Chapter 17

Captain Williams sat on the window ledge in his office, staring down at the street. How different people were in the daytime, he thought. He glanced across the street at the restaurant bathed in sunlight and watched a white-haired waitress in a green uniform as she scurried past the window, juggling her plate lunches through the busy dining room jammed with noontime shoppers.

How different, he thought, and he was thinking of the girl he'd just left lying on the bed, bathed in sunlight, looking suddenly very young and smiling, as though a great burden had suddenly been lifted from her. He wondered what she must have been thinking as she lay there waiting for sleep.

"Don't love people who can't love you...."

That's what Jan had said and she'd been talking about Madge. What could come of that kind of futility, the captain wondered.

He remembered his talk with the people at the Post Bar. What must Madge have thought when the woman told her Bernie had been there all evening? And with Jack? What must she have been thinking when she got into that red convertible?

What might she have thought if she had suddenly seen Bernie at that motel?

It was possible ... she could have seen Bernie. The unit she was in was not too far from Cartell's place. Bernie would have had to drive by it to reach the big man's cabin. Suppose she'd been at the window and had seen him ... what might she have done?

What might she have thought he was doing there? Half-drunk, hurt, furious, not only from the pain of her debauch with Tony, her self-inflicted punishment, but with the pain of what he was doing to her, still hearing the ring of the woman's words in her ears-" ... if you're keeping tabs on him for Jan, don't worry. He's with another boy."

Perhaps she had only meant to confront him. Perhaps she had only meant to stand in that doorway and laugh. But when she saw them together-Bernie and Cy-SITTING ON THE BED, LAUGHING, CY'S WALLET IN HIS HANDS....

The captain winced at the idea that was going through his mind ... sitting on the bed ugly, obese, laughing, a ten-dollar bill clutched in his hand,....

"No!" the captain said aloud.

Yet it was possible. She would have seen the rifle. The instinct to hurt, to destroy, taking over, ruling out thought. Had she grabbed up the rifle and, while he stared at her in disbelief, fired it?

It was Bernie she was trying to hurt!

A wild shot, a senseless move, something that happened in a nightmare. No more real than the rest of the night, or the other nights when she had done the same thing-worse things to him in her mind-and Bernie knew it, too.

It was Madge that Bernie was protecting!

He had felt the guilt of what he was doing to her when he saw the hatred in her eyes. Was it possible? Could he suddenly have realized it-or could he have known all along how she felt? Perhaps he had the same feelings-but wasn't able to surrender to them.

Perhaps he realized how he'd wronged her, that all he could do now was try and protect her. He had wiped the gun clean and called the police and, in that way, told her that he did love her. It was the only way he could say it and it was eloquent, more eloquent than he'd ever been in his life.

Captain Williams sighed wearily. Too many thoughts ... Too many thoughts. To hate that much ... to hate at all ... to take her own life and let Bernie keep on paying ... He remembered her face as she lay on the bed. He remembered the smile.

No, he thought, she would have done any thing for him-even if he were never to know it. That's what love does, mister. Jan had said it. It cries out to destroy, but it never does. The big man loved Rose and struck out at everything except her-and Madge loved Bernie. She could have fired the rifle in a moment of madness.

But after the madness had passed she would have been sorry. She would never go away and allow Bernie to carry that burden for her. If she had, there would have been a different smile on her face, a wicked smile and it would show after death and would repel.

No, the captain thought. He would have seen it, because he'd been looking for it especially, when he broke down her door. But it wasn't there ... not a trace of it.

Captain Williams moved away from the window. Perhaps Bernie's truth was the real truth after all and there was nothing more to learn. Madge must have thought what Jan had thought-that Bernie had committed an act of supreme sacrifice, but not for her. She knew it. Jan knew it. Even Bernie knew it, and Captain Williams wondered if he didn't know it, too. Perhaps he'd known it all along.

Yet ... the captain found himself considering an idea he'd had earlier, one that had crossed his mind while he stood at Madge's door, that had been interrupted by Jan's appearance, then by the tragedy of Madge's death. What was it that had bothered him? Something about Jack ... something Jack had said....

"What happened between you and Bernie in his apartment?"

"Nothing!"

Captain Williams suddenly realized it was not what Jack had said that bothered him, but the way he said it....

Bernie looked up when he heard the key turning in the lock. He smiled when Mike came in. The captain had kept his promise and arranged for Mike to visit him. He opened his mouth to speak, waited till the white-uniformed guard was gone and listened for the key to turn again in the lock. Then he sat up and laughed at Mike, who stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"Well, come on in," Bernie said. "I'm not going to bite you."

"How are you?" Mike said.

"Great!" Bernie pushed the covers aside and swung his legs out onto the floor. "Now don't laugh," he said. "This is what everybody wears in a hospital." He was referring to the long hospital gown that fell almost to his ankles. He hoisted the overlong sleeves up to his elbows. "It's like being in drag."

"The captain said you were pretty sick," Mike said and moved hesitantly toward Bernie. Bernie could see he was embarrassed.

"Well, I was," Bernie said. "You should've seen me. I about killed a dozen nurses-and they're big guys too!"

Mike laughed.

"They had to strap me down, too."

"They did?" Mike's eyes widened.

"Yes, they did," Bernie said, imitating Mike's wonder. He showed Mike the strap that hung from the underside of the bed. "But I got an itch and they had to untie me." He grabbed Mike, pulling him closer. "Damn you!" he said, "don't be so scared of me."

"I'm not," Mike said, reddening.

"The hell you're not." Bernie said. "You look like you're gonna faint."

"I am not!" Mike said, frowning. "I was just worried about you."

"You were?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'll tell you when to start worrying about me, okay? Now sit down here and tell me how you are."

Mike obeyed and sat on the bed next to Bernie.

"We're fine."

"And how is Sarah?"

"She's okay now." Mike grinned, losing some of his awkwardness. "Hey, Bernie, Sarah and me are staying at your apartment-till you get back. Is that okay?"

"I guess so." Bernie laughed softly. "What else do you want to tell me?"

"Well, I brought your car keys. I thought maybe you might want them."

"You did, eh?" Bernie took the ring of keys. He looked at them for a moment. How can you go anywhere, he thought, when you don't even know who you are? His fingers worked over the keys, pushing them along the chain like the beads of a rosary.

"Of course, if you want, I can take care of your car for you," Mike said. "Till you get back, I mean...."

"Well now," Bernie said finally, "I certainly appreciate that." He looked at Mike, wincing, as though it were a stranger sitting next to him. "And the baby," he said. "How is the baby?"

"Well, it ain't been born yet."

"I know that," Bernie said. He picked up one of Mike's hands and studied it, tracing the lines in his palm with a fingertip. "I see that you're going to be a father."

"Hey, if it's a boy," Mike said, "We're gonna name him Bernie after you."

"Don't you dare," Bernie said harshly. He pushed Mike's hand away. "Call him Frank. That's your papa's name."

"I can call him anything I want," Mike said hotly, showing his disappointment at Bernie's reaction to his gesture.

"Anyway, you're going to be a father," Bernie said, ignoring him, "and that means you'll have certain responsibilities."

"I know that."

"I don't know what you know, so I have to tell you everything," Bernie said. "As soon as you get to Chicago, you have to start looking for a job. Is that clear?"

"We can't go to Chicago."

"Why not? I gave you the money for the tickets."

"Yeah, but they won't let us go."

"Oh!" Bernie shrugged. "Well, that's no big problem. I'll fix that up. And you might as well take my car too. Drive it to Chicago."

"No kidding?"

"You can save the train money for when you get there." Bernie looked uneasily toward the door. "And remember, soon as you get there, you start looking for a job."

"Hey, but what'll you-"

"Never mind," Bernie said, cutting him off. "They're gonna throw you outta here in a few minutes, so just listen to me."

"Yeah, but-"

"Listen," Bernie said sharply. "No more running around the streets, okay?"

"Well, natur-"

"And no more sleeping till noon."

"Oh-"

"Say it!"

"Okay."

"That's the biggest thing in the world your little girl is making for you, Mike. Do you realize that?" Bernie grabbed Mike's hair, tugging it roughly. "Do you?"

"Ooow!"

"Tell me."

"Yes," Mike hollered. "Now let go."

"And she'll probably make you a dozen more like your mama did. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I dunno."

"Well, I do," Bernie said, releasing him. "And here's something else I know. If they all resemble you, they're going to have a hell of a job growing up."

"How come?"

"How come?" Bernie smiled sadly. "You bug! What can you give them, huh? What can you give them that your papa didn't give you? Huh? All you have is instinct. Do you know what that is?"

Mike shook his head.

"There's so much I wanted to tell you," Bernie said. "I hold my hand out so-" He extended a hand, touching Mike's face, and Mike's face moved against it. Bernie grinned. "I'm gonna tell you a story. You wanna hear it?"

"I guess so."

"Well, you're going to hear it, whether you like it or not?" Bernie said. "It's about a little dog I used to have."

"I didn't know you had a dog."

"Shhh! I'm telling a story. It was just a mutt I found in an alley once, but I took him in. And I fixed a bed for him in a corner to sleep. In the mornings I'd pour his breakfast in a bowl. I didn't teach him anything. I just let him play and cleaned up after him. Then one day he got too big to play and decided he needed other dogs. He all but scratched my door down till I finally put him in the car and took him back to the alley where I found him. He didn't even look back."

"When was that?" Mike said. "Oh, not so long ago," Bernie said. Then he smiled, recovering from his thoughts. "Now you better get going. Okay?"

"Okay, but...." Mike stammered, looking at the key chain in Bernie's hand.

Bernie laughed. "Oh, yes." He refastened the chain he'd been toying with while he'd been talking. "Here you are. Now you better beat it."

"You sure they'll let us go?"

"I told you I'd fix it, didn't I? Don't I always fix everything?"

"I guess so," Mike said. He got up, pausing at the door. "Well," he said, then shrugged awkwardly.

"Well, what?" Bernie said impatiently. "Just go!"

"I have to say good-bye, don't I?" Mike said.

"Okay, say it."

"Well, good-by, I guess."

"Good-by."

Bernie stared at the door for a long time after Mike had left. There was so much I wanted to tell you, he thought. It was all true what the big man said. None of it was real, but it was all the truth!

"You damn little fool," he said aloud. He went to the door, but it was locked. "You lay down with fire and never once got burnt!" He turned away from the door, searching around the room for another way out. "I gave you glory and you'll never know it!"

His fingers trembled as he watched them. They moved almost on their own and he stared at them, horrified.

"It's all right, baby," he whispered. "Don't cry, baby!" He was frightened. "It's all right! It's all right!" And he knew it was all right. It's coming! It's coming! Thank God! It's coming now and it's all right!

Suddenly it was, and he closed his eyes. Suddenly he wondered why he'd been afraid. It was beautiful. Like a cigarette ad in a magazine. He smiled and wondered why he'd been afraid.

He opened his eyes and Madge was there. What are you doing here? He frowned because he was surprised. Then he smiled because she was there. But the smile died on his face. He saw right through her, and the smile died, and suddenly there was terror.

Oh my God! He drew his arms across his face, shutting out the light. It was too late. Deeper and deeper he felt himself drawn into the black water that crept over his face, pouring out of his wrists, burning him. He let it carry him. He let his body go limp while he was swept away and, under his breath, he said, It is, it is!