“just help this bum out of here, you can handle that?”
“i can handle it,” johnny answered.
estelle went down to the other end of the bar, past reilly without speaking to him, and disappeared.
johnny drank more of the hot sludgey coffee. he decided to take his time drinking it before helping reilly off his stool and going back out into the cold and snow, unless estelle or somebody else came and hustled him along.
he was hungry. he looked on the bar for some peanuts or something to eat, but there was nothing. estelle must have put them away.
johnny considered.
he had remembered estelle. he had remembered reilly.
and packy had been real. even though packy wouldn’t give him his money, packy really existed.
he wasn’t just a figure of johnny’s imagination like doctor winthrop back in the booby hatch tried to tell him.
so he wasn’t completely crazy.
he was making progress.
all he needed was to get some money - the money packy owed him or some other money - and get out of town.
to go far far away - to the south sea islands or oregon or madagascar or someplace where nobody knew him and he could start over.
out of the corner of his eye he saw estelle reappear with a coat and hat on. he took one more sip of the hot coffee and put the mug on the counter even though there was a little left in it and got up.
reilly looked up at johnny with sad eyes.
but johnny had seen a lot of sad eyes in his time, and he grabbed reilly by his heavy patched overcoat and tried to haul him off his stool.
he was heavy.
“no need to get violent, young man, no need to get violent. i know it’s closing time as well as you do. i can see estelle standing there, staring at me like a basilisk. i can’t get up if i turn to stone, can i, estelle?”
estelle, standing in the shadows by the foot door, did not answer.
when johnny tugged at reilly’s elbow again, the old man got up and headed for the door so quickly johnny had to run to keep up with him.
johnny found himself out in the street again, in the cold and snow, hanging on to reilly’s overcoat.
“where were we?” he asked reilly. he wondered if reilly had any money on him, even just a few cents.
“who’s we?” reilly answered.
“do you remember me?” johnny asked.
reilly shook johnny’s hand off his arm. “what? you mean from two minutes ago?”
“no, from six years ago.”
“six years ago? ha, ha!”
“yeah, from before the war.”
“war? what war? there hasn’t been a war for - i don’t know - twenty years, sixty years. and i don’r remember what happened six minutes ago.” and reilly looked down the street, giving johnny the classic signal for go away see you later.
the snow continued to fall.
“you have to help me,” johnny said.
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