"I don't think I've been here since I solicited for the mutual fund," she says. She is crying. 'I'm soliciting again." Red Cross, thinks Nailles, Muscular Dystrophy, Heart Trouble? "What is your cause tonight," Nailles asks.
"The Harvey family," she says. "I'm soliciting for Dads." She laughs; she sobs.
"Please come in and sit down," says Nailles. "Let me get you a drink."
"Well it's a long story," she says, "but I guess I'd better tell it if I expect your help. I guess you know that Charlie's a junior in Amherst. He went down to Boston and took part in a demonstration. He was arrested and spent a couple of nights in jail but they let him off with a fine and suspended sentence. Then two weeks ago the draft board changed his classification from student deferment to 1A. He was ordered to report for induction the day before yesterday. I mentioned the fact that he was going to be inducted when I was at the beauty parlor and the woman beside me-I don't really know her-told me there was a psychiatrist in the village who makes a specialty in drilling young men in how to disqualify themselves for the army. He charges five hundred dollars. I thought of speaking to Dads about this but it seemed dishonest. Charlie doesn't want to be a soldier but he doesn't want to be a liar either. I mean it seems like killing yourself in order to avoid getting killed. Anyhow I didn't mention this. He was supposed to report for induction on Thursday and on Wednesday Dads went to the savings bank and took out three thousand. It was all we had. He gave Charlie five hundred in cash and the rest in a certified check. We never once discussed his plans. After supper he went upstairs and packed a suitcase and came down and Dads drove him to the station. They didn't say anything, they didn't even say goodbye. Dads said he didn't dare say goodbye because he would start crying. I suppose he's in Canada or Sweden but we haven't heard from him. Well a day later a man came to Dads's office- a man from the government-and said that he knew Dads had taken three thousand out of the bank in order to enable his son to emigrate. Dads and I thought our bank accounts were private but evidently not. He said that he wanted to see Dads at home so Dads took an early train today and the man drove over-the government man-from the county seat where his office is. He first accused Dads of assisting a draft evader and then he said he was going to make it short and sweet and he took a cigarette out of his pocket and put it on the table and said that Dads was under arrest for the possession of dangerous drugs. The cigarette was a marijuana but it was the first one Dads had ever seen. The man explained that he was after draft evaders because he had spent a year and a half in a POW camp in Germany, eating rats and mice. He wanted the younger generation to learn what it was all about. So then Dads called the lawyer here-Harry Marchand-and they all drove over to the county seat and Dads was arrested for the possession of drugs and put into jail. They set the bail at two thousand and because this is the end of the month we simply don't have it so I'm going from house to house trying to raise it."
"I think I have two hundred upstairs," says Nail-les, "if that would help."
"Oh it would help."
In the dark bedroom Nellie asks who is downstairs. "It's Grace Harvey," Nailles says. "I'll tell you about it later." When he opens the wall safe and takes out the money she asks: "Is the swami finished? Are you paying him?"
"No," Nailles says. "I'll tell you about it later."
"Would you like me to write a receipt," Grace asks.
"No. Of course not."
"I've done the mutual fund for five years," she says, "but I never thought I'd be going from door to door collecting bail for Dads."
By now Tony's room smells strongly of sandal-wood. "Ever since my experience in the station," says the swami, "I have believed in prayer. As I am not a member of any organized religion you might well ask to whom it is that I pray and I would not be able to answer you. I believe in prayer as a force and not as a conversation with God and when my prayers are answered, as they sometimes are, I honestly do not know where to direct my expressions of gratitude. I have cured several cases of arthritis but my methods don't always work. I pray they will work for you.
Your mother has informed me that you were an athlete and played football. I would like you to think of me as a spiritual cheerleader. Cheers don't make touchdowns, do they, but they sometimes help. I have all kinds of cheers. I have love cheers and compassionate cheers and hopeful cheers and then I have the cheers of place. In the place cheers I just think of someplace where I would like to be and then I keep repeating to myself a description of the place. For instance, in a place cheer I'll say that I'm in a house by the sea. Then I pick the time of day and the weather I like. I'll say that I'm in a house by the sea at four in the afternoon and it's raining. Then I'll say that I'm sitting in a kind of chair, a ladderback chair, and I have a book in my lap. Then I'll say that I have a girl I love who has gone on an errand but who will return. I say this all over and over again. I say that I'm in a house by the sea at four in the afternoon and it's raining and I'm sitting in a ladderback chair with a book in my lap and I'm waiting for a girl I love who has gone on an errand but who will return. There are all kinds of place cheers. If you have a special city you like-I like Baltimore-then you pick the time of day and the weather and the circumstances and you repeat all of this. Now will you do what I say?"
"Yes," says Tony, "I'll do anything."
"I want you to repeat after me whatever I say."
"Sure," says Tony.
"I am in a house by the sea."
"I am in a house by the sea."
"It is four o'clock and raining."
"It is four o'clock and raining."
"I am sitting in a ladderback chair with a book in my lap."
"I am sitting in a ladderback chair with a book in my lap."
"I have a girl I love who has gone on an errand but who will return."
"I have a girl I love who has gone on an errand but who will return."
"I am sitting under an apple tree in clean clothes. I am content."
"I am sitting under an apple tree in clean clothes. I am content."
"That was very good," the swami says. "Now let's try the love cheer. Repeat Love a hundred times. You don't really have to count. Just say Love, Love, Love until you get tired of saying it. We'll do it together."
"Love, Love, Love, Love, Love…"
"That was fine," the swami says. "That was very good. I could tell that you meant it. Let's see if you can sit up."
"It's crazy," Tony says, "I know it's crazy but I do feel much better. I'd like to try another prayer."
When Nailles hears them chanting HOPE, HOPE, HOPE, he has another whiskey. Was he a voodoo priest? Would he put a spell over Tony? Since Nailles claimed not to believe in magic why should magic have the power to frighten him? Out of the window he can see his lawns in the starlight, HOPE, HOPE, HOPE, HOPE. Their voices sound like drums. His lawns and the incantations came from different kingdoms. Nothing made any sense.
"Now try and sit up," the swami tells Tony. "Sit up and see if you can put your feet on the floor?"
Tony stands. He has lost all weight and muscle. His ribcage shows. His buttocks are wasted and there are red sores on his back.
"Take a few steps," the swami says. "Not many. Just two or three."
Tony does. Then he begins to laugh. "Oh I feel like myself," he says. "I feel like myself again. I'm weak of course but I'm not sad any more. That terrible feeling has gone."