The Secret History

'Why?'

'He used to know a lot of people.'

'Who?'

'Most of them are dead now.'

'Who?'

'I really don't know, Richard.' Then, relenting: 'I've seen pictures of him with the Sitwells. And The. S. Eliot. Also – there's rather a fu

'Marilyn Monroe?'

'Maybe. It wasn't a very good picture. Only newsprint.'

Some time during the past three days, Henry had gone over and moved my things from Leo's. My suitcases stood at the foot of the bed.

'I don't want to take your bed, Henry,' I said. 'Where are you going to sleep?'

'One of the back rooms has a bed that folds out from the wall,' said Henry. 'I can't think what they're called. I've never slept in it before.'

'Then why don't you let me sleep there?'

'No. I am rather curious to see what it is like. Besides, I think it's good to change the place where one sleeps from time to time.

I believe it gives one more interesting dreams.'

I was only pla

I had learned better by then than to pry into his affairs, but one night, when my curiosity had got the better of me, I asked him: 'Is Bu

It was several moments before he answered. 'I suppose so,' he said, putting down his fork. 'He was there when I left.'

'Why didn't he come back with you?'

'I don't think he wanted to leave. I'd paid the rent through February.'

'He stuck you with the rent?'

Henry took another bite of his food. 'Frankly,' he said, after he had chewed and swallowed, 'no matter what Bu

'I thought his parents were well off,' I said, jarred.

'I wouldn't say that,' said Henry calmly. 'They may have had money once, but if so they spent it long ago. That terrible house of theirs must have cost a fortune, and they make a big show of yacht clubs and country clubs and sending their sons to expensive schools, but that's got them in debt to the eyebrows. They may look wealthy, but they haven't a dime. I expect Mr Corcoran is about bankrupt.'

'Bu

'Bu

That is unfortunate.'

We resumed eating in silence.

'If I were Mr Corcoran,' said Henry after a long while, 'I would have set Bu

'He draws well,' I said.

'I think so, too. He certainly has no gift for scholarship. They should've apprenticed him to a painter when he was young instead of sending him to all those expensive schools for learning disabilities.'

'He sent me a very good cartoon of you and he standing by a statue of Caesar Augustus.'

Henry made a sharp, exasperated sound. 'That was in the Vatican,' he said. 'All day long he made loud remarks about Dagos and Catholics.'

'At least he doesn't speak Italian.'

'He spoke it well enough to order the most expensive thing on the menu every time we went to a restaurant,' said Henry curtly, and I thought it wise to change the subject and did.

On the Saturday before school was to begin, I was lying on Henry's bed reading a book. Henry had been gone since before I woke up. Suddenly I heard a loud banging at the front door.

Thinking Henry had forgotten his key, I went to let him in.

It was Bu

He seemed surprised to see me.

'Well, hello there, Richard,' he said, shaking my hand heartily. 'Buenos dias. Good to see ya. Didn't see the car out front but just got into town and thought I'd stop by anyway. Where's the man of the house?'

'He's not home.'

'Then what are you doing? Breaking and entering?'

'I've been staying here for a while. I got your postcard.'

'Staying here?' he said, looking at me in a peculiar way. 'Why?'

I was surprised he didn't know. 'I was sick,' I said, and I explained a little of what had happened.

'Hmnpf,' said Bu

'Do you want some coffee?'

We walked through the bedroom to get to the kitchen. 'Looks like you've made quite a little home for yourself,' he said brusquely, looking at my belongings on the night table and my suitcases on the floor. 'American coffee all you have?'

'What do you mean? Folger's?'

'No espresso, I mean?'

'Oh. No. Sorry.'

Tm an espresso man myself,' he said expansively. 'Drank it all the time over in Italy. They have all kind of little places where you sit around and do that, you know.'

'I've heard.'

He took off his sunglasses and sat down at the table. 'You don't have anything decent in there to eat, do you?' he said, peering into the refrigerator as I opened the door to take out the cream. 'Haven't had my lunch yet.'

I opened the door wider so he could see.

'That cheese'll be all right,' he said.

I cut some bread and made him a cheese sandwich, as he showed no inclination of getting up and making anything himself.

Then I poured the coffee and sat down. 'Tell me about Rome,' I said.

'Gorgeous,' he said through his sandwich. 'Eternal City. Lots of art. Churches every which way.'

'What'd you see?'

'Tons of things. Hard to remember all the names now, you know. Was speaking the lingo like a native by the time I left.'

'Say something.'

He obliged, pinching his thumb and forefinger together and shaking them in the air for emphasis, like a French chef on a TV commercial.

'Sounds good,' I said. 'What does it mean?'

'Tt means "Waiter, bring me your local specialties,'" he said, going back to his sandwich.

I heard the slight sound of a key being turned in the lock and then I heard the door shut. Footsteps went quietly toward the other end of the apartment.

'Henry?' bellowed Bun. 'That you?'

The footsteps stopped. Then they came very rapidly towards the kitchen. When he got to the door he stood in it and stared down at Bu

'Well, hello to you, too.' Bu

'Fine,' said Henry. 'And you?'

'I hear you've been taking in the sick,' said Bu

Henry didn't say anything, and I'm sure that at that moment he would have looked perfectly impassive to anyone who didn't know him, but I could tell he was quite agitated. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Then he got up again and went to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Till have some more, thanks, if you don't mind,' Bu

'Good to be back in the good old U. S. of A. Hamburgers sizzling on an open grill and all that. Land of Opportunity. Long may she wave.'