From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [403]
“I guess I’m over the hump for good now,” he said. “Even after I’m well I still cant go back. When I dont show today they’ll know I did it. They’ll be looking for me.”
“What do you plan to do?”
“I dont know.”
“Well, at least you’ll be safe here. Nobody here knows who we are. So you can stay here if you want,” she said, looking up with a question at Georgette coming in with the hot soup.
“You can stay as long as you want, kiddo,” Georgette grinned, “as far as I’m concerned. If thats what you two are wondering.”
“We hadnt mentioned it,” Alma said. “But thats a point that would have to be considered: how you felt.”
“I’ve always had a soft spot for crazy sons of bitches,” Georgette grinned. “And I aint got nothing to thank the Law for except my free medical examination every Friday.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Georgia,” Alma said.
“I’ll be a fugitive from Leavenworth,” Prew reminded her. “A murderer, to the Law.”
“To coin a phrase,” Georgette said, “up the Law’s.”
The coined phrase obviously did not appeal much to Alma, but she did not say anything.
“Can you sit up by yourself for this?” Georgette said, moving the cup.
“Sure,” Prew said, and swung his legs down over the side of the divan, pulling his trunk up. Bright hot spots danced on a warm moist film in front of his eyes.
“You crazy dam fool!” Alma cried angrily. “You want to start it bleeding again? Lay back down and let me help you.”
“I’m up now,” Prew said weakly. “But I’ll let you help me back down after I drink the soup.”
“You’re going to get lots of this,” Georgette said, holding the cup to his lips. “You’ll probly get so much of it you’ll probly be damned sick of it.”
“It tastes good now though,” he said between swallows.
“Wait till tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Alma smiled, “we’ll feed you a good big thick steak, rare and bloody.”
“And liver and onions,” Georgette grinned.
“A T-bone?” Prew said.
“Or a porterhouse,” Alma said.
“Man, man,” he said, “stop it, you’re killing me.”
There was that same loving look on both their faces again, more pronounced now, of an almost unbelievable happy tenderness.
“You gals sure treat your invalids right,” he grinned at them. “How about a cigaret now?”
Alma lit it for him. It tasted wonderful, better than the one in the alley, because now he could relax with it. He dragged the smoke deep into his lungs and it seemed to ease the stiff sore fire of indignant protest from his side, even though it hurt to breathe that deep.
It hurt also, considerably, when they had helped him back down; and that, he reminded himself, is only today. Wait till tomorrow. And then wait till the second day which will be even worse. But it didnt hurt nearly so much as the big gesture of sitting up by himself. Well, okay, to hell with the gestures, he thought, letting himself sink back down into the luxurious will-less irresponsibility that is the nicest thing about being bad sick.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m all right now. You gals might as well go on back to bed.”
“We’ve stayed up this long,” Alma smiled happily. “We might as well stay up the rest of the night.”
“You dont get any more chances to doctor invalids than I get chances to be sick, do you?” he grinned.
“Now you just go back to sleep,” she said bossily. “Try not to talk. Try to rest.”
“But dont you want to hear all about the big fight?”
“We’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow,” Georgette said.
“Okay, doc,” he grinned.
“Do you think you can sleep all right?” Alma said.
“Sure,” he said. “Sleep like a top.”
“I’ll give you a sedative if you want.”
“Wont even need it.” And he had lain and watched them as they turned off all the lights but the night light on the end-table and then go back to their chairs in the gloom, Alma to the armchair this time and Georgette to the chaise-longue.
The radio-bar was still in the corner of the sunken tile floor by the steps to the kitchen and the record-player was still on the little table by the record-cabinet and the three steps still went up to the glass doors that opened