I'll tell you. Sal, straight, no matter where I live, my trunk's always sticking out from under the bed, I'm ready to leave or get thrown out.
I've decided to leave everything out of my hands.
You've seen me try and break my ass to make it and you know that it doesn't matter and we know time – how to slow it up and walk and dig and just old-fashioned spade kicks, what other kicks are there?
We know."
We sighed in the rain.
It was falling all up and down the Hudson Valley that night.
The great world piers of the sea-wide river were drenched in it, old steamboat landings at Poughkeepsie were drenched in it, old Split Rock Pond of sources was drenched in it, Vanderwhacker Mount was drenched in it.
"So," said Dean, "I'm cutting along in my life as it leads me.
You know I recently wrote my old man in jail in Seattle – I got the first letter in years from him the other day."
"Did you?"
"Yass, yass.
He said he wants to see the 'babby' spelt with two b's when he can get to Frisco.
I found a thirteen-a-month cold water pad on East Fortieth; if I can send him the money he'll come and live in New York – if he gets here.
I never told you much about my sister but you know I have a sweet little kid sister; I'd like to get her to come and live with me too."
"Where is she?"
"Well, that's just it, I don't know – he's going to try to find her, the old man, but you know what he'll really do."
"So he went to Seattle?"
"And straight to messy jail."
"Where was he?"
"Texas, Texas – so you see, man, my soul, the state of things, my position – you notice I get quieter."
"Yes, that's true."
Dean had grown quiet in New York.
He wanted to talk.
We were freezing to death in the cold rain.
We made a date to meet at my aunt's house before I left.
He came the following Sunday afternoon.
I had a television set.
We played one ballgame on the TV, another on the radio, and kept switching to a third and kept track of all that was happening every moment.
"Remember, Sal, Hodges is on second in Brooklyn so while the relief pitcher is coming in for the Phillies we'll switch to Giants-Boston and at the same time notice there Di Maggio has three balls count and the pitcher is fiddling with the resin bag, so we quickly find out what happened to Bobby Thomson when we left him thirty seconds ago with a man on third.
Yes!"
Later in the afternoon we went out and played baseball with the kids in the sooty field by the Long Island railyard.
We also played basketball so frantically the younger boys said,
"Take it easy, you don't have to kill yourself."
They bounced smoothly all around us and beat us with ease.
Dean and I were sweating.
At one point Dean fell flat on his face on the concrete court.
We huffed and puffed to get the ball away from the boys; they turned and flipped it away.
Others darted in and smoothly shot over our heads.
We jumped at the basket like maniacs, and the younger boys just reached up and grabbed the ball from our sweating hands and dribbled away.
We were like hotrock blackbelly tenorman Mad of American back-alley go-music trying to play basketball against Stan Getz and Cool Charlie.
They thought we were crazy.
Dean and I went back home playing catch from each sidewalk of the street.
We tried extra-special catches, diving over bushes and barely missing posts.
When a car came by I ran alongside and flipped the ball to Dean just barely behind the vanishing bumper.
He darted and caught it and rolled in the grass, and flipped it back for me to catch on the other side of a parked bread truck.
I just made it with my meat hand and threw it back so Dean had to whirl and back up and fall on his back across the hedges.
Back in the house Dean took his wallet, har-rumphed, and handed my aunt the fifteen dollars he owed her from the time we got a speeding ticket in Washington.
She was completely surprised and pleased.
We had a big supper.
"Well, Dean," said my aunt, "I hope you'll be able to take care of your new baby that's coming and stay married this time."