Drifting into sleep, he thought of a boast he had made to Heather (but never to Lydia; it didn’t pay to boast to Lydia; she was not like Heather, who would always smile sweetly at his harmless puffing and crowing): I never forget a face. Here was his chance to find out if that was still so. If he had really known the man in the other bed at some time or other, perhaps he could remember when… and where.
Very close to sleep, drifting back and forth across its threshold, Morris thought: Perhaps I knew him in the camp. That would be ironic indeed — what they called ‘a jest of God’. What God? Morris Heisel asked himself again, and slept.
19
Todd graduated salutatorian of his class, just possibly because of his poor grade on the trig final he had been studying for the night Dussander had his heart attack. It dragged his final grade in the course down to 91, one point below A- average.
A week after graduation, the Bowdens went to visit Mr Denker at Santa Donate General. Todd fidgeted through fifteen minutes of banalities and thank-yous and how-do-you-feels and was grateful for the break when the man in the other bed asked him if he could come over for a minute.
‘You’ll pardon me,’ the other man said apologetically. He was in a huge body cast and was for some reason attached to an overhead system of pulleys and wires. ‘My name is Morris Heisel. I broke my back.’
“That’s too bad,’ Todd said gravely.
“That’s too bad, he says! This boy has the gift of understatement!’
Todd started to apologize, but Heisel raised his hand, smiling a little. His face was pale and tired, the face of any old man in the hospital facing a life full of sweeping changes just ahead — and surely few of them for the better. In that way, Todd thought, he and Dussander were alike.
‘No need,’ Morris said. ‘No need to answer a rude comment You are a stranger. Does a stranger need to be inflicted with my problems?’
’ “No man is an island, separate from the main -“’ Todd began, and Morris laughed.
‘Donne, he quotes at me! A smart kid! Your friend there, is he very bad off?’
‘Well, the doctors say he’s doing fine, considering his age. He’s seventy nine.’
‘That old!’ Morris exclaimed. ‘He doesn’t talk to me much, you know. But from what he does say, I’d guess he’s naturalized. Like me. I’m Polish, you know. Originally, I mean. From Raden.’
‘Oh?’ Todd said politely.
‘Yes. You know what they call an orange manhole cover in Radan?’
‘No,’ Todd said, smiling.
‘Howard Johnson’s,’ Morris said, and laughed. Todd laughed, too. Dussander glanced over at them, startled by the sound and frowning a little. Then Monica said something and he looked back at her again.
‘Is your friend naturalized?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Todd said. ‘He’s from Germany. Essen. Do you know that town?’
‘No,’ Morris said, ‘but I was only in Germany once. I wonder if he was in the war.’
‘I really couldn’t say.’ Todd’s eyes had gone distant./
‘No? Well, it doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago, the war. In another two years there will be people in this country constitutionally eligible to become President — President! -who weren’t even born until after the war was over. To them it must seem there is no difference between the Miracle of Dunkirk and Hannibal taking his elephants over the Alps.’
‘Were you in the war?’ Todd asked.
‘I suppose I was, in a manner of speaking. You’re a good boy to visit such an old man… two old men, counting me.’
Todd smiled modestly.
‘I’m tired now,’ Morris said. ‘Perhaps I’ll sleep.’
‘I hope you’ll feel better very soon,’ Todd said.
Morris nodded, smiled, and closed his eyes. Todd went back to Dussander’s bed, where his parents were just getting ready to leave — his dad kept glancing at his watch and exclaiming with bluff heartiness at how late it was getting. But Morris Heisel wasn’t asleep, and he didn’t sleep — not for a long time.
Two days later, Todd came back to the hospital alone. This time, Morris Heisel, immured in his body-cast, was deeply asleep in the other bed.