“Quite a housing shortage,” Lou said, with a fatalistic shrug.
“So we took the liberty of rearranging the office next door,” she said.
“With both you and Frankie gone,” Lou said, “we haven’t been using that office at all. I’ve been working out of your office, of course…” He nodded to my inner office, his expression apologetic.
“That’s as it should be,” I said.
“So we had the partitions taken out next door,” he went on, “and put your desk in there, as well as some of the personal items you’d put in storage. Some furniture from your old suite at the Morrison. You remember that old Murphy bed of yours that’s been stored in the basement, for years?”
I sat down on the couch, put a hand on the sea bag. “Don’t tell me.”
“We had it hauled back upstairs. It’s in there. You can have that whole office to yourself, and live in it, too, temporarily, till you find something else.”
“Full circle,” I said.
“What?” Gladys said.
“Nothing,” I said.
Lou said to her, “He lived in his office when he started out. That office.”
“Oh,” Gladys said, not getting it. Irony wasn’t her strong suit.
I stood. “I appreciate you going to that trouble.”
“If you like,” Lou said, gesturing with two open hands, “I’ll use that office, and you can use the one in here, and just sleep in there. I just figured, with clients used to dealing with me, it wouldn’t hurt to have a transition period, where…”
“Don’t say another word. You stay put, Lou. It’s going to take me a while to get into the swing of things again. For the next few weeks, at least, consider yourself the boss.”
“Am I wrong in assuming you’ll be wanting to get right back to work?”
“No. Anyway, I don’t think you are.”
“Mr. Heller,” Gladys said, her brow knit. I didn’t bother correcting her; “Nate” was just not in her vocabulary. “You do look a little peaked, if you’ll excuse me saying.”
“Gladys,” Lou said, harshly.
“It’s okay, Lou,” I said. “She’s right. I look like hell. But I just spent sixteen hours or so sitting on a train, with no place to sleep, and…” The train had been filthy, crowded; I was lucky to find room to stow my sea bag and plant my butt. The saddest thing had been the pregnant women, of whom there had seemed to be a batallion, and gals with small children in tow, trying to diaper ’em, feed ’em, in the most cramped god-awful conditions, all of these young mothers present and future on their way to see their overseas-bound husbands one last time, or coming back from having seen ’em off.
Lou and Gladys were both staring at me, pity in their eyes, as I’d trailed off in mid-sentence and got lost in thought, thinking about the train ride. That was going to happen; me going in and out of focus like that.
“You might as well get your minds set,” I said. “I’m going to be out of step for a while. Not long ago I was on a tropical island getting shot at. The comparative peace and quiet of Chicago is going to take some getting used to.”
Lou stepped in my, or his, office and got into his overcoat. “Binyon’s okay?” he said.
“Binyon’s is fine,” I said.
As we were leaving, Gladys called out, “Should I tell people you’re in, if they call?”
I stopped, the door open; Lou was already out in the hall. The abortionist was still in business.
“Why should they even know I’m back?” I said.
“Your friend Hal Davis on the News did a story about you. Or rather it was about your friend Mr. Ross, with you in it. How you’re a couple of heroes who are coming back to Chicago.”
“That cocksucker!”
“Mr. Heller!”
“Gladys, I’m sorry. Forgive that. I’ve got a bad case of serviceman’s mouth, and I’ll try to get over it quick.”
“Yes, Mr. Heller.”
“Good girl.”
“Mr. Heller-did, uh, did you see Frankie over there?”
“Uh, no, Gladys. Sorry. It’s a big war. Why, is he in the Pacific?’
“He’s on Guadalcanal, too, didn’t you know?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t. He must’ve been one of the Army boys who came in to spell us. Is he with the Americal Division?”
“Why, yes,” she said. The concern on her face was easy enough to read. Specifically, she was looking at gray, skinny, hollow-eyed me and had to wonder about how her husband was faring. She was Mrs. Fortunato now, you see; they’d gotten hitched just before he joined up.
“Will he be all right, Mr. Heller?”
I knew enough not to assure her of that, but I could in good conscience say, “The Island’s a mop-up operation, now, honey. He should be fine. Barney and me did the hard work; all he’s got to do is clean up after us.”
She liked hearing that; she even smiled. For a girl with no sense of humor, she had a great fucking smile. Nice tits, too. It made me feel good to know I could still appreciate the finer things.
Like Binyon’s. My appetite at St. E’s had been lousy, but the corned beef platter (albeit a smaller serving now) in the familiar male-dominated restaurant with its wooden booths and spare decor reminded me of the simple pleasure of good food. In fact, I attacked the plate like a Jap whose bayonet I’d taken away and was using on him. I think I embarrassed Lou. He didn’t say a word through the meal.
I wiped my face off with a cloth napkin. A cloth napkin; ain’t civilization something. I said, “I didn’t eat on the train ride. No dining car, and if you got off when they made a stop you could lose your seat.”
“No explanation necessary, Nate. This is Lou, remember? We go way back.”
Somebody laughed; me, apparently. “I guess two guys who got falling down drunk together as often as we did, in the old days, ought to cut each other some slack.”
“That’s how I see it.”
“I’m goddamn sorry about your brother.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off his armband.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“But it isn’t,” I said.