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have big boobs, and it turns out they're making her hunchback."

 

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"How much will it cost?"
"Five thousand, give or take."
"That's a lot of money," Harry said. The exact amount he'd put aside for a down payment on that condo in West Palm Beach.
"I'm not asking for myself." Maury's voice dropped. "Damn it, the doctor told us it would be covered. She's scheduled for next Friday afternoon."
"What about a bank loan?"
"I'm willing to pay you interest, Dad," Maury said. "Why should the bank know Elaine's bust size?"
Elaine was such a nice girl. From Georgia, where they knew what good manners were. Hunchback. Harry remembered Charles Laughton's twisted face as he lurched around like a wild animal in the bell tower.
They agreed on 5 percent a year. " Rachmones ," Harry mumbled as he hung up. Compassion.
Maury just couldn't seem to break in as a lawyer. Harry had thrown him customers over the years, but they drifted away. It wasn't personal, they assured Harry. Maury was such a nice guy, maybe even too nice. At least Elaine substitute-taught a couple days a week. They had two adorable sons. The kids were on diets, but when they visited Harry, they stuffed their pockets with bounty from his candy drawerSnickers bars, Milky Ways, caramels.
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When the doctor suggested he get psychotherapy for his hypertension, Harry had laughed, but now he regarded his Wednesday afternoon session as a small oasis in his week.
Dr. Toland's offices were dimly lit, like a bedroom. The layout reminded Harry of a series of check-valves. There were two waiting rooms and a separate entrance and exit so patients never saw each other. Even though he detested waiting, he always arrived early for appointments. Why was that?
It had taken Harry a while to relax with Dr. Toland. Bella and Velvel had ingrained in him the idea that he mustn't trust anyone who wasn't family. A few times Harry had gone home angry at not knowing anything about the doctor except what schools he had gradu-

 

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ated from, information Harry had gathered from the diplomas on the wall. Also, he had asked if the doctor happened to be Jewish. The doctor happened not to be.
During the first session, Dr. Toland had explained that high blood pressure was one of the ways Harry had developed to cope with the world, but there were other ways, and he could learn them. The doctor said it was a little like switching from being right-to left-handed.
"Ready to go to work?" Toland asked as Harry entered the office. Harry heard him click on the tape recorder.
It felt good to have his legs up, to stare at the dimpled ceiling while the doctor lavished attention on him in the form of simple questions. When Toland asked, How are you? he really meant it. Sometimes, though, Harry thought Dr. Toland was trying to trip him up, trying to get him to admit to something awful once his defenses were down. Harry was sure he wasn't hiding anything. He'd long ago decided that he wasn't a very deep person. He was conscientious, but his politics and philosophy were only about an inch thick. Under that lay strange questions and ideas not fit for conversation, such as: How many people worldwide still named their sons Adolf? Had there always been Jewish prostitutes, or were they a result of the establishment of Israel?
"You were saying you get along well with people."
"Sure, people like me," Harry said. "They can see I haven't got a mean bone in my body." Those were Mel's words, the family's words. His official description. Possibly, his epitaph.
"Why else do people like you?"
"I'm generousnot to brag, but I am. And I'm easy to please. You know," Harry lifted his head, "there's only one food I don't like. Beets. I hate beets."
"What exactly pleases you?"
"People please me," Harry said firmly.
"All the time?"
Harry scanned a portrait gallery of his family in his mind. Only Florence had ever really been angry with him. But that was natural. "Yes."
"You always get your way?"
"Who's talking