Makes no difference, says Hymie. A Polok is a Polok anywhere. You can’t trust ‘em. His teeth were actually beginning to rattle.
I ought to be getting home now, he adds disconsolately. The wife’ll be wondering where I am. Have you got the time on you?
O.K. let’s take the subway then. It’ll be a little faster.
Not for you, Mr. M.! says Hymie, giving me a wild flattering smirk.
You said it, kid. I’m a champ, I am. Watch me do a spurt … And with that I shoot forward like a rocket, leaving Hymie standing stere with arms up yelling for me to return.
The next thing I know, I’m directing taxi-cabs, a whole fleet of them, from the saddle. I’ve got on a loud striped sweater, and with megaphone in hand I’m directing traffic. The whole city seems to give way, no matter in which direction I press. It’s like riding through vapor. From the top of the American Tel. & Tel. Building the president and the vice-president are sending out messages; streams of ticker tape float through the air. It’s like Lindbergh coming home again. The ease with which I circle around the cabs, darting in and out and always a leap ahead of them, is due to the fact that I’m riding Joe Folger’s old bike. That guy sure knew how to handle a wheel. Training? What better training than this? Frank Kramer himself couldn’t do better.
The best part of the dream was the return to Bedfort Rest. There they were again, the boys, all in different accoutre, the wheels bright and gleaming, the saddles just right, all with noses upturned, as if sniffing the breeze. It was good to be with them again, feel their muscles, examine their equipment. The leaves had grown thicker, the air was cooler now. Pop was rounding them up, promising them a good work-out this time…
When I got home that night—it was always the same night no matter how much time had elapsed—my mother was waiting up for me. You’ve been a good boy to-day, she said, I’m going to let you take your bicycle to bed with you.
Really? I exclaimed, hardly able to believe my ears.
Yes, Henry, she said, Joe Folger was here a few minutes ago. He told me you would be the next world’s champion.
He said that, mamma? No, really?
Yes, Henry, every word of it. He said I should fatten you up a little first. You’re under weight.
Mamma, I said, I’m the happiest man alive. I want to give you a big kiss.
Don’t be silly, she said, you know I don’t like that.
I don’t care, mamma, I’m going to kiss you just the same. And with that I gave her a hug and squeeze that nearly split her in two.
You’re sure you meant it, mamma—about taking the bike to bed with me?
Yes, Henry. But don’t get any grease on the sheets!
Don’t worry, mamma, I yelled. I was beside myself with joy. I’ll spread some old newspapers in between. How’s that?
I woke up feeling around for the bicycle. What are you trying to do? cried Mona. You’ve been clawing me for the last half hour.
I was looking for my wheel.
You wheel? What wheel? You must be dreaming.
I smiled. I was dreaming, a delicious dream too. All about my bike!
She began to titter.
I know, it sounds foolish, but it was a grand dream. I had a wonderful time.
Hey Ted, I yelled, are you there?
No answer. I called again.
He must have left, I mumbled. What time is it?
It was high noon.
I wanted to tell him something. Too bad he’s left already. I turned over on my back and stared up at the ceiling. Wisps of dream floated through my brain. I felt mildly seraphic. And somewhat hungry.
You know what, I mumbled, still dream-logged, I think I ought to go see that cousin of mine. Maybe he’ll lend me the wheel for a space. What do you think?
I think you’re just a little goofy.
Maybe, but I sure would love to ride that bike again. It used to belong to a six-day rider; he sold it to me at the track, you remember?
You’ve told me that several times.
What’s the matter, aren’t you interested? You never rode a wheel, I guess, did you?
No, but I’ve ridden horseback.
That’s nothing. Unless you’re a jockey. Well, shit, I guess it’s silly to be thinking about that bike. Them days are done for.
Suddenly I sat up and stared at her. What’s the matter with you this morning? What’s got you?
Nothing, Val, nothing. She gave me a feeble smile.
There is too, I insisted. You’re not yourself. She sprang out of bed. Get dressed, she said, or it’ll be dark before long. I’ll fix breakfast.
Fine. Can we have bacon and eggs?
Anything you like. Only hurry! I couldn’t see what there was to be hurrying about, but I did as she said. I felt marvelous—and hungry as a wolf. Between times I wondered what was eating her. Maybe her period coming on.
Too bad O’Mara had skipped off so early. There was something I wanted to tell him, something that had leaped to mind as I was coming out of the dream. Well, no doubt it would keep.
I threw back the curtains and let the sun stream in. The place was more beautiful than ever this morning, it seemed to me. Across the street a limousine was standing at the curb, waiting to take milady on her shopping tour. Two big greyhounds were seated in the rear, quiet and dignified, as always. The florist was just delivering a huge bouquet. What a life! I preferred my own, however. If only I had that wheel again everything would be tops. Somehow the dream clung to me tenaciously. The champ! What a quaint idea!
We had hardly finished breakfast when Mona announced that she had to go somewhere for the afternoon. She would be back in time for dinner, she assured me.
That’s all right, I said, take your time. I can’t help it, but I feel too wonderful for words. It wouldn’t matter what happened to-day, I’d still feel fine.
Stop it! she begged.
Sorry, girlie, but you’ll feel better too once you step outdoors. Why, it’s like Spring.
In a few minutes she was gone. I felt so full of energy I couldn’t decide what to do. Finally I decided not to do anything—just hop into the subway and get out at Times Square. I’d stroll about and let what happen happen.
By mistake I got out at Grand Central. Walking along Madison Avenue the notion seized me to look up my friend Ned. Ages it was since I last saw him. (He was back again in the advertising and promoting racket.) I’d drop in and say hello, then scram.
Henry! he blurts out, it’s as if God himself sent you. Am I in a mess! There’s a big campaign on and everybody’s home ill. This damned thing (he flourished some copy) has got to be finished by tonight. It’s life and death. Don’t laugh! I’m serious. Wait, let me explain…
I sat down and listened. The long and short of it was that he was trying to write a piece of copy about the new magazine they were putting on the market. He had just the bone of an idea, nothing more.
You can do it, I’m sure, he implored. Write anything, so long as it makes sense. I’m in a fix, I tell you. Old man McFarland—you know who I mean, don’t you?—is behind this business. He’s pacing up and down in there. Threatens to give us all the sack if something doesn’t happen soon.
The only thing to do was to say yes. I got what little dope he had to offer and sat down to the machine. Soon I was pounding away. I must have written three or four pages when he tiptoed in to see how I was doing. He began reading the copy over my shoulder. Soon he was clapping his hands and shouting Bravo! Bravo!
Is it that good? I asked, looking up at him with twisted neck.
Is it good? It’s superb! Listen, you’re better than the guy who does this stuff. McFarland will go nuts when he sees this … He stopped abruptly, rubbing his hands and giving little grunts. You know what? I’ve an Idea. I’m going to introduce you to McFarland as the new man I’ve hired. I’m going to tell him that I persuaded you to take the job…
But I don’t want a job!
You don’t have to take it. Of course not. I want to quiet him, that’s all. Besides, the main purpose is to have you talk to him. You know who he is and all he’s done. Can’t you give him a little salve? Flatter the pants off him! Then go into a little spiel—you know what I mean. Give him some pointers on how to launch the magazine, how to appeal to the reader, and all that shit. Lay it on thick! He’s in the mood to swallow anything.
But I hardly know anything about the damned thing, I remonstrated. Listen, you’d better do it yourself. I’ll stand behind you, if you like.
No you don’t, said Ned. You’re going to do the talking. Just talk a blue streak … anything that comes into your head. I’m telling you, Henry, when he sees what you’ve written he’ll listen to anything you say. I haven’t been in this racket for nothing. I know a good thing when I see it.
There was only one thing to do. I said O.K. But don’t blame me if I ball things up, I whispered, as we tip-toed towards
