"Want a drink?" I asked, going over to the bar.
She shook her head.
"No, thanks.
Look, there's no sense in both of us staying up all night.
Why don't you go to bed and get some rest?"
I looked at her questioningly.
"I'll be O.K. I can catch up on my sleep in the morning." She came over and kissed me on the cheek.
"Good night, Jonas. And thank you. I think you're a very nice man."
I laughed.
"You didn't think I'd let you walk around Chicago in a light coat like that?"
"For the coat, too. But not only for the coat," she said quickly. "I heard what he said about you. And still you brought him here."
"What else could I do?
I couldn't just leave him lying there."
"No, of course not," she said, her eyes wide. "Now go to bed."
I turned and walked into the bedroom.
It was a dark and crazy night.
In my dreams, Amos and my father were chasing me around a room, each trying to make me do what he was shouting at me.
But I couldn't understand them – they were speaking a kind of gibberish.
Then Jennie, or maybe Rina, came into the room dressed in a white uniform and the two of them began running after her.
I tried to stop them and finally, I managed to get her out of the room and shut the door.
I turned and took her in my arms but it turned out to be Monica and she was crying.
Then somebody slammed me back against the wall and I stared into the face of the bouncer at La Paree.
He began to shine a flashlight in my eyes and the light grew brighter and brighter and brighter.
I opened my eyes and blinked them.
The sunlight was pouring in the window and it was eight o'clock in the morning.
Jennie was sitting in the living room with a pot of coffee and some toast in front of her.
"Good morning.
Have some coffee?"
I nodded, then walked over to Amos' room and looked in.
He was lying on his back, sleeping like a baby.
I closed his door, walked over to the couch and sat down beside her.
"You must be tired," I said, picking up my coffee cup.
"A little.
But after a while, you don't feel it any more. You just keep on going." She looked at me. "He talked quite a bit about you."
"Yeah?
Nothing good, I hope?"
"He blames himself for breaking up your marriage."
"All of us had a little to do with it," I said. "It was no more his fault than it was mine – or hers."
"Or Rina Marlowe's?"
"Most of all, not Rina's," I said quickly. I reached for a cigarette. "Mainly, it was because Monica and I were too young. We never should have got married in the first place."
She picked up her coffee cup and yawned.
"Maybe you better get some rest now," I said.
"I thought I’d stay up until the doctor came."
"Go on to bed. I'll wake you when he comes."
"O.K.," she said. She got up and started for the bedroom. Then she turned and walked back, picking up her mink coat from the chair.
"You won't need it," I said. "I left the bed nice and warm."
She nuzzled her face against the fur.
"Sounds nice."
She went inside, closing the door behind her.
I filled my coffee cup again and picked up the telephone. Suddenly, I was hungry.