I’d been in the dark, a nightmare. I’d almost been trapped in one. But now I’d waked up and got away, and it was light again. I’d seen my last of that place, I thought. It was gone away, vanished into the darkness. I’d never been there, and it had never been there.
But it was there. I hadn’t seen the last of it.
4
The truck driver took the bottle out of my hand, and poured a little of it in his coke. He passed it on to the other truck driver and the other one poured some in his coffee, and handed the bottle back to me.
The counterman watched us, frowning a little but not really sore. He’d taken a couple of drinks, too, and he was just worried, not sore.
“Don’t flash the jug around so much, huh?” he said. “Some highway patrolman comes by here, he might make trouble.”
“Aaah!” One of the truck drivers winked at him. “Why would anyone make trouble for Collie? Collie’s just waiting for a streetcar.”
“Not a streetcar. I’m waiting for this friend of mine, Jack Billingsley. You see—”
“Sure.” The other truck driver grinned. “What kind of plane did you say he was flying?”
“I’ve told you several times now,” I said. “It’s an automobile. It—”
“Oh, yeah. A Rolls-Royce, wasn’t it?”
“No, he’s got a Rolls-Royce—two of them, in fact—but he wasn’t driving one today. What he had today was a big Cadillac convertible. Some little thing went wrong with it, so I started walking back to a garage—”
“Maybe he had to stop to feed the horses…”
“Maybe the caboose ran off the track…”
“Maybe,” I said, “a couple of wise guys would like to have their faces pushed in.”
The lunchroom went dead silent. The truck drivers stopped grinning, and the counterman glanced uneasily toward the telephone. After a moment I forced a laugh.
“I’m only joking, of course. We’re all here joking and drinking together, so I joked a little too. I didn’t mean it any more than you meant the things you said to me.”
One of the truck drivers laid some change on the counter. He and the other one got up, and kind of edged toward the door. I stood up too.
“How about a ride?” I said. “I’ve got a little money, and there’s still some of the whiskey left.”
“Sorry. Company says no riders.”
“I can ride in the back. Just let me ride with you until daylight. Maybe not even until daylight. I’ll probably see that darned crazy Jack Billingsley on the road.”
The screen door slammed, then the truck doors. The motor roared, and they were gone. The counterman stared at me. I stared back at him. Finally his eyes wavered and he spoke sort of whining.
“Please, Mac. Clear out, will you, huh? You ain’t never going to get no ride.”
“I certainly won’t get one out on the highway. No one’ll stop for me at night.”
“But that ain’t my fault! You got no right hanging around here, getting me into trouble. What’ll people think, for gosh sake? They come in here, an’ you start jabbering away at ’em…”
“I’m sorry. I won’t say another word to anyone. I’ll just wait around quietly until it gets a little lighter.”
He groaned and cursed under his breath. “Well, get away from the counter then! If you simply got to hang around, go an’ set in that rear booth.”
“Why, certainly. I’ll be glad to.”
I went back to the rear booth. I slid in as close as I could to the wall and put my head down on my arms. I was worn out, what with all I’d been through and not being in a bed for three days. But I couldn’t relax, let alone sleep. My mind kept going back to Fay—how nice she’d been to me, and what was going to happen to her. I couldn’t rest or relax.
I sat up and lighted a cigarette. I took a couple more drinks, and put my head down again. Finally I dozed. Or, I guess I should say, I passed out.
I came out of it frightened, not knowing where I was, not remembering how I had got here. I jumped up almost before my eyes were open, and headed for the door.
The bottle slid out of my pocket. I made a grab for it, and it sort of jumped out of my hands. It bounced and rolled along the floor, and I stumbled after it, staggering and bumping into the other booths until I finally fell down in one.
There was a man in it, a customer, sitting on the bench opposite me. A young-oldish looking fellow, or maybe you could call him old-youngish looking. He glanced at the counterman and shook his head. Then he stooped down and picked up the bottle. He handed it to me, picking up the sandwich he’d been eating.
“Pretty good.” He motioned with it casually. “Like to have me order you one?”
“No, thank you.”
“I think you should. Have some coffee anyway.”
I said, thank you; I guessed I’d wait to eat until my friend, Jack Billingsley, showed up. “That darned crazy Jack.” I laughed. “We were on our way to California, driving at night, you know, because it’s so much cooler. And…”
He went on eating, keeping his eyes on his plate. Then, suddenly he looked up. He listened, frowning, staring into my eyes and studying my face.
“All right…” He laid a hand on my arm gently. “No harm done. It’s a nice harmless little story and shows a fine imagination, but it’s not necessary with me. Where do you live?”
“Well…”
“I see. Been getting along all right?”
“About like always. Pretty good, I guess. Not really good, you know, but all right.”
“How long since you were under commitment?”
I started to say a few days, but then I changed it real fast. I said it had been over a year. The name of the place I gave him was the one before the last one.
“Would you like to go back to it? Don’t you think you should go back?”
“Well, I guess I should, kind of. I haven’t been in trouble or anything, but—You’re a doctor?”
“Yes. And I think you should go back, too. Unless, of course, you’ve got some friend or member of your family who can help you.”
“I haven’t.”
“Well, let’s see…” He rubbed his face. “Let’s see, now. I wonder what you’d better—” He broke off scowling, looking sort of mad at himself. “I’ll tell you—what’s your name, Collins? Well, I’ll tell you, Collins, you’d better take whatever money you can get together and go straight back.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do that. I can probably hitchhike most of the way.”
“I wish I could help you myself, but I just don’t have the time and the money. I can only do so much, and I’m already—”
“I’ll tell you what I might do,” I broke in. “Maybe I could get a commitment in this state.”
“A non-resident?” He laughed briefly. “Not that it would mean much if you were resident. Sometimes, Collins, sometimes I think they take them in the front door here and lead them right on out the back.”
“Yes, sir. I guess it’s pretty much that way everywhere.”
“They can’t get the money to operate on. There’s money for highways and swimming pools and football stadiums. For everything but the most important things. And then people wonder. They wonder why, when some terrible tragedy takes place, that—”
“I’ll be all right,” I assured him. “You don’t need to worry about me, Doctor.”
“Well.” He bit his lip. “Well, here. Let me give you my card, anyway. If you should remain in this section, and if there’s any kind of emergency—even if it isn’t an emergency, if you just want to talk to someone—why, be sure to call me.”
I thanked him, and said I’d certainly do that. He slid out of the booth, walked over to the counter, and paid his check.
He started toward the door. Then he wheeled around abruptly and came back to the booth.
“You’re sure you’ll be all right, Collins? You’ll lay off the booze, and, uh, behave yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine. G
ood boy. You go back there and stay this time. Stay no matter how long it takes.”
“Yes, sir. That’s just what I’m going to do, Doctor.”
He kind of sighed and shook his head. “You are like hell! How can you? Why the hell should you? Come on!”
“What?” I said. “Come on?”
“And make it snappy, dammit. Before I have time to change my mind.”
He lived in the city, the one I’d passed through that morning. He had a nice little brick cottage there, just inside the city limits, with his offices in the front and his living quarters in the rear. Except that I kept thinking about Fay Anderson—and worrying about her—the three days I spent there were just about the most pleasant I can remember.
There were plenty of books to read. There was a big lawn I could work on whenever I got restless, lots of food in the refrigerator, and a bedroom all of my own. I think I enjoyed that last more than anything else. Most places I’d been in—you know, “places”—I was always crowded. There’d maybe be a dozen of us in one little room. You looked around, and they’d be watching you. They looked around, and you’d be watching them. And you never got used to it.
The longer it went on, the more it bothered you. It would have been bad enough if you were all the same kind of guys and had the same degree of mental disturbance, but you just never were. Just when you thought you had a pretty good gang, they’d move in someone that was honest-to-gosh bad. A real wild-eyed guy—just anyone, it looked like, that could get around without a strait jacket. And before long you began to feel a little wild-eyed yourself. You couldn’t rest. How can you rest when there’s some lunatic in the same room with you?
There at Doc’s house, in a big room all of my own, I really slept for the first time in years. I didn’t have any medication after the first night. I didn’t want any, and Doc said I didn’t need any.
The third night—well, it was actually the fourth—he came in and sat down on the edge of my bed. He asked me how I was feeling, and I said I’d never felt better. He murmured that that was good, to get all the rest I could so I’d be in good shape for my trip.
“Of course,” he said, not looking at me, “you’ll probably be here several weeks yet. Perhaps several months. I sent the institution a wire three days ago, but these things take a lot of time.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I don’t know why they should, but I guess they do.”
“I was going to ask you, Collie.” He kept his eyes away from mine. “In case, they should refuse to send for you; if they don’t feel able to, that is, because of the expense…”
“Yes, Doc?”
“How would you feel about staying on here with me? There’s plenty you could do to earn your keep. Yard work and car repairs and so on. You’d be a big help to me, and I think I’d be of some help to you, and—Well, it would be a fine arrangement for both of us. What do you say, Collie? Would you like to do that?”
“I—I—Excuse me just a minute. Doc. I’ll be right back.”
I got up and went into the bathroom. I stayed in there with the door closed until I was sure I could control myself.
Good old Doc, I thought. He was a swell guy, but he was just about the world’s worst liar. He’d had plenty of time to hear from the institutional authorities in that state where I’d been. I knew that he had heard from them, too, and that they had refused to send for me. I’d been almost sure that they would. They’ll very seldom send for a guy unless he’s a violent or criminal case.
Now, since there was no one else to look after me, Doc was willing to take on the job himself. I washed my face, and ran a drink of water. Then I made myself smile, and went back into the bedroom again. I said that I’d be tickled to death to stay. I tried to look natural and sound natural, but I guess it wasn’t a perfect try.
“I can afford it, Collie.” He looked at me closely, and looked away again. “Why, I’d tell you so in a minute if I couldn’t.”
“Fine.”
“It’s all settled then? You’ll stay?”
“As long as you can afford it.”
“I can. I want you to and you must. You see, Collie, your judgment just isn’t good. You’re inherently decent with a lot of good, strong moral fibre, but that isn’t enough. There’ll come a time or a situation when it won’t be enough. A man in your condition is readily influenced by others; broadly speaking, he has to depend on them. And you and I know they’re not always dependable…”
He paused and lit his pipe. He took a few puffs on it, then went on again.
“Sometimes they’re merely ignorant. Sometimes they’re cruel or criminal. In any case, they’re playing with dynamite. Actually, Collie, there’d be much less danger in your roaming around on your own if you were an out-and-out lunatic—one of the wild-eyed guys, to borrow your own expression. People could see the danger then. Now, well, what do they see, now? Why, they see an unusually handsome young man. A little eccentric perhaps, a little slow on the uptake occasionally, but in most respects normal. So they treat you as though you were normal, and the result sooner or later, is certain to be tragedy. For you, for others. You only need to look at almost any daily newspaper to see that I’m right.”
“I don’t know, Doc, I’ve been pretty good about steering clear of trouble. I’ve never hurt anyone or ever done anything really bad.”
“What do you call really bad, Collie? And how do you take it when someone kids you or teases you? Never mind.” He smiled and slapped me on the knee. “I’m sure you’ve done fine, hard as it was. And from now on you’ll do even better. You stay here for a year or so, however long it takes, and…”
He left on his calls around ten the next morning. As soon as he was gone, I called the doctors’ answering service and reported him out.
Then, I left too.
5
Fay Anderson had given me about thirty dollars when I left her place, and I’d had around three of my own. But, now, I had a little less than five. I don’t know what had happened to the rest of it, whether I’d jerked it out of my pocket and lost it or whether someone had gotten it away from me in that lunchroom. But that little bit, around five dollars, was all I had left.
It was almost worse than having nothing.
I couldn’t really travel anywhere on it. It wasn’t more than enough to live on a day or so. A few days before, five dollars would have looked pretty good to me. But I’d kind of changed since then. I didn’t see how I could go back to living like I had—knocking around and getting knocked around. Sleeping in culverts and begging for handouts, and bumming rides to places I didn’t actually care about going to.
As Uncle Bud said, that was bad. Really bad. When I thought about it, certain other things didn’t look so bad at all.
I used fifteen cents of my money for a crosstown bus fare. I got off at the highway, the one that led past her place, and, well, for a while, I just loafed around there. I sat on the bus-stop bench, and I got an ice cream cone from a peddler, and I window-shopped the neighborhood stores. It was hard to decide what to do. I always have trouble making decisions, and this was a particularly hard one.
I paced back and forth in front of the store windows, arguing with myself, fumbling with that little bit of money I had in my pockets. I certainly didn’t want to put Fay on the spot, more or less force her to go ahead with something she was against. On the other hand, she was already on a pretty bad spot, wasn’t she? She couldn’t go on like that, anymore than I could go on like this. And it would be good to see her again. So I could just stop by for a visit, couldn’t I? I wouldn’t need to stay.
It was when I was looking in a liquor store window that I finally made up my mind. There was a big curved-neck bottle inside—just wine, but it looked mighty fancy, and the price was only three ninety-eight. I figured it would make a nice present for her. I could take that out to her, and it would give me a reason for stopping by.
I bought it. Then, I stepped out on the highway and started thumbing. No one would stop for me, but
finally a truck came by slow enough so I could hop on the tailgate.
It was pretty rough riding there, and the day was another scorcher. I kept jouncing up and down, and, of course, the wine did too. And I imagine it got a lot hotter than I did.
We came to the little lane that led up to her house. I swung off the truck, running, and that final jouncing was just a little bit more than the wine could take. The bottle exploded; it blew up right in my arms. There must have been a gallon of that sticky red wine, and I’ll bet every drop of it went on me.
I hated to call on Fay looking that way, but I didn’t have any choice. I had to get washed up and do something about my clothes, and her house was the only place I could.
It was early in the afternoon when I got there. She’d only been up a couple hours, so she hadn’t had too much to drink. Quite a lot for the average person, I suppose, but not for Fay. It was just enough to put her in a good mood.
“Oh, Collie! You crazy, silly, sweet—” She threw her arms around me, laughing. “What in the world happened to you, baby?”
“Well, I just happened to be in the neighborhood. I thought I’d bring you a little present, a little wine.”
“A barrel, darling? Were you rolling it across”—she laughed uproariously—“across the highway and through the trees to Grandma’s house?”
She laughed and laughed, kind of crying along with it. She pushed me into a chair, and sat down on my lap. And I tried to tell her she’d get all messy, but she didn’t even seem to hear me.
“I’m glad you came back, Collie,” she whispered. “I wish you hadn’t, I prayed that you wouldn’t, Collie. But I’m glad.”
“I’m glad, too. I didn’t mean to, but it just seemed like I had to. After I met you and…and everything, I just couldn’t take that old concrete pasture any more.”
“The—the what, Collie?”
“The concrete pasture. I mean, that’s what it seems like to me. You keep going and going, and it’s always the same everywhere. Wherever you’ve been, wherever you go, everywhere you look. Just grayness and hardness, as far as you can see.”