“The hell with the record.”
“You’re in good form. You’re drinking well and steady and they’re not having any effect on you.”
“Fuck the record.”
“All right. Como usted quiere. I’m keeping count just in case you change your mind.”
“He’ll keep count all right,” Honest Lil said. “He has the duplicate tickets.”
“What do you want, woman? Do you want a real record or a phony record?”
“Neither. I want a highbalito with agua mineral.”
“Como siempre,” Serafín said.
“I drink brandy, too.”
“I don’t want to be here when you drink brandy.”
“Tom, did you know I fell down trying to get onto a streetcar and was nearly killed?”
“Poor Honest Lil,” Serafín said. “A dangerous and adventurous life.”
“Better than yours standing all day in wooden shoes behind a bar and serving rummies.”
“That’s my trade,” Serafín said. “It’s a privilege to serve such distinguished rummies as you.”
Henry Wood came over. He stood, tall and sweating and newly excited by a change of plans. There was nothing that pleased him, Thomas Hudson thought, like a sudden change of plans.
“We’re going over to Alfred’s Sin House,” he said. “Do you want to come, Tom?”
“Willie’s waiting for you at the Bar Basque.”
“I don’t believe we really want Willie on this one.”
“You ought to tell him, then.”
“I’ll call him up. Don’t you want to come? This is going to be very good.”
“You ought to eat something.”
“I’ll eat a good big dinner. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing fine,” Thomas Hudson said. “Really fine.”
“Are you going to try for the record?”
“No.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’ll come out and sleep at the house if you like.”
“No. Have fun. But eat something.”
“I’ll eat an excellent dinner. Word of honor.”
“Be sure and call Willie.”
“I’ll call Willie. You can be quite sure.”
“Where’s Alfred’s Sin House?”
“It’s an absolutely beautiful place. It overlooks the harbor and it’s well furnished and really delightful.”
“I mean what is the address.”
“I don’t know but I’ll tell Willie.”
“You don’t think Willie will be hurt?”
“I can’t help it if he is, Tom. I really can’t ask Willie on this. You know how fond I am of Willie. But there are things I simply can’t ask him on. You know that as well as I do.”
“All right. But call him up.”
“Word of honor I’ll call him. And word of honor I’ll eat a first-rate dinner.”
He smiled, patted Honest Lil on the shoulder, and was gone. He moved very beautifully for such a big man.
“What about the girls at his place?” Thomas Hudson asked Honest Lil.
“They’re gone by now,” Honest Lil said. “There’s nothing to eat there. And I don’t think there is much to drink. Do you want to go around there or would you rather come to my place?”
“Your place,” Thomas Hudson said. “But later on.”
“Tell me another happy story.”
“All right. What about?”
“Serafín,” Lil said. “Give Tomás another double frozen without sugar. Tengo todavía mi highbalito.” Then to Thomas Hudson, “About the happiest time you remember. And not with smells.”
“It has to have smells,” Thomas Hudson said. He watched Henry Wood across the square getting into the sport car of the very rich sugar planter named Alfred. Henry Wood was too big for the car. He was too big for almost anything, he thought. But he knew three or four things he was not too big for. No, he said to himself. This is your day off. Take your day off.
“What do you want the story to be about?”
“What I asked you.”
He watched Serafín pour the drink from the shaker into the tall glass and saw the top of it curl over the edge and onto the bar. Serafín pushed the base of the glass into the slit in a cardboard protector and Thomas Hudson lifted it, heavy and cold above the thin stem he held in his ringers, and took a long sip and held it in his mouth, cold against his tongue and teeth, before he swallowed it.
“All right,” he said. “The happiest day I ever had was any day when I woke in the morning when I was a boy and I did not have to go to school or to work. In the morning I was always hungry when I woke and I could smell the dew in the grass and hear the wind in the high branches of the hemlock trees, if there was a wind, and if there was no wind I could hear the quietness of the forest and the calmness of the lake and I would listen for the first noises of morning. Sometimes the first noise would be a kingfisher flying over the water that was so calm it mirrored his reflection and he made a clattering cry as he flew. Sometimes it would be a squirrel chittering in one of the trees outside the house, his tail jerking each time he made a noise. Often it would be the plover calling on the hillside. But whenever I woke and heard the first morning noises and felt hungry and knew I would not have to go to school nor have to work, I was happier than I have ever been.”