Read 1963 - One Bright Summer Morning for Free Online

her tomorrow.” Nodding, the nurse walked away, casually adjusting her belt, her mind obviously occupied with other things.
    Moe hesitated, then slowly walked towards the exit. It wasn't until he reached the street that he realized he was still carrying the bunch of violets. He walked back to the flower seller and gave her the violets.
    “Momma isn't so good today,” he said. “You have them. I'll get some more tomorrow. She would like you to have them.”
    Back in his room, he sat on the bed and rested his face in his hands. He remained like that until the shadows lengthened and the room grew dark. He had forgotten how to pray, but he tried. All he could mutter over and over again was, “Sweet Jesus, look after Momma. Take care of her: stay with her. I need her.”
    It was the best he could do.
    When the transistor in the apartment below began its strident noise, he went down to the telephone booth across the street and called the hospital.
    A woman's impersonal voice told him his mother was still a little uncomfortable. When he asked to speak to the doctor in charge, he was told he wasn't available. Moe spent the rest of the evening in a bar. He drank two bottles of Chianti wine and when he finally returned to his room, he was a little drunk.
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    O n Thursday morning while Kramer was eating ham and eggs and Helene, who never ate breakfast, was pouring him his second cup of coffee, he said casually, “Moe Zegetti is flying down to see me this morning, sweetheart. He'll be staying for lunch.”
    Helene slopped the coffee as she turned to stare at her husband.
    “Who?”
    “Moe Zegetti. You remember him, don't you?” Kramer said, not looking at her. He reached for a piece of toast and began to spread butter on it.
    “You mean that - that crook? He's just out of jail, isn't he?”
    “He's been out close on two years,” Kramer said mildly. “He's a good guy. You used to like him, Helene.”
    Helene sat down abruptly. She had gone a little pale.
    “What's he want?”
    “Nothing. He's running his own business now,” Kramer said, stirring his coffee. “He telephoned me yesterday. He's coming to Paradise City on business. Knowing I was here, he thought he would look me up. Nice to see him again. He's a good guy.”
    “He's a crook!” Helene said fiercely. “Jim! You promised to stay clear of those hoods. You've got to remember our position! Suppose someone found out an ex-convict has been calling here?”
    Kramer controlled his rising temper with difficulty.
    “Oh, come on, Helene, relax. He's an old friend. Just because he's been in jail doesn't mean a thing. He's going straight now. I told you . . . he's in business on his own.”
    Helene fixed her husband with a long, searching stare.
    He forced himself to meet her eyes and he smiled.
    “What kind of business?”
    Kramer shrugged.
    “I don't know. You ask him when you see him.”
    “I don't want to see him! I don't want him here!” She drew in a deep breath, and then continued. “Look, Jim, you've been out of the rackets now for five years: you stay out!”
    Kramer finished the last morsel of ham and pushed aside his plate. He lit a cigarette.
    There was a long pause, then he said, an edge to his voice, “Nobody tells me what to do, Helene, you know that: not even you. Just relax. Moe's coming here for lunch. He's coming because he is an old friend of mine: no other reason . . . so relax.”
    Helene saw the hard light in the slate grey eyes and she flinched. She had always been a little afraid of her husband when he looked this way. She knew she was getting no younger, that she was putting on weight, and when she examined her face in the mirror each morning, she was distressed by her fading looks. Kramer, although sixty, was still vigorous and lusty. So far he hadn't looked at other women, but she had the growing fear that if she wasn't careful how she handled him, he might look elsewhere.
    As she stood up, she forced a smile.
    “All