A Lost King: A Novel (15 page)

“Good work,” said Theodore. “Now's the time to laugh, Marko.”

One of the policemen scooped the remaining poker money into a pile. He took a paper bag off the counter and put the money in it. Afterward he leaned back against the wall. He was watching us in a vaguely troubled way as though we were in a car going out of control in the distance. Small dark eyes were packed like seeds into his craggy head. The handle of his gun swelled in a single fat curve out of his holster. The other policeman was leaning on the counter. He rested his head on his hand and gazed at Theodore as at some strange rare animal.

“Good evening, Mr. Ampazis,” he said, in a lilting voice.

“What's the meaning of this, Nick?” said Theodore. “I just came in here to make a phone call.”

“Is that a fact?” said Nick, gravely, turning to the other men.

“Do you want the fact?” said Theodore. “I was calling you boys. I was going to report these men. They're gambling. Now I don't allow gambling here. These men are breaking the law. I hate to do it. Take them away, Nick.”

“What's the delay, Theodore?” said Regas. “Give Nick the ten dollars you put aside for him and let's get on with the game.”

“Did Mr. Ampazis say I'd take a ten-dollar bribe?” said Nick.

“If you couldn't get twenty,” said Regas.

“There you are, Joe,” said Nick, to his companion. “Two Greeks and you got a civil war…. Wait a minute. Do I smell whiskey? Are you bootlegging again, Mr. Ampazis?”

“Let's have another drink and go home.” said Poulos.

“You don't even know your way home,” said Nick. “Didn't I see you in a coffee house on Bolivar the other night?”

“I haven't been downtown in a month,” said Poulos.

“You're going down tonight,” said Nick. “Call the wagon, Joe.”

The other policeman went out.

“I told you about this,” said Nick. “I told you to keep the money off the table. You never learn.”

“The boy wasn't playing,” said Theodore.

“He shouldn't be here,” said Nick. “What's your name?”

“Paul Christopher, sir.”

“Where do you live?”

“Well, I'm living here for the time being.”

“Are you one of these smart guys?”

“It's the truth,” said Theodore. “He'll be staying with me a few nights.”

“A night in the tank'll teach him a lesson,” said Nick.

Presently the black and white police wagon pulled up in front of the coffee house. Marko stood up. He gestured to let Theodore know that an even bigger police car had arrived. We marched out. Marko watched us. He started to laugh.

“Take the clown, too,” said Nick. “He was spotting.”

The other policeman took Marko by the arm. Marko was laughing harder. He almost fell backward as he climbed into the police wagon. He was doubled up with laughter as the wagon took us away.

Down at the police station they took Theodore aside and put the rest of us into an iron room lined with open dark cells. Those Greeks came apart and went off to find private places.

I sat alone in my cell. Nearby Marko was laughing softly. A sharp disinfectant was burning in the still air and yet it failed to overcome thick sour smells of sweat and whiskey and old clothes. Iron doors were closing and closing in the night. Each door seemed to close more exactly. I heard the casual clink of keys and then a door opened lightly to close in some high hidden corner of that building. There was the liquid shuffle of shoe leather down some corridor. A moment of silence followed. Keys were clinking. A door opened to close.

I was thinking of my father when they brought Theodore back.

“You can go, Paul,” he said. “Here's the key to the place.”

“What about you? And the others?”

“We'll be out on bond in a couple of hours. I called my lawyer. Don't worry. They'll fine us a few dollars and that's the end of it. Good night, Paul.”

A policeman let me out with a warning to be careful in the future. I went down the stairs and out into the night. I walked from Payne Avenue across to Euclid Avenue. I was walking toward the Public Square. I was walking faster and faster. I started to run. I ran all the way to the Terminal Tower. I went down into the train station and called my father. The telephone was ringing and ringing.

“Hello!” he cried, howling a little.

I thought my heart would burst with love for him.

“Hello, hello!” he said.

“Hello, Pa!” I said, breathlessly.

“What is it? What happened?”

“I'm free, Pa!”

“Free?”

“They let me go!”

“Who let you go? What happened?”

“I was in jail, Pa!”

“Jail?”

“I was watching a poker game. In the coffee house. The police came. They called the wagon. They took us down and put us in the tank. Theodore's still there. With Regas and Poulos. And the others. Marko's there. They let me go.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Do you know what time it is?” he said.

“No, Pa.”

“It's after one!”

“Is it? Is it that late? Are you all right? Is everything all right over there? I was thinking about you and so I thought I'd better call. Do you need anything special tomorrow?”

There was silence.

“By the way, Pa, did you put that cake in the refrigerator? It'll spoil if you leave it out. There's custard in the middle.”

He hung up.

Early every morning I stopped at Lemko's Bakery to buy a cinnamon or poppy-seed roll for my father. I went over to have breakfast with him before going out on the watermelon wagon. He sat there puffing his pipe and listening to my foolish words. I felt like a child come to play before him with new toys. Sometimes he rested his head on his hand and gazed at me across the table. Never had he looked at me like that. I talked and talked to hold his eyes on me. I was bubbling over with new hopes and plans.

One morning I was thinking about buying a car in the spring and taking him on a trip into every corner of America. We would spend a year on the road. We would follow the sun from sea to sea. He was listening and watching me. Presently he was looking over my shoulder at some crack in the kitchen wall. In the end he was looking into the light of morning.

During the day I called him on the telephone from different parts of the city. Often he picked up the receiver and said nothing. To stir anger in him I said nothing. We waited and waited. I began to breathe harder. He hung up. I called right back. He picked up the receiver and waited. The pride in him filled my heart with delight.

“Well, sir, I don't agree with you,” I said. “But you've got a right to think what you please. How's everything at the house?”

“How was it a couple of hours ago?”

“Things are developing. The plaster's falling at a steady rate. I saw encouraging signs on the floor in the bathroom. And then there's that crack in my bedroom ceiling. It's working all the way across into the corner. It's like a lightning bolt hit. It's kind of exciting to go in that room. By the way, Pa, what do you want for supper? Have you got a craving for something? I'm near a Big Deal store and I'll bring anything you want.”

“There's nothing.”

“Sam and I saw Father Murphy this morning. We gave him a watermelon. Guess what he said? He said watermelon was like a big answer to a big question. He said big questions call for big answers. And then he asked me a couple of pretty big questions. He asked why he never sees me in church. And then he was asking about you.”

“Tell him I was asking about him.”

“All right.”

“Tell him I was asking about church.”

“All right.”

“Tell him I was asking about God.”

After work I stopped at the house to make supper for him. He ate whatever I put in front of him. Later he walked over to Lincoln Park where he sat on a bench and puffed his pipe. The children played around him. They tumbled in the grass and chased each other under the dying leaves of the maples and sycamores. The light of day faded. At last the children went away and the park was quiet. My father walked home. He took a bath and rinsed out his underclothes. For hours then he sat sipping wine and smoking his pipe on the porch.

I called to tell Nina about him. She promised to come and spend a few days with him as soon as she had the chance.

“And there's something else,” I told her. “I've been thinking. I think it's about time you had a baby, Nina.”

“Do you?”

“I really do. You could call him Carl and bring him over here on the weekends. It would be a good thing for us.”

“Would it?”

“Of course it would. What's the matter with you? Just think of it. He's got a grandfather and an uncle waiting for him. I'll tell you what. I'll start putting some money aside for him. I'll help you with the bills and all. How's that?”

“Do you have any idea what you're talking about?”

“You don't understand. You don't understand how Pa feels about things. Listen a minute. He's pretty sure there's no hope for me. And no hope for you. And no hope for Andy. But how could he be sure about a baby? Let me talk to Andy. I'll explain it to him.”

She hung up.

Saturday noon I left Sam Ross and went over to clean the house. I mopped the floors and dusted the furniture and washed the towels and sheets. I took the curtains across the street to Sophie Nowak. She washed and ironed them and then she came over to hang them for us. My father stayed in the bathroom while she was in the house.

“It's safe to come out, Carl,” she said. “I'm leaving now.”

I took a bus to the market on West Twenty-fifth Street. I bought round steak and lamb chops and mustard greens. I bought small baskets of plum tomatoes and hot green finger peppers. I bought walnuts and figs and a gallon of red wine. I filled two shopping bags.

The next two buses were crowded and so I let them pass. I waited awhile and then found myself walking across the Abbey Bridge. Halfway across the bridge my hands and arms began to ache. I put the bags down. There were red furrows in my palms from the handles of those bags. I saw the nuts and wine and peppers. I lifted the bags and started off again. At the end of the Abbey Bridge I put them down. I sat on the grass under the ramp of the new innerbelt freeway bridge. I was aching all over and yet the pain of it was so good that I laughed. I carried those bags home.

I broiled the lamb chops with parsley and garlic. I boiled the mustard greens and then put olive oil and lemon juice on them. I cut the tomatoes into olive oil seasoned with origan and garlic and dried hot pepper. After supper we sat on the porch.

It was harder than ever to get my father talking. He nodded and mumbled in reply to me. My words were like pennies falling into a long black well. I played the harmonica when I could think of nothing more to say. He enjoyed the music. He sat there puffing his pipe and listening with his eyes closed. I played well. I climbed and climbed with words only to reach the place where songs begin.

One night while strolling in Lincoln Park I realized that his birthday was coming. I decided to have a party for him. Excited, I went over to tell Theodore about it.

“I know he wants me in the house.” I said. “I can feel it. But he's stubborn, Theodore. He won't even talk about it. And he's been different since I left. The only time he eats is when I'm there. He doesn't listen to the radio and he doesn't even read the newspapers. This party might be just the thing to bring us together again. Winter is coming and everything.”

In the following two weeks I saved most of my pay. I bought beer and wine and whiskey. Two days before the party I bought ham and salami and hot sausage. I stored everything in the soft-drink cooler in the coffee house. After that I went downtown to buy a television set.

A salesman showed me a polished box with a twenty-one-inch screen. I walked around it. He turned it on for me. Girls were dancing in candy-cane tights. Their legs were like whipped cream. I watched them. The salesman changed the station. Cowboys on horseback came down on us in a thundering smoke. I watched them. The salesman changed the station. A beautiful young lady was telling a young man that she was no longer in love with him. She went on to say that she doubted whether she had ever really loved him in the first place. I watched her. The salesman changed the station. Those dancing girls were getting reckless. The salesman turned the set off. Quick he turned it on again. Those girls were flinging their legs and arms in every direction. Off went the set. I turned to that wizard of a salesman. His hand was on the knob of the set. I watched him and waited. He was giving me a cool masterful look.

“I think you've had as much as you can stand,” he said, smiling.

“I'll take the set,” I said. “I'll put fifty dollars down.”

“Do you have a steady job?” he said. “Will you be able to pay the two-hundred-dollar balance?”

“I've got a job. I sell watermelons in the summer.”

“Is that so? What about this winter?”

“Well, I'll work in the market selling fruit and vegetables.”

“All right. When would you like to have it?”

“Saturday morning. I'd like to have it delivered to a coffee house. I'll give you the address.”

“Saturday morning then. Do you know what that means?”

“No, sir.”

“Saturday night the girls dance just for you.”

I went back to the South Side. I spread word that my father was going to be sixty-six years old on Saturday and that I was giving a surprise party to celebrate it. The neighbors promised to come. I called Nina from the coffee house and told her about it. Last of all I sat down to write a letter to my father.

Right after work on the day of the party I warned my father that the neighbors were coming to eat and drink and celebrate his birthday. He surprised me by saying nothing. He took a bath and shaved. He was dressed and waiting by the time I brought the last of the refreshments from the coffee house.

He was sitting at the kitchen table. I glanced at him and then I looked again. His eyes were clear and steady above the swoop of his nose. The bones in his face bulged white to give him that wild starved look. His mouth was trembling a little as though with the singing rush of strength inside him. He wore his shiny blue serge suit and a white shirt that had gone yellow at the collar tips and cuffs. He wore a black knit tie. He looked at me and then down at his scuffed shoes.

“I'll shine them for you,” I said.

I brought the polish and brush. Kneeling, I started to shine his shoes. It was good to kneel before him. I put my hand around the back of his thin ankle while brushing each shoe. The strength in him seemed to leap through me and yet there was an ache in my heart reminding me of the absence of that strength in recent days.

I went across the street to call Sophie Nowak. She came back with me to help prepare the food. We sliced ham and salami and then we fried the hot sausage. We set the table with dishes of pickles and olives and tomatoes and hot peppers. In the center of the table was the big sponge cake baked by Lemko. There were six white candles across the top and six across the bottom.

The first guest to arrive was Lefty Riley. He was wearing a brown cap with a chunk missing from the peak. Bowing, he swept that cap off as though he had brought it for that purpose. He glanced at the loaded table and then shyly looked away. I introduced him to my father. They sat and talked like old friends. Presently the neighbors were coming in to fill the house with talk and laughter. They drank toasts to my father. They lingered to talk with him about baseball and politics and the economic recession. He seemed to be drinking in every word spoken to him. Now and again a strange sweet smile would light his face. So warm and alert was he that the neighbors began to interrupt each other in their eagerness to tell him things. At one point Rakowski was saying that he had disowned his daughter while Florio was shouting that life had no meaning and that God was a great comedian.

“We haven't got a chance here!” said Florio. “Not a chance!”

I went over to the coffee house to get the television set. Poulos helped me lift it into his painting truck. Theodore told Marko to watch the coffee house. He brought a tray of
baclava
and rode back to the house with Poulos and me. There were cries of delight as we struggled through the door with that television set. We staggered through the kitchen and set it down in the middle of the living room. Everyone milled around it. My father nodded to me.

“It's beautiful,” said Sophie. “Paul is such a good boy.”

“It's about time you had one of these,” said Kroger.

“You'll see what's going on,” said Florio. “And then you'll say to hell with it.”

“This calls for a drink,” said Rakowski.

“With a beer chaser,” said Lefty.

There was a movement to the table for food and drink. Glasses of beer and whiskey were lifted lights of gold all through the house. The men raised their voices. No one listened and so they talked louder. There were bursts of laughter like reckless invitations from the women. A gray cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke hung from room to room like a ghostly fish dissolving against the ceilings. Sam Ross walked in. He smiled and his golden tooth flashed.

“Where's the watermelons?” said Poulos.