"Quit it, Ralph," he said sharply. "Cut that out and tell me about it."
"Hit's only my duty, Jay, God Almighty I…"
"All right, Ralph," he said, "I preciate your callin. Now tell me about Paw."
"I just got back fer this, Jay, this minute, hurried home specially to ring you up… Course I'm agoan right back, you…"
"Listen, Ralph. Listen here. Can you hear me?" Ralph was silent. "Is he dead or alive?"
"Paw?"
Jay started to say, "Yeah, Paw," in tight rage, but he heard Ralph begin again. He can't help it, he thought, and waited.
"Why, naw, he ain't dead," Ralph said, deflated. The darkness lifted considerably from Jay: coldly, he listened to Ralph whickering up his feelings again. Finally, his voice shaking satisfactorily, he said, "But O Lord God, hit looks like the end Jay!"
I should come up, huh?" He began to wonder whether Ralph was sober enough to be trusted; Ralph heard, and misunderstood the doubt in his voice.
His own voice became dignified. "Course that's entirely up to you, Jay. I know Paw n all of us would feel it was mighty strange if his oldest boy, the one he always thought the most of…"
This new voice and this new tack bewildered Jay for a moment. Then he understood what Ralph was driving at, and had misunderstood, and assumed about him, and was glad that he was not where he could hit him. He cut in.
"Hold on, Ralph, you hold on there. If Paw's that bad you know damn well I'm comin so don't give me none a that…" But he realized, with self-dislike, how unimportant it was to argue this matter with Ralph and said, "Listen here, Ralph, now don't think I'm jumping on you, just listen. Do you hear me?" His feet and legs were getting chilly. He warmed one foot beneath the other. "Hear me?"
"I can hear you, Jay."
"Ralph, get it straight I'm not trying to jump on you, but sounds to me like you've had a few. Now…"
"Now hold on. I don't give a damn if you're drunk or sober, far's you're concerned: point is this, Ralph. Anyone that's drunk, I know it myself, they're likely to exaggerate…"
"You think I'm a lyin to you? You…"
"Shut up, Ralph. Course you're not. But if you're drunk you can get an exaggerated idea how serious a thing is. Now you think a minute. Just think it over. And remember nobody's goin to think bad of you if you change your mind, or for calling either. Just how sick is he really, Ralph?"
"Course if you don't want to take my word for…"
"Think, Goddamn it!" Ralph was silent. Jay changed his feet around. He suddenly realized how foolish he had been to try to get anything level-headed out of Ralph. "Listen, Ralph," he said. "I know you wouldn't a phoned if you didn't think it was serious. Is Sally there?"
"Why yeah, she…"
"Let me talk to her a minute, will you?"
"Why I just told you she's out home."
"Course Mother's out there."
"Why, Jay, she wouldn't never leave his side. Mother…"
"Doctor's been out, of course."
"He's with him still. Was when I left."
"What's he say?"
Ralph hesitated. He did not want to spoil his story. "He says he has a chance, Jay."
By the way Ralph said it, Jay suspected the doctor had said, a good chance.
He was at the edge of asking whether it was a good chance or just a chance when he was suddenly overcome by even more disgust for himself, for haggling about it, than for Ralph. Besides, his feet were so chilly they were beginning to itch.
"Look here, Ralph," he said, in a different voice. "I'm talking too much. I…"
"Yeah, reckon our time must be about up, but what's a few…"
"Listen here. I'm starting right on up. I ought to be there by-what time is it, do you know?"
"Hit's two-thirty-seven, Jay. I knowed you'd…"
"I ought to be there by daylight, Ralph, you tell Mother I'm coming right on up just quicks I can get there. Ralph. Is he conscious?"
"Awf an' on, Jay. He's been speakin yore name, Jay, hit like to break muh heart. He'll sure thank his stars that his oldest boy, the one he always thought the most of, that you thought it was worth yer while to…"
"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.