Читаем Fall and Rise полностью

“Where you calling from? It sounds like noises on the street.”

“A pay phone. I went to a party and was walking home.”

“It’s safe? You don’t want to take a subway at night, but why not a bus or cab?”

“I’m walking to get air.”

“You drank too much at the party?”

“Mom, will you stop it? I drank a little. Maybe even more than a little, but I’m all right.”

“Thieves see a drunk on the street, they see a target. You have to be careful everyplace today. No matter how big you are, they come at you two and three at a time and can knock and keep any man down. I worry about you alone at night. You’re too quick to leap in if you see any trouble. Maybe yesterday that was okay or you’d end up with only a bop on the nose, but today you can get killed. If they start chasing you and they’re young, they’ll win.”

“Believe me, with all the exercising I do I’m even stronger than I was, but I no longer jump in. I’m as wary as the next guy.”

“Too much exercise at your age and you could be setting yourself up for a heart condition. You ought to do only light things like yoga.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll check into it.”

“You’re not just saying?”

“No. I’ll get a check-up, have a stress test — whatever.”

“Good. How long you think we’ve been on the phone?”

“Three minutes. More?”

“I’m surprised the operator hasn’t cut in. Maybe I should call you back before she does.”

“Leave it. So we get a break from the phone company for once. But if I know them they’ll ring me as soon as I hang up, and if you know me you know I’ll pay. But where were we? That you must be very uncomfortable without heat for two days. See how I got a memory?”

“I never doubted. And this time I don’t care how good his excuse is, I’m going to a good hotel and charge them for meals and tips too if this lasts another day.”

“Don’t go to a hotel. My apartment’s small. But if it ever came to your being warm or not and you wanted to avoid the hotel cost, you could always stay at my place alone for as long as you want and I’d find someplace else to stay or you could stay there with me.”

“On the floor?”

“I’d sleep on the floor or in a chair. It’s not bad. I have a sleeping bag, or I’d buy a cot, and I’d come get you.”

“Your apartment must be very small. Anyway, thanks but if I didn’t go to a hotel I’d go to Bernard’s. He also asked me and it’s nearer and roomier. Because I can’t take the cold, Daniel. Nobody here can. I wore three sweaters and would have worn a fourth if I had one. Get me a good wool cardigan for Christmas if you’re thinking of buying me anything. I never asked you for a gift before, but that’s what I need and I don’t know when I’ll have the time to look for a good one. What do you need?”

“For Christmas? Nothing.”

“For anytime what do you need? Don’t say socks.”

“It’s true, socks I can always use. Socks and size thirty-two jockey briefs, next style up from what they call bikini, but not white.”

“They show the stain, I know.”

“I told you? Or you’re getting very bold.”

“You did tell me after I gave you several pairs of white. Black or red, right?”

“Any dark solid color. Size thirty-two or thirty-four. I can get into both. For some reason thirty-two stretches to a thirty-four and thirty-four doesn’t to a thirty-six. Maybe I’m a thirty-four and don’t want to admit it.”

“Get measured.”

“Let’s just say thirty-four.”

“I already have it. Regular dark solid-colored jockey briefs but not the old-man kind, preferably thirty-three if they carry odd sizes, and no artificial materials in them except in the elastic band. Same with the socks? Not the knee-high kind and I know no whites, but what about argyles? They used to be your favorite.”

“In college. But anything. Cotton or wool or a wool blend, they’re all fine. White too, don’t bother yourself about what kind, but not all-nylon if you can avoid it of any design.”

“Like dad used to wear.”

“I find them itchy and ugly.”

“You still have his after all these years?”

“The last pair’s just wearing out.”

“Dad also didn’t spend much on clothes, but look how those socks lasted and some of them didn’t come to you new. Six years.”

“I thought eight.”

“Six. I waited two years before I gave away any of his clothes. You thought that peculiar.”

“Not peculiar.”

“Peculiar, peculiar. You wanted me to throw them on the street or give them to Goodwill, but I couldn’t till after two years. And you finally took his socks and also his bathrobes, and those robes were Viyella, expensive but durable and warm. I bet you still have them.”

“You can’t wear them out.”

“I bought them for him. But let’s not talk about it anymore if you don’t mind. You’re not too cold where you’re calling from?”

“I’ve a coat. One thing before I forget. What color cardigan?”

“Something bright. Blue heather or heather blue. Or a pretty shade in the red family. Red makes me feel warm when it’s cold. And size thirty-eight. Cardigans have to be loose.”

“Good. But you feel fine otherwise and there’ll be heat by tomorrow?”