our office—
Yeah, all of them laughing. You
think because I dont ride the subway, I dont work? Look, I bet I work harder playing the horses than you do at your job. They all laughed again.
Yeah, I bet you do.
Speaking of jobs, how come you took a day off? Aint you afraid your job will disappear?
Harry smiled at their laughter. I thought I/d live dangerously.
Well, I always said, you hang around Caseys long enough and youll see a miracle, and Im seeing one. Harry taking a day off from work and sitting in Caseys. This calls for a toast. Tony raised his glass, then Al raised his. To Harry the Hump, and they drained their glasses, then put them down on the bar as Harry smiled, trying to stay involved in their game to keep from going back inside himself.
Hey Pat, give us three more.
Hey, man, why dont you come to the Fort with us tonight? There should be some good fights.
Yeah, the main events got a couple of welters that look pretty good.
Yeah? shrugging, maybe I will.
Harry drifted through the day, sipping on his beer, staying with his third one for an hour, Al and Tony trying to get him to keep up with them. Harry listened, smiled, laughed, talked, not completely involved with any of it, but not involved with that twinge inside either.
He went to the fights with them, and a couple of other
(73)
guys, after stopping in an Italian restaurant, and could feel himself relaxing slightly as they sat in the outdoor arena. It was a clear night and there was a pleasant breeze from the harbor and he got caught up in the horsing around of the guys, and then the action of the rights. Most of the prelims were pretty good bouts, one was really good, a knock-down, drag-out kind of fight, but the main event was a real winner and Harry got completely caught up in the excitement and was standing along with everyone else and yelling and cheering.
After the fights, they all went back to Caseys, but after a short time Harry waved goodbye and went home. He lay in his bed thinking about the day, then yesterday and the past weeks and months, and suddenly a cold knot twisted in his gut and he involuntarily raised his knees to relieve the pressure, and when the knot finally started dissolving, he no longer reviewed the day or any other part of his life, but closed his eyes and, with the aid of the beer he had drunk, drifted off into a shallow sleep.
If, indeed, such restlessness could be called sleep. He was not twisted, turned and tormented during the night, but was part of a continuing dream—maybe it only occurred once and he dreamed that it happened over and over again—that did not drag him from unconsciousness, but kept him just on the brink of wakefulness so that his mind and spirit never got the complete rest they needed. It was such a simple dream that it almost did not seem worth dreaming. A dream that is going to keep you from getting the proper rest should at least be a little, spectacular, or loaded with sexual symbols.
Certainly not as simple as driving along the street in a normal flow of traffic and seeing the brake lights go on on the car in front of you and you lift your foot from the accelerator and it gets caught under the brake pedal and you get closer and closer to the car in front of you as you struggle to get your foot out from under the pedal so you can jam down on it and not hit the car in front, and, of course, everything is happening in slow motion and it seems like you go
(74)
through this time after time and you never hit the car in front of you, but you never find out exactly what happens either. . ..
Harry did not remember
the dream in the morning, though he had a vague idea that he had dreamed something, but he felt sluggish and more or less dragged himself through his shower and shave. His step, as he went down the stairs to the kitchen, was slow and flat.
As was
his voice. He could hear it when he said good morning to his folks.
Are
Yeah, all of them laughing. You
think because I dont ride the subway, I dont work? Look, I bet I work harder playing the horses than you do at your job. They all laughed again.
Yeah, I bet you do.
Speaking of jobs, how come you took a day off? Aint you afraid your job will disappear?
Harry smiled at their laughter. I thought I/d live dangerously.
Well, I always said, you hang around Caseys long enough and youll see a miracle, and Im seeing one. Harry taking a day off from work and sitting in Caseys. This calls for a toast. Tony raised his glass, then Al raised his. To Harry the Hump, and they drained their glasses, then put them down on the bar as Harry smiled, trying to stay involved in their game to keep from going back inside himself.
Hey Pat, give us three more.
Hey, man, why dont you come to the Fort with us tonight? There should be some good fights.
Yeah, the main events got a couple of welters that look pretty good.
Yeah? shrugging, maybe I will.
Harry drifted through the day, sipping on his beer, staying with his third one for an hour, Al and Tony trying to get him to keep up with them. Harry listened, smiled, laughed, talked, not completely involved with any of it, but not involved with that twinge inside either.
He went to the fights with them, and a couple of other
(73)
guys, after stopping in an Italian restaurant, and could feel himself relaxing slightly as they sat in the outdoor arena. It was a clear night and there was a pleasant breeze from the harbor and he got caught up in the horsing around of the guys, and then the action of the rights. Most of the prelims were pretty good bouts, one was really good, a knock-down, drag-out kind of fight, but the main event was a real winner and Harry got completely caught up in the excitement and was standing along with everyone else and yelling and cheering.
After the fights, they all went back to Caseys, but after a short time Harry waved goodbye and went home. He lay in his bed thinking about the day, then yesterday and the past weeks and months, and suddenly a cold knot twisted in his gut and he involuntarily raised his knees to relieve the pressure, and when the knot finally started dissolving, he no longer reviewed the day or any other part of his life, but closed his eyes and, with the aid of the beer he had drunk, drifted off into a shallow sleep.
If, indeed, such restlessness could be called sleep. He was not twisted, turned and tormented during the night, but was part of a continuing dream—maybe it only occurred once and he dreamed that it happened over and over again—that did not drag him from unconsciousness, but kept him just on the brink of wakefulness so that his mind and spirit never got the complete rest they needed. It was such a simple dream that it almost did not seem worth dreaming. A dream that is going to keep you from getting the proper rest should at least be a little, spectacular, or loaded with sexual symbols.
Certainly not as simple as driving along the street in a normal flow of traffic and seeing the brake lights go on on the car in front of you and you lift your foot from the accelerator and it gets caught under the brake pedal and you get closer and closer to the car in front of you as you struggle to get your foot out from under the pedal so you can jam down on it and not hit the car in front, and, of course, everything is happening in slow motion and it seems like you go
(74)
through this time after time and you never hit the car in front of you, but you never find out exactly what happens either. . ..
Harry did not remember
the dream in the morning, though he had a vague idea that he had dreamed something, but he felt sluggish and more or less dragged himself through his shower and shave. His step, as he went down the stairs to the kitchen, was slow and flat.
As was
his voice. He could hear it when he said good morning to his folks.
Are
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