Establishment Read Free

same eyes were watching her now, wide open, childish. Her son, Sam, had the same eyes. This man had never grown up. Women mature; it is in their glands, their bodies, their life force; but men can experience a host of hells, and still they are small boys framed in large bodies.
    â€œWhat happened today, Bernie? Why don’t you tell me about it?”
    â€œWell, sure, sure. But it’s one of those damn things that has a history. It didn’t just happen, any more than you and me, any more than we just happened. You remember when I left you in Paris?”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œWell, I made my way south. I told you about that, and in Marseille I teamed up with this kid, Irv Brodsky. You remember?”
    â€œHe was with the Internationals too.” Barbara nodded. “Just tell me, Bernie. I remember.”
    He looked at her questioningly. Something in her tone threw him off. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, Irv Brodsky. A Spanish vet from the Bronx in New York. He got out of Barcelona by boat to Marseille, and we both got jobs with two Frenchmen who were running illegals from Marseille into Palestine. We were scuttled off the coast of Palestine, and we got to shore and made our way inland and ended up in a kibbutz near Haifa.”
    Barbara nodded. She had heard the story many times.
    â€œWell, I wasn’t sure you remembered. We were very close, Brodsky and me. We worked at the kibbutz a few months, and we organized a defense for them. I’m just putting it into perspective,” he said uneasily. “I guess I told you how the kibbutz decided that I should enlist in the British army and learn how to be a pilot. I mean that was the last time I saw Brodsky—until today.”
    â€œYou saw him today? Where?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to get at, Bobby. Today, around lunchtime, he and another guy, name of Herb Goodman, well, they just walked into the garage and there they were, Irv Brodsky and this fellow Goodman. You can imagine how I felt, seeing Brodsky after all these years.”
    â€œYou mean they just walked into your garage by accident?”
    â€œNo, no. Good heavens, no. Brodsky tracked me down.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, he tracked you down?”
    â€œIt’s not so complicated. The Lincoln vets have an office in New York, and they keep track of us. I subscribe to their newsletter, you know, and I sent them some money. He got my address from them—I gave them the garage address—and he and Herb Goodman came out here to see me.”
    â€œJust to see you,” Barbara said after a long moment. “They came all this distance just to see you again. I got the impression that you never met this Herb Goodman before.”
    â€œThat’s right. And I get the impression that you’re angry. Good God, for once I don’t feel like a hole in the ground and you’re angry.”
    â€œI’m not angry.” And to herself she added, Only afraid. I’m so afraid .
    â€œI run a garage,” he exclaimed. “Do you ever reflect on that fact? That’s what I do. I’m a damn grease monkey, whether you want to accept it or not. I work twelve, fourteen, sixteen hours a day trying to meet my payroll and make the mortgage payments. I don’t even support my wife and kid. You do.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    â€œI come home at night and I’m too damn tired to put my arms around you and say I love you. I’m too tired for sex. Or maybe I’ve come to hate myself so much that sex doesn’t work.”
    â€œDo you want dessert?” Barbara asked quietly. “We have ice cream.”
    He leaned back, and a slow grin spread over his face. “You know, I love you, Bobby. I get these crazy fits, but I love you so damn much. It’s just that loving you and running a garage don’t make it for me. I don’t know why. I eat myself up. This morning I was sure I was developing an