Death In The Family, A - James Agee [10]
“Cut it out, Ralph. What the hell you think I am? If he gets conscious just let him know I’m comin’. And Ralph ...”
“Yeah?”
But now he did not want to say it. He said it anyway. “I know I got no room to talk, but—try not to drink so much that Mother will notice it. Drink some coffee fore you go back. Huh? Drink it black.”
“Sure, Jay, and don’t think I take offense so easy. I wouldn’t add a mite to her troubles, not at this time, not for this world, Jay. You know that. So Jay, I thank you. I thank you for calling it to my tention. I don’t take offense. I thank you, Jay. I thank you.”
“That’s all right, Ralph. Don’t mention it,” he added, feeling hypercritical and a little disgusted again. “Now I’ll be right along. So good-bye.”
“You tell Mary how it is, Jay. Don’t want her thinking bad of me, ringing ...”
“That’s all right. She’ll understand. Good-bye, Ralph.”
“I wouldn’t a rung you up, Jay if ...”
“That’s all right. Thanks for calling. Good-bye.”
Ralph’s voice was unsatisfied. “Well, good-bye,” he said.
Wants babying, Jay realized. Not appreciated enough. He listened. The line was still open. The hell I will, he thought, and hung up. Of all the crybabies, he thought, and went on back to the bedroom.
“Gracious sake,” said Mary, under her breath. “I thought he’d talk forever!”
“Oh, well,” Jay said, “reckon he can’t help it.” He sat on the bed and felt for his socks.
“It is your father, Jay?”
“Yup,” he said, pulling on one sock.
“Oh, you’re going up,” she said, suddenly realizing what he was doing. She put her hand on him. “Then it’s very grave, Jay,” she said very gently.
He fastened his garter and put his hand over hers. “Lord knows,” he said. “I can’t be sure enough of anything with Ralph, but I can’t afford to take the risk.”
“Of course not.” Her hand moved to pat him; his hand moved on hers. “Has the doctor seen him?” she asked cautiously.
“He says he has a chance, Ralph says.”
“That could mean so many things. It might be all right if you waited till morning. You might hear he was better, then. Not that I mean to ...”
Because, to his shame, he had done the same kinds of wondering himself, he was now exasperated afresh. The thought even flashed across his mind, That’s easy for you to say. He’s not your father, and besides you’ve always looked down at him. But he drove this thought so well away that he thought ill of himself for having believed it, and said, “Sweetheart, I’d rather wait and see what we hear in the morning, just as much as you would. It may all be a false alarm. I know Ralph goes off his trolley easy. But we just can’t afford to take that chance.”
“Of course not, Jay.” There was a loud stirring as she got from bed.
“What you up to?”
“Why, your breakfast,” she said, switching on the light. “Sakes alive!” she said, seeing the clock.
“Oh, Mary. Get on back to bed. I can pick up something downtown.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, hurrying into her bathrobe.
“Honest, it would be just as easy,” he said. He liked night lunchrooms, and had not been in one since Rufus was born. He was very faintly disappointed. But still more, he was warmed by the simplicity with which she got up for him, thoroughly awake.
“Why, Jay, that is out of the question!” she said, knotting the bathrobe girdle. She got into her slippers and shuffled quickly to the door. She looked back and said, in a stage whisper, “Bring your shoes—to the kitchen.”
He watched her disappear, wondering what in hell she meant by that, and was suddenly taken with a snort of silent amusement. She had looked so deadly serious, about the shoes. God, the ten thousand little things every day that a woman kept thinking of, on account of children. Hardly even thinking, he thought to himself, as he pulled on his other sock. Practically automatic. Like breathing.
And most of the time, he thought, as he stripped, they’re dead right. Course they’re so much in the habit of it (he stepped