The Chosen

СодержаниеChapter 3 → Часть 4

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Часть 4

Billy's father had come to see him again, and they were talking quietly. He glanced at me and smiled warmly. He was a fine looking person, and I noticed he had a long white scar on his forehead running parallel to the line of his light blond hair.

'Billy tells me you've been very nice to him, ' he said to me.

I sort of nodded my head on the pillow and tried to smile back.

'I appreciate that very much, ' he said. 'Billy wonders if you would call us when he gets out of the hospital: 'Sure, ' I said.

'We're in the phone book. Roger Merrit. Billy says that after his operation, when he can see again, he would like to see what you look like: 'Sure, I'll give you a call, ' I said.

'Did you hear that, Billy? '

'Yes, ' Billy said happily. 'Didn't I tell you he was nice, Daddy? ' The man smiled at me, then turned back to Billy. They went on talking quietly.

I lay in the bed and thought about all the things that had happened during the day, and felt sad and depressed.

The next morning, Mrs Carpenter told me I could get out of bed and walk around a bit. After breakfast, I went out into the hall for a while. I looked out a window and saw people outside on the street. I stood there, staring out the window a long time. Then I went back to my bed and lay down.

I saw Mr Savo sitting up in his bed, playing cards and grinning.

'Hows it feel to be on your feet, Bobby boy? ' he asked me.

'It feels wonderful. I'm a little tired, though. '

'Take it real slow, kid. Takes a while to get the old strength back.

One of the patients near the radio at the other end of the ward let out a shout. I leaned over and turned on my radio. The announcer was talking about a breakthrough on one of the beaches. 'That's clopping them! ' Mr Savo said, grinning broadly.

I wondered what that beach must look like now, and I could see it filled with broken vehicles and dead soldiers.

I spent the morning listening to the radio. When Mrs Carpenter came over, I asked her how long I would be in the hospital, and she smiled and said Dr Snydman would have to decide that. 'Dr Snydman will see you Friday morning, ' she added.

I was beginning to feel a lot less excited over the war news and a lot more annoyed that I couldn't read. In the afternoon, I listened to some of the soap operas – Life Can Be Beautiful, Stella Dallas, Mary Noble, Ma Perkins – and what I heard depressed me even more. I decided to turn off the radio and get some sleep.

'Do you want to hear any more of this? ' I asked Billy. He didn't answer, and I saw he was sleeping.

'Turn it off, kid: Mr Savo said. 'How much of that junk can a guy take? '

I turned off the radio and lay back on my pillow.

'Never knew people could get clopped so hard the way they clop them on those soap operas, ' Mr Savo said. 'Wen. well, look who's here. '

'Who? ' I sat up.

'Your real religious clopper. '

I saw it was Danny Saunders. He came up the aisle and stood alongside my bed, wearing the same clothes he had the day before.

'Are you going to get angry at me again? ' he asked hesitantly.

'No, ' I said.

'Can I sit down? '

'Thanks, ' he said, and sat down on the edge of the bed to my right. I saw Mr Savo stare at him for a moment, then go back to his cards.

'You were pretty rotten yesterday, you know, ' Danny Saunders said.

'I'm sorry about that. ' I was surprised at how happy I was to see him.

'I didn't so much mind you being angry, ' he said. 'What I thought was rotten was the way you wouldn't let me talk. '

'That was rotten, all right. I'm really sorry. '

'I came up to talk to you now. Do you want to listen? '

'Sure. ' I said.

'I've been thinking about that ball game. I haven't stopped thinking about it since you got hit. '

'I've been thinking about it, too, ' I said.

'Whenever I do or see something I don't understand, I like to think about it until I understand it. ' He talked very rapidly, and I could see he was tense. 'I've thought about it a lot, but I still don't understand it. I want to talk to you about it. Okay? '

'Sure, ' I said.

'Do you know what I don't understand about that ball game?

I don't understand why I wanted to kill you. ' I stared at him.

'It's really bothering me. '

'Well, I should hope so, ' I said.

'Don't be so cute, Malter. I'm not being melodramatic. I really wanted to kill you. '

'Well, it was a pretty hot ball game, ' I said" 'I didn't exactly love you myself there for a while. '

'I don't think you even know what I'm talking about, ' he said. 'Now, wait a minute -'

'No, listen. Just listen to what I'm saying, will you? Do you remember that second curve you threw me? '

'Do you remember I stood in front of the plate afterwards and looked at you? '

'Sure. ' I remembered the idiot grin vividly.

'Well, that's when I wanted to walk over to you and open your head with my bat: I didn't know what to say.

'I don't know why I didn't. I wanted to. '

'That was some ball game, ' I said, a little awed by what he was telling me.

'It had nothing to do with the ball game, ' he said. 'At least I don't think it did. You weren't the first tough team we played. And we've lost before, too. But you really had me going, Malter. I can't figure it out. Anyway, I feel better telling you about it. '

'Please stop calling me Malter, ' I said.

He looked at me. Then he smiled faintly. 'What do you want me to call you? '

'If you're going to call me anything, call me Reuven, ' I said. 'Malter sounds as if you're a schoolteacher or something. '

'Okay, ' he said, smiling again. 'Then you call me Danny. '

'Fine, ' I said.

'It was the wildest feeling, ' he said. 'I've never felt that way before. '

I looked at him, and suddenly I had the feeling that everything around me was out of focus. There was Danny Saunders, sitting on my bed in the hospital dressed in his Hasidic-style clothes and talking about wanting to kill me because I had pitched him some curve balls. He was dressed like a Hasid, but he didn't sound like one. Also, yesterday I had hated him; now we were calling each other by our first names. I sat and listened to him talk. I was fascinated just listening to the way perfect English came out of a person in the clothes of a Hasid. I had always thought their English was tinged with a Yiddish accent. As a matter of fact, the few times I had ever talked with a Hasid, he had spoken only Yiddish. And here was Danny Saunders talking English, and what he was saying and the way he was saying it just didn't seem to fit in with the way he was dressed, with the side curls on his face and the fringes hanging down below his dark jacket.

'You're a pretty rough fielder and pitcher, ' he said, smiling at me a little.

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