Im sorry.
Sos he. He didnt want to go to a hospice. This is a man who wouldnt let them evacuate him during the hurricane, and he said hed be damned if hed leave his house now. I was born in this house, chère , and I shall damn well die in it. As a matter of fact he was born in a hospital, like most people, but I guess youre allowed to exaggerate when youre being eaten alive by cancer. And I tried to think what I had to do in my life that was more important than nursing him and letting him die at home, and I couldnt think of a thing.
Youre not married.
Not anymore. You?
He shook his head. Never.
Mine lasted a year and a half. No children. All I had was a job and an apartment, and they were nothing I couldnt walk away from. Now I do substitute teaching a couple of days a week, and hire a woman to tend to Daddy when Im working. What I make doesnt do much more than cover what I have to pay her, but it makes a change.
Chère , he thought. Like the singer? Or was it short for Sharon or Sherry or Cheryl, something like that?
Like it mattered.
Thats my house on the next block. With the azaleas and rhododendrons in front, so overgrown theyre hiding the downstairs porch. They ought to be trimmed, but I wouldnt know where to start.
It looks nice. A little lush and untamed, but nice all the same.
The ground-floor sitting rooms got his bed in it, so he doesnt have to bother with the stairs, and I made up a bed for myself in the den for the same reason. The whole second floors empty, and I cant remember the last time anyone had occasion to go up there.
Just the two of you in
that big house?
Therell be three tonight, she said, and youll have the entire second floor all to yourself.
He waited in the hallway while she saw to her father. Ive brought a man home, Daddy, he heard her say.
Well, arent you the little hellion.
Not like that, she said. Youre an old man with a dirty mind. This gentlemans a friend of Pearl OByrnes, he needs a place to stay. Hell be upstairs, and if it works out he might rent that front room.
Just be more work for you, chère . Not saying the money wont come in handy.
He felt like an eavesdropper, and walked out of earshot. He was looking at a framed print of a horse jumping a fence when she emerged and led him to the kitchen.
She made a pot of coffee, and when it had dripped through she filled two large mugs and set them on the kitchen table, along with a sugar bowl and a little pitcher of cream. He said he preferred his coffee black, and she said so did she, and returned the cream to the refrigerator. They talked while they drank their coffee, and then she said he must be hungry and insisted on making him a sandwich.
Once, years ago, starved for a sounding board, hed bought a stuffed animal, a little plush dog, and carried it around with him for a week or two just so hed have someone to talk to. The dog had been a good listener, never interrupting, just taking everything in, but hed been no better in the role than this woman was now. He talked until theyd finished the pot of coffee, and didnt object when she made a second pot, and talked some more.
I was wondering what was in the bag, she said, when hed told about wanting to change his appearance. He showed her the clippers and the packet of hair dye. The clippers would probably work okay, she said, although it would be hard for a person to use them on his own head. As for the hair dye, she thought hed be taking an awful chance. It might work to turn gray or white hair the promised shade of light brown, but apply it to hair as dark as his own and you might wind up with something more in the tangerine family.
And you couldnt really dye dark hair gray, she told him. What you could do, say for a costume ball or a theatrical role, was spray what was essentially a gray paint onto your hair. It would wash out, though, so you would have to renew it after every shampoo, or even after getting caught in the rain, and a wig would be simpler and more effective.
He said hed thought about a wig, and ruled it out, and she agreed, saying you could always spot a man wearing a hairpiece. But could you? If it fooled you, youd never know youd been fooled.
I dye my hair, she said suddenly. Could you tell?
Are you serious?
She nodded. I started six, seven years ago, when the first gray hairs showed up. All the women in my family go gray early, they have this magnificent silver hair and everyone says how they look like queens. I said the hell with that, and I went looking for Miss Clairol. Ive never let it grow out, so I dont know how gray Id be by now if I did, and with luck Ill never find out. You really cant tell?
No, he said, and Im still having trouble believing you.
She fluffed her hair. Well, I just touched it up last week, so it shouldnt show, but if you look closely maybe you can see the roots.
She leaned toward him, and he looked down into her hair. Was there some gray showing at the roots? He couldnt really tell, it was hard to put the image into focus at that range, but what he did notice was the smell of her hair, all fresh and clean.