The Laughing Matter by William Saroyan Page B

there is someone you wish to forgive, to understand, to love, you will find the weapons for it in your heart.”
    â€œRed?” Evan said to his son. “I want you to take a little walk outside and look at the airplanes.”
    The boy looked at his father. There was still panic in his eyes, but after a moment it went away, and Evan saw that his son did indeed resemble his father.
    He slipped down off the bench—his feet hadn’t been touching the floor—then loitered off to the big glass door. He pushed it open, went out onto the steps, then down the steps, and away.
    â€œFor God’s sake, Dade,” Evan said in English quickly. “She breaks my heart. I feel sorry for her. I don’t know what to do, man. I swear to God I’m afraid I’ll kill her. You don’t have to go back, do you? Stay. Help me. Don’t go back, Dade.”
    â€œThere’s no help,” Dade said. “If you must kill, I’ve told you where the weapons are. You’d find them soon enough, anyway. Hands would be enough, though. Anything would do. We are never unarmed. No one. And we have no defense. There’s no help. Did Petrus help? Did wehelp Petrus? No one helps. No one hinders, either.” He suddenly brought a silver dollar out of his pocket. “Flip for it,” he said. “To be kind, or to be proud. That’s what it comes to. Call it.” He flipped the coin high, saying again as it went end over end, “Call it.”
    â€œHeads,” Evan said.
    The heavy coin slapped the marble floor, bounced, spun swiftly on its edge, lost momentum, and then lay down. It was tails.
    â€œBe kind,” Dade said. “Why not, boy? Why not?
You
called it. Be kind. Be kind to everybody. Be kind to yourself.”
    â€œSoft, is that it, Dade?”
    â€œWhy not?” Dade said. “Or
also
soft. Be kind. It’s right to be kind.”
    â€œI came near killing her this afternoon,” Evan said. “Red came and stopped me.”
    â€œBe kind to Red,” Dade said. “Be kind to Red’s mother. A boy loves his mother.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Dade, don’t you understand what’s happened?”
    â€œI understand,” Dade said.
    â€œNo, you don’t,” Evan said. “We were talking. I was thinking of somebody to help us. A doctor. To help
her
. Help Red. Help Eva. Help me. Help the others we believed we were going to have. I asked her if she loved him. She said she didn’t know. I would have killed her if Red hadn’t stopped me. I
wanted
to be kind. I wanted to forgive—I wanted to be soft, Dade. I wanted to hide it, and I wanted to believe I
could
forget it, and she could forget it, and Redand Eva never know anything about it. I asked her. I thought it might be an accident, out of sickness. I asked her. I was sure she would know how much she hated the accident, hated the sickness. Dade, she said she didn’t know. Stay here and help me. Stay at the hotel in Fresno. You’ve
got
to help me, Dade.”
    â€œI’ll fly down the minute I can,” Dade said. “I’ll try to help you. It may be tomorrow morning. It may be tomorrow night.”
    â€œAre you sure you’re winning?”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œHow much was that you handed me?”
    â€œI don’t know. You count it.”
    â€œI’ll keep it for you.”
    â€œNo,” Dade said. “I don’t want it, and I want you to have it. You’re in the game as much as anybody else.” He got up. “I miss the boy. I want to go out and be with him until it’s time to go back.” Evan stood beside him. “What you were talking about with her—” Dade said. “Talk about it some more. Sometimes the mouth moves by itself. Her answer may not have meant anything. Talk about
that
some more. I can help you there.”
    They walked out to the steps, and Dade saw Red standing