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Da
«Hey, Colon. Come here a minute.»
I'd never been called «Colon» before. Colin, usually. Even Collar once, but Colon was a new one.
«Yes, Milt?»
«You take care of that big boy, you hear me? Christ, I wish _my_ son was like him.»
Fast tears came to my eyes and I had to turn away quickly or else he would have seen me with a very wet face.
«I will. I promise.»
Da
The table was set. I brought out the only _piece de resistance_ I knew how to make well – spinach lasagne. As I walked to the table, I suddenly realized something and would have smacked myself on the forehead if I'd had another hand.
«Oh _hell!_»
Da
«Oh Da
He shook his head and gestured for me to put it down. Then he bent his head over like a long-necked bird and scrutinized it.
«Cullen it's . . . _green_.» He smiled beatifically.
«Of course it is! It's spinach lasagne.»
«_Spinach_? Oh.»
«Yes, spinach. I'm a vegetarian. That doesn't mean it's not good.»
«Uh . . . oh.» He was about to take a sip of beer, but put the glass back on the table very gently.
«What's the matter with that? This is the first time I've felt like crying all day.»
«Don't do that. It's just that vegetarians make me nervous.»
«_War_ wouldn't make you nervous, Da
«Uh . . . oh.» He took his fork and poked at my masterpiece as if he were inspecting a minefield. «Is it _really_ good?»
I squinted flame and acid his way and forked him up a piece as big as a manhole cover. It sat firm and proud . . . and green on his plate.
«You eat that!»
«But it might be hot. Green things stay hot longer, you know.»
«_Eat!_»
His smile fell but he began to eat and three helpings later he was still going strong. He hadn't said another word, but his face had relaxed and his cheeks stayed full. I know because I watched him like a hawk.
«So how is it, Popeye?»
He patted his tummy. «I stand corrected; spinach lasagne wins! So what's for dessert, kelp cake?»
«I should feel insulted now, but I'm still too glad to see you. You're a wonderful friend for coming, Da
He bowed his head my way and pushed a spoon a little to the left. «Are you okay, Cullen?»
«I'm a lot better since I got the telegram saying you were coming. Overall? I'm much better now. I think about the child sometimes, but that's only natural.»
He put his hands in his lap and leaned forward as if he were about to whisper a secret. «I know it's easy for me to say it, but I don't think you should worry about that if you can help it, Cul. You aborted because you had to. You didn't love the man, I'm assuming. What better reason could you have had than that?»
«Oh, Da
Da
«I'm not saying you're in any way wrong, Da
I took out a cigarette and lit up. We were quiet, comfortably quiet for a while. Even with talk of the baby, I felt more at ease than I had in ages.
Da
It was not a fu
«You know something fu
«Huh?»
«You shoot the smoke out the side; like you're making a little comment or something. Never in front.»
«Now I'm going to be self-conscious.»
«Cullen, you're the prettiest woman I know. You have every right to be self-conscious.»
He said that without any hesitation, but wouldn't look at me when he did. How many good men are there in the world who are both shy and complimentary at the same time? The men I'd gone out with recently were full of both compliments and eye contact, but I often got the feeling neither meant a damn.
He took a coin out of his pocket and did a lovely little trick with it – flash, whoosh, gone! – just for me.
«That's neat, Dan. Do it again!»
«Nope! Never ask a magician to do his tricks twice in a row. You'll figure them out and they'll lose all their magic that way.»
I went into the kitchen to get the dessert – a giant, horrendously gooey chocolate cake that looked great and broke all the rules.
Da
When I put it down on the table, he reached over and pulled the whole thing in front of him. «Oh Cullen, that was really nice of you to get this for me. And what are you having for dessert?»
Over coffee and cake we talked about everything. His words were so like his letters; taking their time to get wherever, fu
Years before, I had taken his «way» for naivete when I first knew him, but it wasn't that. It was a healthy, magnificently unpolluted sense of wonder. Life was wonderful – or at least full of wonders – for Da
I grew to hope for that smile; it was really the only way I could tell what was going on in his mind. As I've said before, it was very hard to tell when he was mad about something, and only slightly less difficult to tell when he was happy. His wasn't a stone face, exactly, but rather a handsome one with a set, bemused expression that rarely changed, and kept secrets – both his and your own – like no one else I had ever known.