eight-thirty, Daddy," Aileen said, her right hand ruffling the stiff black hairs on Hoke's back and shoulders. Aileen, every time she got an opportunity, liked to feel the hair on Hoke's back and shoulders with the tips of her fingers.
Hoke didn't reply, and she kissed him wetly on the cheek. "Are you awake, Daddy? Hey! You in there, old sleepyhead, it's after eight-thirty!"
Hoke didn't open his eyes, but she could tell from the way he was breathing that he wasn't asleep. Aileen shrugged her skinny shoulders and told Ellita, who was sorting laundry from the hamper into three piles, that she had given up on waking her father. "But he's really awake," she said. "I can tell. He's just pretending to be asleep."
Aileen was wearing a white T-shirt with a "Mr. Appetizer" hot dog on the front; some of the egg yolk from her breakfast had spilled onto the brown frankfurter. Ellita pointed to it, and Aileen stripped off the T-shirt and handed it to her. Aileen did not wear a brassiere, nor did she need one. She was a tall skinny girl, with adolescent chest bumps, and her curly sandy hair was cut short, the way boys used to have theirs trimmed back in the 1950s. From the back, she could have been mistaken for a boy, even though she wore dangling silver earrings, because so many boys her age in Green Lakes wore earrings, too.
Aileen returned to her bedroom to get a clean T-shirt, and Ellita went into the living room. "Hoke," she said, "if you aren't going downtown, d'you want me to call in sick for you?"
Hoke didn't stir in his chair. Ellita shrugged and put the first load of laundry into the washer in the utility room off the kitchen. She then made the bed in her bedroom (the girls were supposed to make their own), hung up a few things in her walk-in closet, and gave Aileen $1.50 for lunch money. Aileen, together with her girl friend Candi Allen, who lived on the next block, were going to be driven to the Venetian Pool in Coral Gables by the girl's mother. They would be there until three P.M., and then Mrs. Allen would pick them up and bring them back to Green Lakes. Aileen left the house, carrying her bathing suit in a plastic Burdine's shopping bag, after kissing her father again and running the tips of her fingers through the hair on his back and shoulders.
By eleven A.M., when Hoke had not stirred from his chair--he had urinated in his shorts, and there was a large damp spot on the brown corduroy cushion--Ellita was concerned enough to telephone Commander Bill Henderson at the Homicide Division. Bill Henderson, who had been promoted to commander a few months back, was now the Administrative Executive Officer for the division, and all of the paperwork in the division--going and coming-- crossed his desk before he did something about it or routed it to someone else. Bill did not enjoy this newly created position, nor did he like the responsibility that went with it, but he liked the idea of being a commander, and the extra money.
Ellita told Bill that Hoke had been sitting in the chair since breakfast, that he had pissed his underpants, and that although he was awake, she could not get him to acknowledge her presence.
"Put him on the phone," Bill said. "Let me talk to him."
"You don't understand, Bill. He's just sitting there. His eyes are open now, and he's staring at the wall, but he isn't really looking at the wall."
"What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know, Bill. That's why I called you. I know he's supposed to go to work today, because he got fifteen new supps yesterday and he has to read through them this morning."
"Tell him," Bill said, "that I just gave him five supps on top of that. I handed them to Speedy Gonzalez about fifteen minutes ago."
"I don't think that will make an impression."
"Tell him anyway."
Ellita went into the living room and told Hoke that Bill Henderson just told her to tell him that he now had five more supps to look at, in
Hoke didn't reply, and she kissed him wetly on the cheek. "Are you awake, Daddy? Hey! You in there, old sleepyhead, it's after eight-thirty!"
Hoke didn't open his eyes, but she could tell from the way he was breathing that he wasn't asleep. Aileen shrugged her skinny shoulders and told Ellita, who was sorting laundry from the hamper into three piles, that she had given up on waking her father. "But he's really awake," she said. "I can tell. He's just pretending to be asleep."
Aileen was wearing a white T-shirt with a "Mr. Appetizer" hot dog on the front; some of the egg yolk from her breakfast had spilled onto the brown frankfurter. Ellita pointed to it, and Aileen stripped off the T-shirt and handed it to her. Aileen did not wear a brassiere, nor did she need one. She was a tall skinny girl, with adolescent chest bumps, and her curly sandy hair was cut short, the way boys used to have theirs trimmed back in the 1950s. From the back, she could have been mistaken for a boy, even though she wore dangling silver earrings, because so many boys her age in Green Lakes wore earrings, too.
Aileen returned to her bedroom to get a clean T-shirt, and Ellita went into the living room. "Hoke," she said, "if you aren't going downtown, d'you want me to call in sick for you?"
Hoke didn't stir in his chair. Ellita shrugged and put the first load of laundry into the washer in the utility room off the kitchen. She then made the bed in her bedroom (the girls were supposed to make their own), hung up a few things in her walk-in closet, and gave Aileen $1.50 for lunch money. Aileen, together with her girl friend Candi Allen, who lived on the next block, were going to be driven to the Venetian Pool in Coral Gables by the girl's mother. They would be there until three P.M., and then Mrs. Allen would pick them up and bring them back to Green Lakes. Aileen left the house, carrying her bathing suit in a plastic Burdine's shopping bag, after kissing her father again and running the tips of her fingers through the hair on his back and shoulders.
By eleven A.M., when Hoke had not stirred from his chair--he had urinated in his shorts, and there was a large damp spot on the brown corduroy cushion--Ellita was concerned enough to telephone Commander Bill Henderson at the Homicide Division. Bill Henderson, who had been promoted to commander a few months back, was now the Administrative Executive Officer for the division, and all of the paperwork in the division--going and coming-- crossed his desk before he did something about it or routed it to someone else. Bill did not enjoy this newly created position, nor did he like the responsibility that went with it, but he liked the idea of being a commander, and the extra money.
Ellita told Bill that Hoke had been sitting in the chair since breakfast, that he had pissed his underpants, and that although he was awake, she could not get him to acknowledge her presence.
"Put him on the phone," Bill said. "Let me talk to him."
"You don't understand, Bill. He's just sitting there. His eyes are open now, and he's staring at the wall, but he isn't really looking at the wall."
"What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know, Bill. That's why I called you. I know he's supposed to go to work today, because he got fifteen new supps yesterday and he has to read through them this morning."
"Tell him," Bill said, "that I just gave him five supps on top of that. I handed them to Speedy Gonzalez about fifteen minutes ago."
"I don't think that will make an impression."
"Tell him anyway."
Ellita went into the living room and told Hoke that Bill Henderson just told her to tell him that he now had five more supps to look at, in
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