He tapped his huge nose. “Smell it on yer. The smell takes a while to wash off. ’Sides, didn’t I say they would?”
“I guess so.”
“It’s all in the stars, laddie. All in the stars.”
“Okay.”
I sat for a while watching the movie. Nicky sat watching me.
“You going to tell me about it, Billy?” he asked finally.
“Maybe later.”
We sat some more. The movie ended. The announcer said a talk show was coming on next. That seemed okay.
“Well, Billy. You ready to get back to work?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” The talk show started.
At the first commercial in the talk show Nicky stood up. He looked worried, but I was watching the commercial. I hadn’t seen it before. “Billy,” he said. “Listen, old son, I know this has got you down, but you’ve got to let go of it. Get out of the house, get back to normal.”
I glanced at Nicky. “This is normal,” I said, and went back to watching the show.
He stood there looking down at me for a long spell. “Oh, mate. Oh, Billy,” he said at last. He sighed.
“I’ll be fine, Nicky.”
He didn’t say anything for a while. Neither did I.
“Well,” he said at last. “I’ll see you later, then, all right?”
“Okay, Nicky.”
From the corner of my eye I could see him. He stood and watched me for another moment, then shook his head and left.
I watched the show. After that there were some cartoons, then the news.
Nicky came back that night and left me a big pot of stew, but there was a movie on and I didn’t get around to it.
In fact there was stuff to watch all night long, and it seemed like such a big effort to get up anyway, so I stayed in my chair and watched most of the night.
The next day was about the same. I thought about getting up and going somewhere, but I couldn’t really think of anywhere I wanted to go. I realized what I was doing wasn’t good, that there was something wrong with me, but I couldn’t think what it was or what to do about it, and anyway there was an awful lot to see on television.
Again in the evening Nicky brought food over. I didn’t look at it. He tried to talk for a few minutes, and once or twice I let him. Then he took yesterday’s stew and went home.
That night around ten the telephone started ringing. I almost got up to answer it, but there was always something on the television. Around two A.M. it stopped ringing.
The next morning I felt a little hungry for the first time. I went in the kitchen and looked at the food Nicky had brought. It was spaghetti. It was cold. I decided I wasn’t hungry.
I went back to the TV just in time to catch a story on “Today.” It was breaking this morning in Los Angeles.
Seemed an assistant chief of police was accused of being the leader of a paramilitary racist organization. Civic leaders had already called for his resignation, but Warren Francis Doyle had disappeared in the face of several serious indictments and nobody knew where he was. It was speculated that he had already left the country. A massive manhunt was on for the fugitive.
I got up and got a plate of spaghetti. It tasted pretty good.
“Today” ran the story again. It was a big story. Even Bryant Gumbel tried to look serious. I didn’t. In fact, my face felt almost like it was smiling.
When the commercial came on I yawned and turned the TV off.