The Man Without a Home

She knew that this had been a pleasant evening for the two of them. She had waited long for just such a moment so that she could properly say what was in her heart to this man, her husband. This restaurant in this strange city and this good evening was a good time to say it, because after tomorrow it would be too late.

Lew looked relaxed and fit. As other husbands might be complacent with sales made, or contracts written, or production goals achieved, big Lew Sikas was content with performance as reported in mystic figures — batting average of .313 for the season thus far, twenty-seven home runs, ninety-four runs batted in.

It was his work, and they lived with it, and when things went well for him they were both happier. He had a rare three-day break, and they had come to this city on the business matter she dreaded. On Thursday he would rejoin the team in New York for a three-game series against a team with weak pitching.

“Lew,” she said softly, knowing that if it was ever going to come true, this was the time. “Lew, couldn’t this be the year?”

He stared at her. “Year for what?” he said at last, but she suspected he knew what she meant.

“It’s been twelve years, Lew. Twelve good years of marriage. But we agreed that we should have the half-years in our own place, as soon as we could afford it. We could have afforded it easily for the past six years, Lew.”

She saw the look of stubbornness, a wooden look. A small-boy look. “I’ve promised I’d go along on this deal, Joanne.”

“You promised me something else. Remember? And there wasn’t room in those promises for these off-season tours, exhibitions, people yelling and clapping all over the world. This time it’s to be Tokyo and Manila and Havana and... Lew, I’m so sick of it, darling.”

“I got to make it while I can. You know that. While I’ve got the legs and the reflexes.”

She looked at his great hands, the brown tendons of them, the hard powerful wrists. She felt close to tears and fought them back. “But can’t you see what it’s costing us? Can’t you see that? The house you built for us closed up most of every year. Our own children feel strange with you. They know their grandfather better because they live with him most of the time. At least, we could have the half-years to ourselves. We need them, Lew. This way we live like rich gypsies. It’s almost as though you... have to have the applause.”

She knew at once that she shouldn’t have said that. She saw it in the way his eyes changed and wished she could take it back.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’ve got a lag head. I play a game and hit a ball a country mile and cover left field like a tent, and I’ve forgotten it’s a game. Is that what you mean?”

She touched his hand. “I’m sorry. But what do you leave me to think? What can I think? When I see the good years going by and they are so full of trains and planes and ships and cars and clothes and confusion. What am I supposed to think?”

He folded her hand in his. “Isn’t it a good life? Isn’t it?”

“Yes, darling, but...”

“I want us to be secure. I’ve got to make all I can. This is a good offer. The best so far.”

She blinked tears back, full of the sad knowledge of defeat. She managed a smile. “It’s just that... we want to see more of you. We aren’t a family without you.”

“Well have time for that.”

“But this year, couldn’t we—”

“I promised.” he said, and looked away from her. She knew there was nothing more to be said. Now it would be time for them to mend the hurts in little ways. She knew with all her heart that there could be more for them, more than they had, but if he could not see that, then it was up to her to take it without whines, without complaint. Because he was a good and gentle man. The best man of all.

It was then that she saw the young man hesitantly approaching their table, with reddened face and awkwardness, biting his lip. He swallowed hard, and her smile was cool and forced, knowing that this was another of the hunters of autographs, another of those who sought a small extra measure of importance by nuzzling up to the ones who were talked of.

Lew looked up quickly, and she saw him adjust the smile he wore for his public.

“Lew... I mean Mr. Sikas... Look, I’m in a jam sort of, and could you make like you know me? Sort of remember me? Shake hands and all. My name is Brenner. Del Brenner.” And with an almost imperceptible jerk of his bead he managed to indicate a booth along the far wall of the restaurant where a woman and a small boy sat.

She saw the quickness of Lew’s understanding. He got up quickly with that athlete’s way of handling himself and said, loudly enough so it would carry. “Nice to see you again, Del,” big hand outstretched. “Joanne, this is Del Brenner.”

“Glad to meet you, ma’am,” Brenner said.

Lew said softly, “Sit down a second and tell me where we were supposed to meet so I won’t foul it up when I go over to your table. They’d think it was funny if you didn’t take me over.”

“This is wonderful of you. You see I—”

“Where was it?”

“I did see you. But that was about all. They gave me a tryout six years ago. I lasted four days only. The last day, before they told me to go home, was the first day you worked out. I saw you once in the other end of the locker room and then I saw you jogging around the outfield. I came back and got married and the kid is just taking an interest in baseball, and he’s watched you on the television and I guess I just made it sound—”

“Position?”

“Second base.”

“Okay, let’s go over.” They got up. Lew looked back at Joanne. “Be right back, honey,” he said.

“Glad to meet you, Mrs. Sikas,” Brenner said. He was beaming. He looked like he wanted to run back to the table. He looked like he was willing to carry Lew over on a big platter, an apple in his mouth.

She sipped the tepid coffee. She saw Lew smile at the man’s wife, bend over and shake hands with the child. She heard his big laugh. She saw him sit down with them. He stayed a lot longer than she expected him to. It irritated her a little. The demands of the Great Public.

Tomorrow he would know the tour schedule. Exotic names and places. She rubbed her cigarette out. There was too much tiredness. This time she would not go. But she would not tell him she did not intend to go along until after the regular season was over. It would worry him, and anything that worried him might upset the delicate timing and coordination which had given him twenty-seven home runs so far this season, the best midseason total of his career.

When he came back he seemed thoughtful. She smiled, and he waved as the Brenners left. The small boy walked backward toward the front door, the better to keep watching Lew.

“Your good deed for the day,” she said, smiling.

He nodded. “Nice guy. He was ashamed he got in a bind like that. You can see how it happened. He works in the personnel office of one of the plants here.”

“I’m glad you handled it the way you did, darling.”

He yawned, muffled it with a big fist. “Let’s walk back to the hotel, punkin.”

He paid the check, and they left the restaurant. They walked slowly along the bright night street of the strange city. She paused at shop windows. She felt the odd nervous weariness that always resulted from a quarrel. She regretted having brought it up. Her fault, this time.

Once they were in the big hotel room that overlooked the city lights and the patterns of light on the river, he stood in his shirt sleeves by the window while she got ready for bed, laid out the book she would read for a time before falling asleep.

“Want to call the kids?” he asked.

She looked at her watch. “Gee, I think it’s a little too late, with the time difference.”

“Oh, I forgot that.”

She got into bed, propped upon the pillows. She read a few pages and looked over the top of the book and saw him still standing there. “Is something the matter, Lew? I’m sorry if I spoiled—”

“It isn’t that,” he said. He came over and sat near the foot of her bed, his weight tilting it down. He frowned at the far wall. “It was kind of a funny thing at that table. Those Brenners. I was the big shot. You know, giving them a break.”

“You didn’t do it that way! You were wonderful — interested and relaxed.”

“Well, you know what I mean. I sat down there. I started asking about him, how he was getting along. You know, the way you’d do if you actually knew the joker. They talked about his job, and the baby at home, and the house where he’s putting a play room in the cellar all by himself. His wife, you saw her, a sort of anemic looking girl. She got all animated about their life. Sparkly. And it was different then. I wasn’t a big shot. I was a tame seal, sort of.

“I can’t explain it. I was there, on the outside, and they were telling me about the inside. How nice and warm it was. Me with my nose on the glass. As if they pitied me or something. What are they? What have they got? A crummy little job. I don’t know, punkin. I was being nice to him, and then it was like they were being nice to me. As if I didn’t have very much.”

She thought she would speak and then she thought it was better not to say anything to him at this time.

He looked at her sharply, searching her face, and his smile was odd. “She reminded me of you, honey, a couple years back.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I can’t use words. I can’t say what’s in my head. Those Brenners... they just made me feel funny.”...

He came back to the hotel room at eleven-thirty the next morning. She had done the packing and she was waiting for him. He had an odd, guilty look on his face when he came in.

“Have you got the tour schedule?” she asked.

“Coughlin gave me the proposition. I didn’t like the looks of it. He thinks he’s dealing with some green kid, I guess.” His voice was hoarse and loud. “He can’t get away with stuff like that. I told him it was no dice.”

Joanne looked at him evenly. Twelve years of her life with this man. She knew him. She knew the way he reacted in anger. This anger was simulated. She sensed how he was saving his face. And she knew she could not let him know without spoiling it.

“Will you hold out for more?”

“Sure,” he said in a slightly blustering way. “But I don’t think he’ll meet it. Honey, we may have to spend this off-season clearing that land behind our house and trying to get the grove started.”

“All we can do is wait and see,” she said.

She turned away from him. She lighted a cigarette. Her fingers were awkward. She felt as if parades were coming down all her streets.