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“That’s why, Henry. Let me catch up.” Steve Ralphs poured more whiskey in his own glass and drank.
“So that’s why you looked so peculiar when you opened the door just now—”
“That’s why, Henry.”
“Sorry. I really didn’t mean—”
“Don’t get up, Henry. You’re here now.”
“But under the circumstances—”
“It’s all right. I’m under control. And even given the circumstances, you were always my best friend and it’s nice, in a way, to see you again.”
“Strange. I wasn’t shocked to see you.”
“There’s a difference, Henry. I mean, well—”
“You’re alive, and I’m not, eh? Yes, I can see that. Hello, I must be going.”
“What?”
“Groucho Marx sang a song with that title.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
“Marvelous man. Funny. Is he still around? Did he die, too?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not. Don’t know why. Just now.” Henry Grossbock sat up straight. “To business.”
“What business?”
“Told you at the front door. Important. Must tell. I am very upset.”
“So was I, but this liquor does wonders. Okay, Henry, shoot.”
“The thing is—” Henry Grossbock said, finishing his second drink quickly, “my wife is neglecting me.”
“But Henry, it’s perfectly natural—”
“Let me finish. She used to come visit constantly. Brought me flowers, put a book nearby once, cried a lot. Every day. Then every other day. Now, never. How do you explain that? Refill, please.”
Steve Ralphs tipped the bottle.
“Henry, four years is a long time—”
“You can say that again. How about Eternity, there’s a real vaudeville show.”
“You didn’t really expect to be entertained, did you?”
“Why not? Evelyn always spoiled me. She changed dresses two or three times a day because she knew I loved it. Haunted bookshops, brought me the latest, read me the oldest, picked my ties, shined my shoes, her women’s-lib friends joshed her for that. Spoiled. Yes, I expected to have someone fill the time for me.”
“That’s not how it works, Henry.”
Henry Grossbock thought and nodded, solemnly, and sipped his whiskey. “Yes, I guess you’re right. But let me name the biggest problem.”
“What’s that?”
