The Fortunate Pilgrim - Mario Puzo [59]
Vinnie was reading in the kitchen. When he saw Gino, he took a plate of peppers and eggs and potatoes out of the oven and put it on the table. Then he went out into the hall to the icebox and brought back a bottle of milk. Gino took a slug right from the bottle. Then he sat down to eat.
Vinnie said quietly, but a little accusingly, “Where were you all day? Mom and Octavia were worried and Larry looked all over for you. They were worried about you.”
“Yeah, sure,” Gino said sarcastically. But he felt better. After a few mouthfuls he couldn’t eat any more. He put his leg up on the chair. It was stiff. He pulled up his pants leg. The scab was huge and bloody, and blown up like a black cake.
“Wow.” Vinnie was impressed. “You better put some iodine on that. And on your face and hands, too. You get in a fight?”
“Nah,” Gino said, “I just got hit by a car.” He almost cried when he said it. He went to the sink and washed. Then he went into the front room and unfolded the bed and undressed. He was cold, so he put a blanket over his body. He took the five-dollar bill from his pants and held it. His stomach quivered, his face felt hot. He saw the car now as he had not seen it then, rushing up and hitting him, and his body flying through the air. Vinnie was sitting on the bed near him. “I got hit by a car,” Gino said in a trembling voice. “See? The guy gave me five dollars. He was a nice guy. He even wanted me to go to a hospital, but I wasn’t hurt. I was just hitching and jumped off right in front of him. It was all my fault.” He opened his hand. “See? Five bucks.”
Both boys stared at the money. It was a fortune. Vinnie had a five-dollar gold piece for his Confirmation from Zia Louche, but he would never be allowed to spend it. “Gee,” Vinnie said, “what are you gonna do with it, give it to Ma?”
“Like hell,” Gino said. “If she knows I got hit by a car I’ll get a beating.” Then, seriously, “Let’s make those bottles of root beer like you always wanted to, Vinnie, and sell it and make money. Remember? Maybe we could build up a good business.”
Vinnie was delighted. It had always been his dream. “No kidding?” he asked. And when Gino nodded, Vinnie said, “You better let me hold the money. Ma might take it off you and make you save it.”
“No, sir,” Gino said suspiciously. “I’m gonna hold this money myself.”
Vinnie was surprised and hurt. Gino always let him hold his money, the ice money, the winnings from Seven-and-a-half.
“C’mon,” Vinnie said. “Let me hold the five dollars. You’ll lose it.”
Gino said spitefully, “I got hit by the car, you didn’t. You didn’t even come with me. You were on Octavia’s side. You’re lucky I made you a partner.”
He lay back on his pillow. Vinnie watched him carefully. Gino had never acted this way before. “O.K.,” he said. “You hold the money.”
Gino lay back on the pillow and said almost absently, “And I have to be the boss making the root beer. It’s my money.”
This hurt Vinnie’s feelings. He was the older and it was his idea. He nearly said, “You and your five dollars can go to hell.” But instead he said, “O.K., you’ll be the boss. You want a bandage on your knee?”
“Nah, it don’t hurt,” Gino said. “Let’s talk about how to make that root beer. And remember, don’t tell anybody I got hit by a car. I’ll just get a beating.”
Vinnie said, “I’ll go get a paper and pencil to figure expenses.” He went into the kitchen and cleaned the table and washed the dishes. The mother had given strict orders that Gino was to clean up after eating supper. Then he got the pencil and pad from his schoolbag.
When Vinnie got back to the front room it was almost dark, the last shreds of twilight. In the dimness he saw Gino’s relaxed hand on the blanket. The crumpled five-dollar bill was on the floor. Gino was sound asleep, his body completely inert, his eyes closed.
But there were strange sounds coming from the bed. Vinnie went closer and saw that his brother was crying in his sleep, tears streaming down his face. Vinnie shook him to wake him out