Chapter Eleven

THEY stood there on the sidewalk as the cab pulled away. Johnny looked down at his crutches. They were new and shone with a yellowish brightness. The side of his trouser leg was pinned neatly to his thigh. His one leg looked strange and lonely there between the yellow crutches.

He smiled wryly at Rocco and looked over at the building. The stone letters on the building spelled out: "Magnum Pictures."

"Might as well get it over with," he said.

Rocco looked at him, "Yeanh."

Slowly Johnny moved to the door and hesitated when he reached it. His face was white. There were small beads of sweat on his forehead. "I don't want anybody feeling sorry for me," he said in a low voice.

Rocco smiled reassuringly at him. "Don't worry about that. Nobody will feel sorry for you. They might feel a little strange at first and want to help you a little more than would be normal, but they'll soon get over it when they see you can manage. Then things will be the same as they always were."

"They better be," Johnny said.

"They will," Rocco answered, opening the door for him.

Johnny entered the small waiting-room and Rocco followed him. The girl's face looked curiously at him through the small glass. She made no move to open it.

Rocco smiled at her and motioned to Johnny. "Through that door," he said, pointing.

Johnny looked about him curiously. They had changed the place around. He didn't say anything, but went through the door indicated and they were in a long corridor. From behind the door came the sounds of people working. Typewriters, adding-machines, people talking. They moved toward the end of the corridor. Occasionally someone would pass them in the hall and look at them curiously, impersonally.

Johnny felt as if he were in a strange place. He recognized none of the people who had passed him. They came to another door marked: "Executive Offices."

They went through it and were in a small, pleasantly lighted corridor. There were several comfortable chairs placed there, and the floor was covered with a soft red carpet. There was no sound in there.

"Doesn't sound as if anyone is in here," Johnny said.

"We're early," Rocco answered. "Peter told me that no one got in much before ten o'clock."

Johnny looked at his wristwatch. It was a quarter past nine. "Good. I'll have a chance to sit down for a few minutes before I get started."

"Your office is down the end of the hall, next to Peter's." Rocco said.

Johnny followed down the corridor. Several of the doors had names on them. Johnny did not know them. He had been gone only a little more than two years and yet the business had grown so rapidly during that time that new names had ap­peared on doors. He felt strange, out of place.

They passed a door with Peter's name on it. "Yours is the next office," Rocco said, stopping in front of it.

Johnny looked at the door. His name had been painted on it. The paint looked new, almost as if it hadn't dried yet. Impulsively he put his fingers on it. It was dry.

Rocco smiled at his gesture.

He smiled back at him.

"Shall we go in?" Rocco asked, still smiling.

Johnny nodded.

Rocco threw open the door and stepped back as Johnny came to the threshold.

Johnny stood there in surprise as a wave of sound greeted him. His face went strangely pale and

he seemed to totter a little as he leaned there on his crutches. Rocco put a hand out to steady him.

The room was packed with people—people whom Johnny knew and people whom Johnny had never seen before. Peter and George and Jane were standing in front of the others, looking at him.

The room was all decorated with red, white, and blue bunting, and a big painted sign hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. "Welcome Back, Johnny," it read in big red letters.

The sound died down and he stood there looking at them.

He opened his mouth twice to speak, but nothing came out.

Jane stepped forward and held out her hand. Johnny took it. "Hello, boss," she said as if he had just come back from lunch.

As if it were a signal, someone turned on a phonograph and music began to blare forth and everybody began to sing: "When Johnny comes marching home again, tra la, tra la." He could see the tears in her eyes and felt his own eyes beginning to smart. "Janey," he managed to say.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him. His eyes were clouded with moisture. He tried to put his arms around her, and one of his crutches fell to the floor with a clatter. He stumbled and would have fallen had Rocco not put an arm around him and held him up.

He looked at the crutch lying there on the floor. Then, strangely, as he looked at it, its bright yellow wood gleaming against the soft red carpet, he began to feel helpless. And with that feeling of helplessness came an even stranger feeling of terror—a terror of all these people watching him.

He shut his eyes for a moment. This feeling would pass, he told himself desperately. But it persisted. He began to feel his head reeling. He could feel himself stumbling, falling, but he kept his eyes tightly shut.

He could feel people helping him to a chair. He heard Rocco's voice quietly asking people to leave. He could hear Rocco explaining to them that he was still tired, still weak, and all this excitement was too much for him. He could sense the sudden silence in the room as the people left it. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around him. He was on a small couch. Peter and George and Jane

were watching him with frightened looks on their faces. Rocco was holding a small glass to his lips.

Automatically he drank it. The liquor burned through his throat to his stomach like a livid flame. Color crept back into his cheeks. He smiled wanly at them, but the fear that had been in him still clung to the corners of his heart.

"You all right, Johnny?" Peter asked anxiously.

He nodded his head. "I'm all right," he answered. "Too much excitement I guess. I'll feel better after I get a little rest." He shut his eyes again and let his head sink back against the pillow of the couch. He wished they would go away and leave him alone. He heard the door open and close behind them and he opened his eyes again. Only Rocco was in the room with him now.

"Rock," he whispered.

"What is it, Johnny?"

"Rock, you gotta stay with me, Rock," he said, his voice desperate and cracked with strain. "You gotta stick with me. I'm afraid to be alone with them."

Rocco tried to smile reassuringly at him. "Whatta yuh got to be afraid of, Johnny? They're all your friends."

"I know," Johnny whispered in the same tone of voice, "but I feel so helpless without a leg. When I looked down and saw it wasn't there, I thought everybody was going to laugh at me."

"Nobody would laugh," Rocco said softly.

"I don't care," Johnny said, "I'm afraid. You gotta stick close to me all the time, Rock. I can't face them alone." He grabbed at Rocco's hand and held it tightly. "Promise me, Rock, promise!"

Rocco looked down at him, his face softened. "All right, Johnny," he said slowly, "I'll stick around."

"Promise!" Johnny insisted.

Rocco hesitated a moment. "I promise," he said reluctantly.

A little while later Jane came back into the office. She was carrying a tray. On it was a pot of coffee and two cups. "I thought some coffee would do you good," she said, placing the tray on a small table in front of his couch.

"It will help," Rocco said, pouring out a cup and giving it to Johnny.

"Thanks," Johnny said to her. Suddenly he noticed her hand. Something was sparkling on her finger.

He put his cup down and caught her hand and looked at it. She was wearing a small engagement ring and a wedding band. "Janey," he cried out in surprise, "you're married!" He looked at her. "You should have told me. When did it happen?"

"I wrote you," she said quietly. "It was about four months after you went away."

"I never got the letter," he said. "What's he like?"

She looked at him a moment before she answered. "He was a very nice guy. A soldier. I met him at a dance."

The tense in which she spoke suddenly sank into his mind. He looked into her eyes. "He didn't come back?" he asked softly.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "He—he didn't come back."

He took both her hands. "I'm sorry, Janey. I didn't know. No one told me."

"No one could. They didn't know where you were. We tried to locate you, but everything was all mixed up and we couldn't get anything straight."

They were silent for a few seconds, then she spoke again. "But things aren't so bad. I've got the cutest little son."

Johnny looked at her. She stared back into his eyes. Her gaze was steady, even a little bit proud. He dropped his eyes to her hands. "There are a lot of things I got to catch up with around here," he said. "Everything has changed."

"Not everything, Johnny," she said. "Only what you think has changed."

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14