Nobody Bats a Thousand (42 page)

“Only a couple of hundred times.”

“Playing pool, playing pool and playing the horses, two things I always loved to do, but I never got a chance to do as often as I wanted
. And I was pretty good at both.”
A
nother weak smile.
“To
o
bad you can’t make a living shooting pool or betting on the nags.”

A tense half-minute of silence passed.

“Yeah, that’s
too
bad. So, how do you feel?” John asked.

No answer. His old man had already fallen back to sleep. John waited apprehensively until he saw another breath. Looking at his dad made him feel helpless and hollow, a hollow carcass,
a
drunken shell. He
squinted
his eyes, tightened his jaw and tried to force himself to cry. The tears still would not come.

He got up and began to leave but paused in the arch of the doorway. One more time, for a full minute, he stared at the old man lying still and peaceful, the slow breaths moving in and out. Then using the wall switch next to him, John turned off the small lamp, and the room went black, as black as a sunken cave on a moonless night.

The End

DONE

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