty in man, huh? Then it must be because you do not look for it. It seems whenever you look for it somewhere else you find it easily enough.”
“I see beauty in that woman,” Nick said. “Even if she is a whore.”
“You are sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you not ask her to marry you before?”
“I don’t know.”
“I am sure that you are not in love, then.”
“Why?” Nick asked.
“A lover must be able to accept all that is hard and bitter for the sake of one he loves. Love believes that nothing is impossible. It feels no burden. It makes one stronger than his own strength. The way you are tonight is the opposite. You must admit it. You are a man. I will not lie to you, Nick. Nor try to make it easy for you.”
“No, but I hate your guts sometimes for the sense you make.”
“You come here looking for a ‘father.’ “
“I don’t understand,” Nick said. “You said ‘father’ so funny.”
“Nor do I completely,” Gus said. “I think it is God the Father whom we all look for.”
“Pierro is going to be married,” Nick said.
“You do not like to talk about fathers,” Old Gus said.
“No,” Nick said emphatically.
“That is news. Will his wife leave the stage?”
“I don’t know.”
“And will he go on with his work as he planned?”
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “What do you think?”
“Marriage will present many complications to one like Pierro,” Old Gus contemplated. “Is the young one from Atlanta still at
your home?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Wondering,” Old Gus said. “More Turkish coffee?”
Nick nodded.
“When will you go to work?” Gus asked.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“So soon? Your father must be very pleased.”
“Yes,” Nick said. “Play, your zither, will you, Gus? Play a lament.”
“Of course, Nickie.”
Gus began to play and Nick sat there on the edge of the bunk smoking and drinking the Turkish coffee and listening. After a while there was a knock on the door.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” Gus said to whoever it was at the door. It was Marci and Pierro.
“I had a hard time convincing your cousin to come,” Marci said.
“Nick is here,” Old Gus said.
“He is?” Pierro said disappointedly.
“Come in. I have not much to offer you. But some wine. And a little of the ouzu.”
Nick got up from the edge of the bunk and walked across the wooden floor of the shack. He took Marci’s hand. “Is it true,” Nick asked, “what I heard?”
“Yes,” she said.
Nick smiled sweetly. It was the first time that Marci had ever seen him smile like that, and years since Pierro had seen him smile like that. But it was a familiar smile, Pierro remembered. It was really the way Nick had smiled on occasion a long time ago.
Nick took Marci’s head in his hands tenderly, respectfully, and gently kissed her on the forehead. “I hope you will have all the things you have dreamed of.”
Then he shook hands with Pierro: “And you, too, Pierro. Have a wonderful family that is not as narrow as ours. And build great things.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been fair with you, Nick,” Marci said.
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