The Chosen

Chapter 4

My father came in a few minutes later, looking worse than he had the day before. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes were red, and his face was ashen. He coughed a grellt deal and kept telling me it was his cold. He sat down on the bed and told me he had talked to Dr Snydman on the phone. 'He will look at your eye Friday morning, and you will probably be able to come home Friday afternoon. I will come to pick you up when I am through teaching.'

'That's wonderful I' I said.

'You will not be able to read for about ten days. He told me he will know by then about the scar tissue.'

'I'll be happy to be out of this hospital,' 1 said. 'I walked around a little today and saw the people on the street outside.'

My father looked at me and didn't say anything.

'I wish I was outside now,' I said. 'I envy them being able to walk around like that. They don't know how lucky they are.'

'No one knows he is fortunate until he becomes unfortunate,' my father said quietly. 'That is the way the world is.'

'It'll be good to be home again. At least I won't have to spend a Shabbat here.'

'We'll have a nice Shabbat together,' my father said. 'A quiet Shabbat where we can talk and not be disturbed. We will sit and drink tea and talk.'. He coughed a little and put the handkerchief to his mouth. He took off his spectacles and wiped his eyes. Then he put them back on and sat on the bed, looking at me. He seemed so tired and pale, as if all his strength had been drained from him.

'I didn't tell you yet, abba. Danny Saunders came to see me today.'

My father did not seem surprised. 'Ah,' he said. 'And?'

'He's a very nice person. I like him.'

'So? All of a sudden you like him.' He was smiling. 'What did he say?'

I told him everything I could remember of my conversation with Danny Saunders. Once, as I talked, he began to cough, and I stopped and watched helplessly as his thin frame bent and shook. Then he wiped his lips and eyes, and told me to continue. He listened intently. When I told him that Danny Saunders had wanted to kill me, his eyes went wide, but he didn't interrupt. When I told him about Danny Saunders' photographic mind, he nodded as if he had known about that all along. When I described as best I could what we had said about our careers, he smiled indulgently. And when I explained why Danny Saunders had told his team that they would kill us apikorsim, he stared at me and I could see the same look of absorption come into his eyes that I had seen earlier in the eyes of Danny Saunders. Then my father nodded. 'People are not always what they seem to be,' he said softly. 'That is the way the world is, Reuven.'

'He's going to come visit me again tomorrow, abba.'

'Ah,' my father murmured. He was silent for a moment. Then he said quietly. 'Reuven, listen to me. The Talmud says that a person should do two things for himself. One is to acquire a teacher. Do you remember the other?'

'Choose a friend,' I said…

'Yes.' You know what a friend is, Reuven? A Greek philosopher said that two people who are true friends are like two bodies with one soul.'

I nodded.

'Reuven, if you can, make Danny Saunders your friend.'

'I like him a lot, abba.'

'No. Listen to me. I am not talking only about liking him. I am telling you to make him your friend and to let him make you his friend. I think -! He stopped and broke into another cough. He coughed a long time. Then he sat quietly on the bed, his hand on his chest, breathing hard. 'Make him your friend,' he said again, and cleared his throat noisily.

'Even though he's a Hasid?' I asked, smiling.

'Make him your friend.' my father repeated. 'We will see.'

'The way he acts, and talks doesn't seem to fit what he wears and the way he looks,' I said. 'It's like two different people.'

My father nodded slowly but was silent. He looked over at Billy, who was still asleep.

'How is your little neighbour?' he asked me.

'He's very nice. There's a new kind of operation they'll be doing on' his eyes. He was in an auto accident, and his mother was killed.'

My father looked at Billy and shook his head. He sighed and stood up, then bent and kissed me on the forehead.

'I will be back to see you tomorrow. Is there anything you need?'

'No, abba.'

'Are you able to use your tefillin?'

'Yes. I can't read though. I pray by heart.'

He smiled at me. 'I did not think of that. My baseball player. I will see you again tomorrow, Reuven.'

'Yes, abba.'

I watched him walk quickly up the aisle.

'That your father, kid?' I heard Mr Savo ask me.

I turned to him and nodded. He was still playing his game of cards.

'Nice-looking man. Very dignified. What's he do?'

'He teaches.'

'Yeah? Well, that's real nice, kid. My old man worked a pushcart. Down near Norfolk Street, it was. Worked like a dog. You're a lucky kid. What's he teach?'

'Talmud: I said. 'Jewish law.'

'No kidding? He in a Jewish school?'

'Yes,' I said. 'A high school.'

Mr Savo frowned at a card he had just pulled from the deck. 'Damn.' he muttered. 'No luck nowhere. Story of my life.' He, tucked the card into a row on the blanket. 'You looked kind of chummy there with your clopper, boy. You making friends with him?'

'He's a nice person: I said.

'Yeah? Well, you watch guys like that kid. You watch them real good, you hear? Anyone clops you, he's got a thing going. Old Tony knows. You watch them.'

'It was really an accident.' I said.

'Yeah?'

'I could have ducked the ball.'

Mr Savo looked at me. His face was dark with the growth of beard, and his left eye seemed a little swollen and bloodshot. The black patch that covered his right eye looked like a huge skin mole. 'Anyone out to clop you doesn't want you to duck, kid. I know.'

'It wasn't really like that, Mr Savo.'

'Sure, kid. Sure. Old Tony doesn't like fanatics, that's all.'

'I don't think he's a fanatic.'

'No? What's he go around in those clothes for?'

'They all wear those clothes. It's part of their religion.'

'Sure, kid. But listen. You're a good kid. So I'm telling you, watch out for those fanatics. They're the worst cloppers around.' He looked at a card in his hands, then threw it down. 'Lousy game. No luck.' He scooped up the cards, patted them into a deck, and put them on the night table. He lay back on his pillow. 'Long day.' he said, talking almost to himself. 'Like waiting for a big fight.' He closed his left eye.

I woke during the night and lay still a long time, trying to remember where I was. I saw the dim blue night light at the other end of the ward, and took a deep breath. I heard a movement next to me and turned my head. The curtain had been drawn around Mr Savo's bed, and I could hear people moving around. I sat up. A nurse came over to me from somewhere. 'You go right back to sleep, young man: she ordered. 'Do you hear?' She seemed angry and tense. I lay back on my bed. In a little while, I was asleep.

When I woke in the morning, the curtain was still drawn around Mr Savo's bed. I stared at it. It was light brown, and it enclosed the area of the bed completely so that not even the metal legs of the bed could be seen. I remembered Monday afternoon when I had awakened with the curtain around my bed and Mrs Carpenter bending over me, and I wondered what had happened to Mr Savo. I saw Mrs Carpenter coming quickly up the aisle, carrying a metal tray in her hands. There were instruments and bandages on the tray. I sat up and asked her what was wrong with Mr Savo. She looked at me sternly, her round, fleshy face grim. 'Mr Savo will be all right, young man. Now you just go about your own business and let Mr Savo be.' She disappeared behind the curtain. I heard a soft moan. At the other end of the ward, the radio had been turned on and the announcer was talking about the war. I didn't want to turn my radio on for fear of disturbing Mr Savo. I heard another moan, and then I couldn't stand it anymore. I got out of my bed and went to the bathroom. Then I walked around in the' hall outside the ward and stared at the people on the street. When I came back, the curtain was still drawn around Mr Savo's bed, and Billy was awake.

I sat down on my bed and saw him turn his head in my direction.

'Is that you, Bobby?' he asked me.

'Sure,' I said.

'Is something wrong with Mr Savo?' I wondered how he knew about that.

'I think so,' I told him. 'They've got the curtain around his bed, and Mrs Carpenter is in there with him.'

'No,' Billy said. 'She just went away. I was calling him, and she told me not to disturb him. Is it something very bad?'

'I don't know. I think we ought to talk a little quieter, Billy. So we don't bother him.'

'That's right,' Billy said, lowering his voice.

'Also, I think we'll stop listening to the radio today. We don't want to wake him if he's sleeping.'

Billy nodded fervently.

I got my tefillin from the night table and sat on my bed and prayed for a long time. Mostly, I prayed for Mr Savo.

I was eating breakfast when I saw Dr Snydman hurrying up the aisle with Mrs Carpenter. He didn't even notice me as he passed my bed. He was wearing a dark suit, and he wasn't smiling. He went behind the curtain around Mr Savo's bed, and Mrs Carpenter followed. I heard them talking softly, and I heard Mr Savo moan a few times. They were there quite a while. Then they came out and went back up the aisle.

I was really frightened now about Mr Savo. I found I missed him and the way he talked and played cards. After breakfast, I lay in my bed and began to think about my left eye. I remembered tomorrow was Friday and that in the morning Dr Snydman was supposed to examine it. I felt cold with fright. That whole morning and afternoon I lay in the bed and thought about my eye and became more and more frightened.

All that day the curtain remained around Mr Savo's bed. Every few minutes, a nurse would go behind the curtain, stay there for a while, then come out and walk back up the aisle. In the afternoon, the radio at the other end of the ward was turned off. I tried to fall asleep, but couldn't. I kept watching nurses go in and out of the curtain around Mr Savo's bed. By suppertime I was feeling so frightened and miserable that I could hardly eat. I nibbled at the food and sent the tray back almost untouched.

Then I saw Danny come up the aisle and stop at my bed. He was wearing the dark suit, the dark skullcap, the white shirt open at the collar, and the fringes showing below his jacket. My face must have mirrored my happiness at seeing him because he broke into a warm smile and said, 'You look like I'm the Messiah. I must have made some impression yesterday.'

I grinned at him. 'It's just good to see you,' I told him. 'How are you?'

'How are you? You're the one in the hospital.'

'I'm fed up being cooped up like this. I want to get out and go home. Say, it's really good to see you, you sonofagun!'

He laughed. 'I must be the Messiah. No mere Hasid would get a greeting like that from an apikoros.'

He stood at the foot of the bed, his hands in his trouser pockets, his face relaxed. 'When do you go home?' he asked.

I told him. Then I remembered Mr Savo lying in his bed behind the curtain. 'Listen,' I said, motioning with my head at the curtain. 'Let's talk outside in the hall. I don't want to disturb him.'

I got out of bed, put on my bathrobe, and we walked together out of the ward. We sat down on a bench in the hallway next to a window. The hallway was long and wide. Nurses, doctors, patients, orderlies, and visitors went in and out of the wards. It was still light outside. Danny put his hands in his pockets and stared out the window. 'I was born in this hospital,' he said quietly. 'The day before yesterday was the first time I'd been in it since I was born.'

'I was born here, too,' I said. 'It never occurred to me.'

'I thought of it yesterday in the elevator coming up.'

'I was back here to have my tonsils out, though. Didn't you ever have your tonsils out?'

'No. They never bothered me.' He sat there with his hands in his pockets, staring out the window. 'Look at that. Look at all those people. They look like ants. Sometimes I get the feeling that's all we are – ants. Do you ever feel that way?'

His voice was quiet, and there was an edge of sadness to it.

'Sometimes,' I said.

'I told it to my father once.'

'What did he say?'

'He didn't say anything. I told you, he never talks to me except when we study. But a few days later, while we were studying, he said that man was created by God, and Jews had a mission in life.'

'What mission is that?'

'To obey God.'

'Don't you believe that?'

He looked slowly away from the window. I saw his deep blue eyes stare at me, then blink a few times. 'Sure I believe it,' he said quietly. His shoulders were bowed. 'Sometimes I'm not sure I know what God wants, though.'

'That's a funny thing for you to say.'

'Isn't it?' he said. He looked at me but didn't seem to be seeing me at all. 'I've never said that to anyone before: He seemed to be in a strange, brooding mood. I was beginning to feel uneasy. 'I read a lot,' he said. 'I read about seven or eight books a week outside of my schoolwork. Have you ever read Darwin or Huxley?'

'I've read a little of Darwin,' I said.

'I read in the library so my father won't know. He's very strict about what I read.'

'You read books about evolution and things like that?'

'I read anything good that I can get my hands on. I'm reading Hemingway now. You've heard of Hemingway.'

'Sure.'

'Have you read any of his works?'

'I read some of his short stories.'

'I finished A Farewell to Arms last week. He's a great writer. It's about the First World War. There's this American in the Italian Army. He marries an English nurse. Only he doesn't really marry her. They live together, and she becomes pregnant, and he deserts. They run away to Switzerland, and she dies in childbirth.'

'I didn't read it.'

'He's a great writer. But you wonder about a lot of things when you read him. He's got a passage in the book about ants on a burning log. The hero, this American, is watching the ants, and instead of taking the log out of the fire and saving the ants, he throws water into the fire. The water turns into steam and that roasts some of the ants, the others just burn to death on the log or fall off into the fire. It's a great passage. It shows how cruel people can be.'

All the time he talked he kept staring out the window. I almost had the feeling he wasn't talking so much to me as to himself.

'I just get so tired of studying only Talmud all the time. I know the stuff cold, and it gets a little boring after a while. So I read whatever I can get my hands on. But I only read what the librarian says is worthwhile. I met a man there, and he keeps suggesting hooks for me to read. That librarian is funny. She's a nice person, but she keeps staring at me all the time. She's probably wondering what a person like me is doing reading all those books.'

'Im wondering a little myself,' I said.

'I told you. I get bored studying just Talmud. And the English work in school isn't too exciting. I think the English teachers are afraid of my father. They're afraid they'll lose their jobs if they say something too exciting or challenging. I don't know. But it's exciting being able to read all those books.' He began to play with the earlock on the right side of his face. He rubbed it gently with his right hand, twirled it around his forefinger, released it, then twirled it around the finger again. 'I've never told this to anyone before,' he said. 'All the time I kept wondering who I would tell it to one day: He was staring down at the floor. Then he looked at me and smiled. It was a sad smile, but it seemed to break the mood he was in. 'If you'd've ducked that ball I would still be wondering,' he said, and put his hands back into his pockets.

I didn't say anything. I was still a little overwhelmed by what he had told me. I couldn't get over the fact that this was Danny Saunders, the son of Reb Saunders, the tzaddik.

'Can I be honest with you?' I asked him.

'Sure,' he said.

'I'm all mixed up about you. I'm not trying to be funny or anything. I really am mixed up about you. You look like a Hasid, but you don't sound like one. You don't sound like what my father says Jasidim are supposed to sound like. You sound almost as if you don't believe in God.'

He looked at me but didn't respond.

'Are you really going to become a rabbi and take your father's place?'

'Yes,' he said quietly.

'How can you do that if you don't believe in God?'

'I believe in God. I never said I didn't believe in God.'

'You don't sound like a Hasid, though,' I told him.

'What do I sound like?'

'Like a – an apikoros: He smiled but said nothing. It was a sad smile, and his blue eyes seemed sad, too. He looked back out the window, and we sat in silence a long time. It was a warm silence, though, not in the least bit awkward. Finally, he said very quietly, 'I have to take my father's place. I have no choice. It's an inherited position. I'll work it out – somehow. It won't be that bad, being a rabbi. Once I'm a rabbi my people won't care what I read. I'll be sort of like God to them. They won't ask any questions: 'Are you going to like being a rabbi?'

'No,' he said.

'How can you spend your life doing what you don't like?'

'I have no choice,' he said again. 'It's like a dynasty. If the son doesn't take the father's place, the dynasty falls apart. The people expect me to become their rabbi. My family has been their rabbi for six generations now. I can't just walk out on them. I'm – I'm a little trapped. I'll work it out, though – somehow.' But he didn't sound as if he thought he would be able to work it out. He sounded very sad.

We sat quietly a while longer, looking out the window at the people below. There were only a few minutes of sunlight left, and I found myself wondering why my father hadn't yet come to see me. Danny turned away from the window and began to play with his earlock again, caressing it and twirling it around his index finger. Then he shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. He sat back on the bench and looked at me. 'It's funny,' he said. 'It's really funny. I have to be a rabbi and don't want to be one. You don't have to be a rabbi and do want to be one. It's a crazy world.'

I didn't say anything. I had a sudden vivid picture of Mr Savo sitting in his bed, saying, 'Crazy world. Cockeyed.' I wondered how he was feeling and· if the curtain was still around his bed. 'What kind of mathematics are you interested in?' Danny asked…

'I'm really interested in logic. Mathematical logic.'

He looked puzzled.

'Some people call it symbolic logic,' I said.

'I never even heard of it,' he confessed.

'It's really very new. A lot of it began with Russell and Whitehead and a book they wrote called Principia Mathematica.'

'Bertrand Russell?'

'That's right.'

'I didn't know he was a mathematician.'

'Oh, sure. He's a great mathematician. And a logician, too.'

'I'm very bad at mathematics. What's it all about? Mathematical logic, I mean.'

'Well, they try to deduce all of mathematics from simple logical principles and show that mathematics is really based on logic. It's pretty complicated stuff. But I enjoy it.'

'You have a course in that in your schoo!?'

'No. You're not the only person who reads a lot.'

For a moment he looked at me in astonishment. Then he laughed.

'I don't read seven or eight books a week, though, like you,' I said. 'Only about three or four.'

He laughed again. Then he got to his feet and stood facing me.

His eyes were bright and alive with excitement.

'I never even heard of symbolic logic,' he said. 'It sounds fascinating. And you want to be a rabbi? How do they do it? I mean, how can you deduce arithmetic from logic? I don't see -! He stopped and looked at me. 'What's the matter?' he asked.

'There's my father,' I said, and got quickly to my feet.

My father had come out of the elevator at the other end of the hall and was walking toward the eye ward. I thought I would have to call out to attract his attention, but a few steps short of the entrance to the ward he saw us. If he felt any surprise at seeing me with Danny I didn't notice it. His face did not change radically. It went from curiosity to bewildered astonishment. He looked for a moment as though he wanted to run away. I could see he was nervous and agitated, but I didn't have time to think about it, because my father was standing there, looking at the two of us. He was wearing his dark gray, double-breasted suit and his gray hat. He was a good deal shorter than Danny and a little shorter than I, and his face still looked pale and worn. He seemed out of breath, and he was carrying a handkerchief in his right hand.

'I am late,' he said. 'I was afraid they would not let me in.' His voice was hoarse and raspy. 'There was a faculty meeting. How are you, Reuven?'

'I'm fine, abba.'

'Should you be out here in the hall now?'

'It's all right, abba. The man next to me became sick suddenly, and we didn't want to disturb him. Abba, I want you to meet Danny Saunders.'

I could see a faint smile begin to play around the comers of my father's lips. He nodded at Danny.

'This is my father, Danny.'

Danny didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring at my father. I saw my father watching him from behind his steel· rimmed spectacles, the smile playing around the corners of his lips.

'I didn! t -' Danny began, then stopped.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Danny and my father stood looking at each other and I stared at the two of them and nothing was said.

It was my father who finally broke the silence. He did it gently and with quiet warmth. He said, 'I see you play ball as well as you read books, Danny. I hope you are not as violent with a book as you are with a baseball: Now it was my turn to be astonished. 'You know Danny?'

'In a way,' my father said, smiling broadly.

'I – I had no idea,' Danny stammered.

'And how could you have?' My father asked. 'I never told you my name: 'You knew me all the time?'

'Only after the second week. I asked the librarian. You applied for membership once, but did not take out a card.'

'I was afraid to.'

'I understood as much,' my father said.

I suddenly realized it was my father who all along had been suggesting books for Danny to read. My father was the man Danny had been meeting in the library!

'But you never told me!' I said loudly.

My father looked at me. 'What did I never tell you?'

'You never told me you met Danny in the library! You never told me you were giving him books to read!'

My father looked from me to Danny, then back to me. 'Ah,' he said, smiling. 'I see you know about Danny and the library: 'I told him,' Danny said. He had begun to relax a bit, and the look of surprise was gone from his face now.

'And why should I tell you?' my father asked. 'A boy asks me for books to read. What is there to tell?'

'But all this week, even after the accident, you never said a word!'

'I did not think it was for me to tell,' my father said quietly. 'A boy comes into the library, climbs to the third floor, the room with old journals, looks carefully around, finds a table behind a bookcase where almost no one can see him, and sits down to read. Some days I am there, and he comes over to me, apologizes for interrupting me in my work and asks me if I can recommend a book for him to read. He does not know me, and I do not know him. I ask him if he is interested in literature or science, and he tells me he is interested in anything that is worthwhile. I suggest a book, and two hours later he returns, thanks me, and tells me he has finished reading it, is there anything else I can recommend. I am a little astonished, and we sit for a while and discuss the book, and I see he has not only read it and understood it, but has memorized it. So I give him another book to read, one that is a little bit more difficult, and the same thing occurs. He finishes it completely, returns to me, and we sit and discuss it. Once I ask him his name, but I see he becomes very nervous, and I go to another topic quickly. Then I ask the librarian, and I understand everything because I have already heard of Reb Saunders' son from other people. He is very interested in psychology, he tells me. So I recommend more books. It is now almost two months that I have been making such recommendations. Isn't that so, Danny? Do you really think, Reuven, I should have told you? It was for Danny to tell if he wished, not for me.'

My father coughed a little and wiped his lips with the handkerchief. The three of us stood there for a moment, not saying anything. Danny had his hands in his pockets and was looking down at the floor. I was still trying to get over my surprise.

'I'm very grateful to you, Mr Malter.' Danny said. 'For everything.'

'There is nothing to be grateful for, Danny,' my father told him. 'You asked me for books and I made recommendations. Soon you will be able to read on your own and not need anyone to make recommendations. If you continue to come to the library I will show you how to use a bibliography.'

'I'll come,' Danny said. 'Of course I'll come: 'I am happy to hear that,' my father told him smiling.

'I -I think I'd better go now. It's very late. I hope the examination goes all right tomorrow, Reuven: I nodded.

'I'll come over to your house Saturday afternoon. Where do you live?'

I told him.

'Maybe we can go out for a walk,' he suggested.

'I'd like that,' I said eagerly.

'I'll see you, then, on Saturday. Goodbye, Mr Malter.'

'Goodbye, Danny.'

He went slowly up the hall. We watched him stop at the elevator and wait. Then the elevator came, and he was gone.

My father coughed into his handkerchief. 'I am very tired,' he said. 'I had to rush to get here. Faculty meetings always take too long. When you are a professor in a university, you must persuade your colleagues not to have long faculty meetings. I must sit down.'

We sat down on the bench near the window. It was almost dark outside, and I could barely make out the people on the sidewalk below.

'So,' my father said, 'how are you feeling?'

'I'm all right, abba. I'm a little bored.'

'Tomorrow you will come home. Dr Snydman will examine you at ten o'clock, and I will come to pick you up at one. If he could examine you earlier, I would·pick you up earlier. But he has an operation in the early morning, and I must teach a class at eleven. So I will be here at one.'

'Abba, I just can't get over that you've known Danny for so long. I can't get over him being the son of Reb Saunders.'

'Danny cannot get over it, either,' my father said quietly.

'I don't-'

My father shook his head and waved my unasked question away with his hand. He coughed again and took a deep breath. We sat for a while in silence. Billy's father came out of the ward. He walked slowly and heavily. I saw him go into the elevator.

'My father took another deep breath and got to his feet.

'Reuven, I must go home and go to bed. I am very tired. I was up almost all last night finishing the article, and now rushing here to see you after the faculty meeting… Too much. Too much. Come with me to the elevator.'

We walked up the hall and stood in front of the double doors of the elevator.

'We will talk over the Shabbat table,' my father said. He had almost no voice left. 'It has been some day for you.'

'Yes, abba.'

The elevator came, and the doors opened. There were people inside. My father went in, turned, and faced me. 'My two baseball players,' he said, and smiled. The doors closed on his smile.

I went back up the hall to the eye ward. I was feeling very tired, and I kept seeing and hearing Danny and my father talking about what had been going on between them in the library. When I got to my bed, I saw that not only was the curtain still around Mr Savo's bed, there was now a curtain around Billy's bed, too.

I went up to the glass-enclosed section under the blue light where two nurses were sitting and asked what had happened to Billy.

'He's asleep,' one of the nurses said.

'Is he all right?'

'Of course. He is getting a good night's sleep.'

'You should be in bed now, young man,' the other nurse said. I went back up the aisle and got into my bed.

The ward was quiet. After a while I fell asleep.

The windows were bright with sunlight. I lay in the bed a while, staring at the windows. Then I remembered it was Friday, and I sat up quickly. I heard someone say, 'Good to see you again, Bobby boy. How've you been?' and I turned, and there was Mr Savo, lying on his pillow, the curtains no longer drawn around his bed. His long, stubbed face looked pale, and he wore a thick bandage over his right eye in place of the black patch. But he was grinning at me broadly, and I saw him wink his left eye.

'Had a bad night, kid. Comes from playing ball. Never could see anything in chasing a ball around.'

'It's wonderful to see you again, Mr Savo!'

'Yeah, kid. Been quite a trip. Gave the Doc a real scare.'

'You had Billy and me worried, too, Mr Savo.' I turned to look at Billy. I saw the curtains had been pulled back from his bed. Billy was gone.

'Took him out about two hours ago, kid. Big day for him. Good little kid. Lots of guts. Got to give him that three-rounder one day.'

I stared at Billy's empty bed.

'I got to take it real easy, kid. Can't do too much talking. Have the old ring post down on my back.'

He closed his eye and lay still.

When I prayed that morning it was all for Billy, every word. I kept seeing his face and vacant eyes. I didn't eat much breakfast. Soon it was ten o'clock, and Mrs Carpenter came to get me. Mr Savo lay very still in his bed, his eye closed.

The examination room was down the hall, a few doors away from the elevator. Its walls and ceiling were white, its floor was covered with squares of light and dark brown tile. There was a black leather chair over against one of the walls and instrument cabinets everywhere. A white examination table stood to the left of the chair. Attached to the floor at the right of the chair was a large, stubby-looking metal rod with a horizontal metal arm. Some kind of optical instrument formed part of the end of this metal arm.

Dr Snydman was in the room, waiting for me. He looked tired.

He smiled but didn't say anything. Mrs Carpenter motioned me onto the examination table. Dr Snydham came over and began to take the bandage off. I looked up at him out of my right eye. His hands worked very fast, and I could see the hairs on his fingers.

'Now, son, listen to me,' Dr Snydman said. 'Your eye has been closed inside the bandage all the time. When the last bandage comes off, you may open it. We'll dim the light in here, so it won't hurt you.'

I was nervous, and I could feel myself sweating. 'Yes, sir,' I said.

Mrs Carpenter turned off some of the lights, and I felt the bandage come off the eye. I felt it before I knew it, because suddenly the eye was cold from the air.

'Now, open your eye slowly until you become accustomed to the light,' Dr Snydman said.

I did as he told me, and in a little while I was able to keep it open without difficulty. I could see now through both my eyes.

'We can have the lights now, nurse,' Dr Snydman said. I blinked as the new lights came on.

'Now we'll have a look,' Dr Snydman said, and bent down and peered at the eye through an instrument. After a while, he told me to close the eye, and he pressed down on the lid with one of his fingers.

'Does that hurt?' he asked.

'No, sir.'

'Let's have you on that chair now,' he said.

I sat on the chair, and he looked at the eye through the instrument attached to the metal rod. Finally, he straightened, swung the instrument back, and gave me a tired smile.

'Nurse, this young man can go home. I want to see him in my office in ten days.'

'Yes, Doctor,' Mrs Carpenter said.

Dr Snydman looked at me. 'Your father tells me you know about the scar tissue.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Well, I think you're going to be all right. I'm not absolutely certain, you understand, so I want to see you again in my office. But I think you'll be fine.'

I was so happy I felt myself begin to cry.

'You're a very lucky young man. Go home, and for heaven's sake keep your head away from baseballs.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you very much.'

'You're quite welcome.'

Outside in the hall, Mrs Carpenter said, 'We'll call your father right away. Isn't that wonderful news?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'You're lucky, you know. Dr Snydman is a great surgeon.'

'I'm very grateful to him,' I said. 'Ma'am?'

'Yes?', 'Is Billy's operation over yet?'

MIs Carpenter looked at me. 'Why, yes, of course. It was Dr Snydman who operated.'

'Is he all right?'

'We hope for the best, young man. We always hope for the best. Come. We must call your father and get you ready to leave.'

Mr Savo was waiting for me. 'How'd it go, boy?' he asked.

'Dr Snydman says he thinks I'll be fine. I'm going home.'

Mr Savo grinned. 'That's the way to do it, boy. Can't make a career out of lying around in hospitals.' 1 'Are you going home soon, Mr Savo?'

'Sure, kid. Maybe in a couple of days or so. If I don't go catching any more balls from little Mickey.'

'Dr Snydman operated on Billy,' I said.

'Figured as much. Good man, the Doc. Got a big heart.'

'I hope Billy's all right.'

'He'll be okay, kid. Important thing is you're getting out.'

An orderly came over with my clothes, and I began to dress. I was very nervous, and my knees felt weak, After a while, I stood there, wearing the same clothes I had worn on Sunday for the ball game. It's been some week, I thought.

I sat on my bed, talking with Mr Savo, and couldn't eat any of my lunch. I was nervous and impatient for my father to come. Mr Savo told me to relax, I was spoiling his lunch. I sat there and waited. Finally, I saw my father coming quickly up the aisle, and I jumped to my feet. His face was beaming, and his eyes were misty. He kissed me on the forehead.

'So,' he said. 'The baseball player is ready to come home.'

'Did you hear what Dr Snydman said, abba?'

'The nurse told me on the telephone. Thank God!'

'Can we go home now, abba?'

'Of course. We will go home and have a wonderful Shabbat.

I will take your things from the table.' I looked at Mr Savo, who was sitting up on his bed, grinning at us. 'It was wonderful meeting you, Mr Savo.'

'Likewise, kid. Keep the old beanbag away from those baseballs.'

'I hope your eye gets better soon.'

'The eye's out, kid. They had to take it out. It was some clop. Didn't want the little blind kid to know, so kept it quiet.'

I'm awfully sorry to hear that, Mr Savo.'

'Sure, kid. Sure. That's the breaks. Should've been a priest. Lousy racket, boxing. Glad to be out of it. Wouldve been in the war if that guy hadn't clopped me in the head like that years back. Busted up something inside. That's the breaks.'

'Goodbye, Mr Savo.*

'Goodbye, kid. Good luck.'

I went out of the ward with my father, and out of the hospital.