hair. It's not a permanent solution, but I can live with it for a while." After I'd said it, I was a little sorry. But it was out there, and I wasn't going to take it back.
"I don't think so." He stared down at the table.
"Where will you go, then?"
He didn't answer. His face looked all clammy.
"You OK ?"
"Coffee is hard on my stomach."
"Then you shouldn't drink it."
"I like to drink it."
"I'm giving you an out here," I said. "Be careful, because I don't have to do it. But I know that you meant something to Junior, and that carries weight."
"All right," he said, so quietly, I could barely hear.
I dropped Clay back at Louise's and told him he could move in the next day. Then I went to the library and did some reading. After that I headed over to The Deadwood and drank a couple more glasses of Early Times and started chatting up Nicole, the bartender. She's got enormous patience when it comes to me. One time she even drove me home, and it's not remotely on her way. I was so drunk, apparently, I started reciting Shakespeare, and I don't know any. She put me to bed and everything.
"Cold enough for you?" I said.
"Come on, Lenny," she said. "I don't get paid enough to listen to 'cold enough for you.'"
"You ever know anyone with AIDS ?"
"Yeah." She lit up a cigarette and offered me one, which I took. She's got pretty hair. Graduated a few years ago with a degree in art, still trying to figure out what to do with it. "Why?"
"I'm taking in a roommate. Friend of my son's."
"I'm so sorry. I heard about him."
"It's OK . Life wasn't treating him so good. Now we got this other guy on our hands, see. You think it might be dangerous?"
"Not if you practice safe sex."
"That's not even funny. I mean silverware and stuff. Dishes. Just breathing the same air. Stuff hangs. I saw this program once where they showed what a sneeze does. Droplets in the air. You ever heard of HAART ?"
" Heart like valentines? Like the kind that are always getting broken?"
"It stands for highly active antiretroviral therapy ."
"I know some of those words."
"Otherwise known as the cocktail approach."
"You mean pills."
I nodded and pointed to my glass, which was empty. I could feel a pretty good glow getting started, too, and I had an idea. The Early Times bottle behind the bar was about half full. I decided I would spend the afternoon killing it off and that would be itâafter that I was through with drinking. I'd always known that someday I'd quit, and today seemed as good as any other. "I know a little something about the cocktail approach myself," I said.
Nicole smiled prettily. She had on big hoop earrings and a black turtleneck that showed off those small, high breasts of hers. "What do you know about it?"
"I know that it only works for so long."
I spent the whole afternoon at The Deadwood. Around dinner time, I drunk-drove over to the house, passing by the time-and-temperature sign outside the First National Bank, which announced â15 in numbers lit yellow against the dark sky. As I parked, I was conscious of all the normal lives around me in those 1920s-era houses, and I leaned on my horn just to wake them up a little. Ours was on Bank Street, a nice screened porch out front that I'd done quite a bit of work on over the yearsâjacked it up where it sagged, painted it, put in new steps. Louise's car was in the driveâwe drive the same model, though hers is a few years newerâso I knew she was home. I also knew she wouldn't want to see me like this, but that never stopped me before.
She was in the kitchen, but she came out to the living room when she heard me come in. She'd changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a fleece jacket and she had a knife in her hand. "Was that you honking?" she asked.
"Hell no. Louis Armstrong is out there. He's thinking to himself, 'What a wonderful world.'"
"You are sauced. Go on home. And try not to kill anyone on the way."
"I'm celebrating."
"What?" She gave me a puzzled look.
"I don't think so." He stared down at the table.
"Where will you go, then?"
He didn't answer. His face looked all clammy.
"You OK ?"
"Coffee is hard on my stomach."
"Then you shouldn't drink it."
"I like to drink it."
"I'm giving you an out here," I said. "Be careful, because I don't have to do it. But I know that you meant something to Junior, and that carries weight."
"All right," he said, so quietly, I could barely hear.
I dropped Clay back at Louise's and told him he could move in the next day. Then I went to the library and did some reading. After that I headed over to The Deadwood and drank a couple more glasses of Early Times and started chatting up Nicole, the bartender. She's got enormous patience when it comes to me. One time she even drove me home, and it's not remotely on her way. I was so drunk, apparently, I started reciting Shakespeare, and I don't know any. She put me to bed and everything.
"Cold enough for you?" I said.
"Come on, Lenny," she said. "I don't get paid enough to listen to 'cold enough for you.'"
"You ever know anyone with AIDS ?"
"Yeah." She lit up a cigarette and offered me one, which I took. She's got pretty hair. Graduated a few years ago with a degree in art, still trying to figure out what to do with it. "Why?"
"I'm taking in a roommate. Friend of my son's."
"I'm so sorry. I heard about him."
"It's OK . Life wasn't treating him so good. Now we got this other guy on our hands, see. You think it might be dangerous?"
"Not if you practice safe sex."
"That's not even funny. I mean silverware and stuff. Dishes. Just breathing the same air. Stuff hangs. I saw this program once where they showed what a sneeze does. Droplets in the air. You ever heard of HAART ?"
" Heart like valentines? Like the kind that are always getting broken?"
"It stands for highly active antiretroviral therapy ."
"I know some of those words."
"Otherwise known as the cocktail approach."
"You mean pills."
I nodded and pointed to my glass, which was empty. I could feel a pretty good glow getting started, too, and I had an idea. The Early Times bottle behind the bar was about half full. I decided I would spend the afternoon killing it off and that would be itâafter that I was through with drinking. I'd always known that someday I'd quit, and today seemed as good as any other. "I know a little something about the cocktail approach myself," I said.
Nicole smiled prettily. She had on big hoop earrings and a black turtleneck that showed off those small, high breasts of hers. "What do you know about it?"
"I know that it only works for so long."
I spent the whole afternoon at The Deadwood. Around dinner time, I drunk-drove over to the house, passing by the time-and-temperature sign outside the First National Bank, which announced â15 in numbers lit yellow against the dark sky. As I parked, I was conscious of all the normal lives around me in those 1920s-era houses, and I leaned on my horn just to wake them up a little. Ours was on Bank Street, a nice screened porch out front that I'd done quite a bit of work on over the yearsâjacked it up where it sagged, painted it, put in new steps. Louise's car was in the driveâwe drive the same model, though hers is a few years newerâso I knew she was home. I also knew she wouldn't want to see me like this, but that never stopped me before.
She was in the kitchen, but she came out to the living room when she heard me come in. She'd changed out of her work clothes into jeans and a fleece jacket and she had a knife in her hand. "Was that you honking?" she asked.
"Hell no. Louis Armstrong is out there. He's thinking to himself, 'What a wonderful world.'"
"You are sauced. Go on home. And try not to kill anyone on the way."
"I'm celebrating."
"What?" She gave me a puzzled look.
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