a little wistful.
“I was there for about ten days on leave,” I told her.
“I never made it up there,” Jack said. “When I was with the Sixth Fleet, we stayed pretty much in the Mediterranean.”
“Did you get to see any of the groups while you were in London?” Margaret persisted. She really wanted to know; she wasn’t just asking to have something to say.
“No,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her that groups weren’t particularly my thing. She might think I was trying to put her down.
“My wife’s a group-nut,” Jack said tolerantly. “That one cabinet there is stacked full of albums. Must be twenty of the damn things in there.”
“I dig them,” she said without apologizing. “Oh, Jack, did you get the kids to bed OK?”
“All fed, bathed, and tucked in,” he told her. “You know you can trust me to take care of things.”
“Patsy’s been getting a little stubborn about going to bed,” she said. “She’s at that age, I guess.”
“I didn’t have no problems,” Jack said.
“Are you guys hungry?” she asked suddenly. Woman’s eternal answer to any social situation—feed ’em. It’s in the blood, I guess.
“I could eat,” Jack said. “How about you, Dan?”
“Well—”
“Sure you can,” he insisted. “Why don’t you whip up a pizza, Mama Cat? One of those big ones.”
“It’ll take a while,” she said, opening herself a beer. She turned on the overhead light in the kitchen. She looked tired.
“That’s OK,” he said. “Well, Dan, what are you going to do with yourself now that you’re out?” He said it as if he expected me to say something important, something that would impress hell out of Margaret.
“I’ll be starting in at the U in October,” I told him. “I got all the papers processed and got accepted and all by mail. I’d have rather gone someplace else, but they were going to bring me back here for separation anyway, so what the hell?”
“Boy, you sure run rampant on this college stuff, don’t you?” He still tried to use words he didn’t know.
“Keeps me off the streets at night.” I shrugged.
“Dan,” Margaret said. “Do you like sausage or cheese?” She was rummaging around among the pots and pans.
“Either one, Margaret,” I said. “Whichever you folks like.”
“Make the sausage, sweetie,” Jack said. He turned to me. “We get this frozen sausage pizza down at the market. It’s the best yet, and only eighty-nine cents.”
“Sounds fine,” I said.
“You ever get pizza in Germany?” Margaret asked.
“No, not in Germany,” I said. “I had a few in Italy though. I went down there on leave once.”
“Did you get to Naples?” Jack asked. “We hauled in there once when I was with the Sixth Fleet.”
“Just for a day,” I said. “I was running a little low on cash, and I didn’t have time to really see much of it.”
“We really pitched a liberty in Naples,” he said. “I got absolutely crazed with alcohol.” We drifted off into reminiscing about how we’d won various wars and assorted small skirmishes. We finished the pint and had a few more beers with the leathery pizza. Margaret relaxed a little more, and I began to feel comfortable with them.
“Look, Dan,” Jack said, “you’ve got a month and a half or so before you start back to school, right? Why don’t you bunk in here till you get squared away? We can move the two curtain-climbers into one room. This trailer has three bedrooms, and you’d be real comfortable.”
“Hell, Jack,” I said, “I couldn’t do that. I’d be underfoot and all.”
“No trouble at all,” he said. “Right, Marg?”
“It wouldn’t really be any trouble,” she said a little uncertainly. She was considerably less than enthusiastic.
“No,” I said. “It just wouldn’t work out. I’d be keeping odd hours and—”
“I get it.” Jack laughed knowingly. “You’ve got some tomato lined up, huh? You want privacy.” I don’t know if I’d ever heard anyone say “tomato” for real before. It sounded odd. “Well, that’s no sweat. We can—”
“Jack, how about that little trailer down the street at number twenty-nine?” Margaret suggested. “Doesn’t Clem want to rent that one out?”
He snapped his fingers. “Just the thing,” he said. “It’s a little forty-foot eight-wide—kind of a junker really—but it’s a place to flop. He wants fifty a month for it, but seeing as you’re my brother, I’ll be able to beat him down some. It’ll be just the thing for you.” He seemed really excited about it.
“Well—” I said doubtfully. I wasn’t really sure I wanted to be that close to my brother.
“It’ll give you a base of operations and you’ll be right here close. We’ll be able to get together for some elbow-bendin’ now and then.”
“OK,” I said, laughing. “Who do I talk to?” It was easier than arguing with him. I hadn’t really made any plans anyway. It was almost as if we were kids again, Jack making the arrangements and me going along with him because I really didn’t care one way or the other. It felt kind of good.
“You just leave everything to me,” Jack said importantly. He’d always liked to take over—to manage things for people—and he’d always make a big deal out of everything. He hadn’t really changed at all. “I’ll check it over from stem to stem and make old Clem give you some decent furniture from the lot—He owns the place where I work as well as this court. We’ve got a whole warehouse full of furniture. We’ll put in a good bed and a halfway decent couch—we might even be able to scrounge up a TV set from someplace.”
“Look, Jack,” I said, “it’s only going to be a month or so. Don’t go to any special trouble.” I didn’t want to owe him too much. Owing people is a bum trip.
“Trouble? Hell, it’s no special trouble. After all, you’re my brother, ain’t you. No brother of mine is going to live in some broken-down junker. Besides, if you’ve got some tomato lined up, you’ll want to make a favorable impression. That counts for a lot, doesn’t it, Marg?”
“You really will want some new stuff in there,” she agreed. “Nelsons lived in there before, and Eileen wasn’t the neatest person in the world.” Now that I wasn’t going to move in with them Margaret seemed to think better of me. I could see her point though.
“Neat?” Jack snorted, lighting a cigarette. “She was a slob. Not only was she a boozer, she was the court
