Johnny Spencer
Charlie and Walt and I spent the entire next day together. We made all the arrangements for Judy. I explained the situation at the funeral home, and they were happy to reserve a casket and let me pay for the body preparation, all refundable if for some reason the body didn’t get released the way it was supposed to.
I paid for the plot at the church office and gave a donation for the service. The priest was happy to say a mass for Judy even though we didn’t know what faith she was, or if she had any faith. We tentatively scheduled the service for the last week of Charlie’s visit in the hope that all the arrangements would be concluded by then. By the time we got back to the house from our errands, including a shopping trip for dinner, Charlie was upset about something. I asked what it was as we gathered the grocery bags from the back of the car.
“I’ve been keeping track and you spent almost a thousand dollars today.”
I agreed that was so.
“It’s so much money! You have to let me pay you back.”
We brought the groceries into the kitchen for Walt to put away. I made Charlie an offer as I unwound my scarf and unbuttoned my overcoat. “I don’t want your money, but if you insist on paying me back, here’s what I’ll agree to. The maximum I’ll accept is an even split. You’ll be responsible for five hundred dollars, but you can only pay me if I get to the point where five hundred dollars makes a difference in my life.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you owe me five hundred dollars payable on request until I die. If I ever run out of money and need what you owe me, you pay up. Until then, you keep your money.”
My arrangement didn’t satisfy him. “I’d rather pay you the regular way.”
“And I’d rather you didn’t fight me on this.” I shed my coat and carried it to the closet. Charlie put it on the hanger for me. I explained the difference between my financial situation and his.
“Just between us, Walt and I have done very well. We’ve got a hundred grand in the bank, we own this property and the building in Philly free and clear, and we still get a nice income from our half of Walt’s Special. We paid cash for the station wagon you’ve been driving. Walt walked into the dealership, pointed at the one he wanted, and told the salesman he’d take it. We can easily afford the expense of the funeral, so please, for the love of God, let us pay for this.”
He relented, but only just. “Don’t forget that I owe you. If you ever change your mind, let me know and I’ll pay.”
I agreed and he let the matter rest.
* * * *
The chefs created more culinary artwork for dinner. We had beef wellington. Most people think it’s just a seared steak wrapped in puff pastry and baked. The dish seems simple but is nearly impossible to make well. The art comes from being able to strike the right balance between adequately cooking the beef and protecting the delicate puff pastry on the outside. I attempted the dish many times and never executed it successfully. I either went too far and roasted the pastry to a hard crust, or I didn’t cook it enough and wound up with a soggy, bloody mess.
Like all things related to food, Walt was a master and always executed the dish flawlessly. He and Charlie also made a side dish of roasted mushrooms and root vegetables and creamy potato soup to start. Everything was perfect.
I contributed by combining honey, lemon juice, boiling water, and rye whiskey into hot toddies to have with the meal. The day had been damp, and my old bones were cold. I wanted to warm my insides while the heat of the kitchen warmed my outsides.
Charlie and Walt served the meal while I poured the drinks into thick mugs that would hold the heat. Charlie balked when I set a mug at his place. “That’s not more of that gross rye, is it?”
I promised the drink was different than what he had before and asked that he try it. In deference to his taste, I also set out a glass of water for him. Walt served the soup and we sat to eat. Charlie tasted his toddy and approved of its flavor. Moments later, he noticed the effects. He pulled at the collar of his flannel shirt. “Walt, did you leave the oven on? It’s hot in here.”
Walt looked at the oven, then back at Charlie. He sipped his toddy and gasped at its strength. He offered some gentle criticism. “You’re supposed to put water in these, Love.”
“I did. I put the boiling water in the mugs to scald them, then dumped it out and added the whiskey.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to leave the water.”
I teased him. “Just because you went to culinary school, you think you know everything.”
He sipped his mug again. “They’re good without it.”
Charlie tugged at his collar again and raised his mug. “You’re saying this is just hot whiskey with honey and lemon?”
“Yup.”
He had another sip and his face flushed. “It’s making me sweat!”
“They’re a nice treat on a dreary day like today.”
“Whew! I feel like someone stoked my fire.”
I sipped from my mug and sighed. “I wish I could be this warm all the time.”
* * * *
We had an excellent meal and a nice evening. Early the next morning, we packed up and left Reading. Doc called to say that Johnny Spencer would be happy to see me when we got to town. He and his folks would look for me around two. We could talk as long as we wanted because visiting hours weren’t over until seven-thirty.
Charlie drove us back. He was getting accustomed to the heavy traffic in and out of the city. We made excellent time and were able to unpack and have lunch before we had to leave for the hospital. I apologized to Walt for not bringing him along. “I just can’t figure out who to tell them you are, Love.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go do what you have to. Will you be home for dinner?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“I’ll make something special.”
I kissed his mouth. “Everything you make is special.”
“That’s because I make it for you.”
I kissed him again, this time with tongue. “You’re sweet. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I turned to see Charlie deliberately staring at the ceiling. He obviously had seen Walt and me taste each other and was embarrassed by it. I couldn’t do anything about that, so I tossed him the car keys and asked if he was ready to go. He said he was and we left.
* * * *
Johnny Spencer was smaller than I expected him to be. He was obviously very fit, but not broad or tall. Big John Spencer wasn’t very big either. He was about my height and quite a bit narrower. I felt big next to him even though I’d lost size with my age. Charlie towered over him. Silvia was pretty enough, but drawn and worried and not at her best. The three made a nice family even under their current strain.
We met Doc in the lobby. He escorted us to Johnny’s room and introduced us. Johnny was sitting up in bed and looked as hearty as a man can who’s missing a piece of his leg. I offered a hand that decided to work for a change, and he crushed it in an iron grip. He shook Charlie’s hand next. “Fuck, you’re tall! What’re you, like six-three?”
“Six-four, actually.”
“Man, oh, man; if you want to join up, the Corps would love to have you, but be careful over in Nam! Ain’t nothing over there tall enough for you to duck behind!”
He pointed at me but spoke to Doc. “You told me he was wounded like me. He ain’t missin’ no pieces.”
Doc defended me. “Mister Edwards is one of the most severe cases I’ve ever seen. He might look whole, but he’s very lucky to be alive, especially given the poor state of medicine in 1918 when he was wounded.”
Johnny smiled with full lips and bright hazel eyes that would have captured the attention of a younger version of myself. His Marine buzz cut made him look hard, but he was reasonably attractive in an average sort of way. I understood why Judy was interested in him. He cocked his head and waved my way. “Doub-ya doub-ya one, huh? Helluva long time ago. What’d you guys fight with, bows and arrows?”
I understood that he was a very young man who was showing off for himself with false bravado, but his ridicule made me mad. I growled at him. “We fought with the types of weapons nightmares are made of; shrapnel shells that tear men to shreds, machine guns that were like meat grinders, and poison gas that killed in the cruelest ways you could imagine. I killed twenty-five men with a bolt-action Springfield rifle that was longer than you are tall.”
He shrank from my anger. “Jeez, old timer. I didn’t mean nothin.’ Was just havin’ some fun wit ya.”
I apologized for overreacting.
Johnny shrugged it off. “Ain’t nothin.” He looked to his folks. “Mother, Dad, would you mind if we talked a little? Some of this soldier stuff gets rough to listen to.”
The difference in his manner was jarring. He seemed to have one voice for his parents and another for everyone else. His mother reached for her husband. “Let’s go to the cafeteria. I’d like a cup of tea.”
Doc held the door and they left. He took his leave as well. “I’ve got to get down to the clinic. Enjoy your visit and I’ll see you later, Law.”
I started to sit on the empty bed opposite Johnny’s when he stopped me. “Hey Law, lemme see.”
“See what?”
“You know what. Doc says you were blown up. Lemme see.”
I started to unbutton my shirt and warned Charlie as I did. “You might want to stand behind me. This is another of those things you can’t unsee.”
He refused my advice like he had every other time. “I’ll be alright.”
I didn’t argue. I finished with my buttons and opened my shirt. Charlie gasped in shock, but Johnny just smiled. “You’re a bad ass, aren’t ya, old man? That happen all at once?”
“Most of it did.” I pointed out two scars that were younger than the rest. “This one is from a switchblade knife when I stopped a robbery in 1936. This one is from a shootout in 1953. The rest are from 1918.”
“What happened?”
I almost told him it was a shrapnel shell, like I told most people, but Johnny wasn’t most people. He was a Marine who had been to war. He could handle the true story of what happened. Charlie wasn’t a soldier, but he was very mature for his age and the things he’d lived through in the last few days proved that. I explained what actually happened.
“I had a friend who shouldn’t have been over there. He was too kind to fight in a war. I looked after him, but we had an argument and weren’t together when a barrage started. I ran back to him. He didn’t take cover because he was too afraid to move. I ran straight at him to knock him down. A kraut shrapnel shell landed behind him. It blew him apart. Almost all the wounds I suffered were from the bones of my friend. The blast shattered his body and drove pieces of him into my flesh.”
Charlie whispered. “Jesus Christ.”
Johnny looked at me, but his eyes lost focus. “I’ve seen stuff like that. This once, a guy stepped on a landmine and blew himself up. The guy behind him went down too. We thought he had a compound fracture from the blast, but the bone sticking out of his thigh wasn’t even his. That one rattled around in my head for a while. Shit like that fucks wit ya.”
I agreed that it could.
“That’s kinda how I got it. A guy in front of me stepped on a trip wire and a grenade went off down low. Blew my left leg to shit.”
“I’m sorry for you, but you seem tough enough. I think you’ll do alright.” I buttoned my shirt back up and tucked it into my pants. As I hid the evidence of my wartime service, I talked about the rest of my life. “As for me, it took the army doc’s more than six months to patch me up, but eventually they released me. I went on to lead a pretty normal life. I joined the police force in 1919 and became a police detective in the twenties. I opened my own detective agency in 1936. That failed in 1944, and I started working in kitchens. I found a partner and helped open a restaurant in 1947. He and I just retired last year. I did pretty well, all things considered.”
“What about your wife?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. “What wife?”
“Do the scars bother her? I’m missing half a fuckin’ leg. I wanna write to my girl and tell her what happened, but I don’t know if she can take it. How’d your wife take it?”
I sat on the empty bed and held up my left hand to show my ring. “I wear this ring to show my devotion to my partner. His name is Walt. I’m queer. Walt didn’t mind the scars because they’re part of who I am. Anyone who truly loves you, will love you with or without a leg.”
“Wow, old timer. You’re a bad ass and a queer? I ain’t never met anyone like you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I asked about him. “What about you? What now?”
He gestured towards the end of the bed where he had one bandaged foot and one bandaged stump. “I gotta get back on my feet. They got more surgery to do, then they gotta toughen the stump so they can give me a fake leg. Once I can walk, I’ll get a job. My dad wants me to apply to work with him, but he’s a track maintenance manager for the railroad. He does good money-wise, but it seems boring as fuck. I thought maybe I’d be a machinist.
“When I was on the first boat over to Nam, I went all over to see how it worked. I found the machine shop. The guys in there were making all kinds of stuff. They had a lathe and a Bridgeport mill and electric welders and whatever they needed to make anything they wanted. They said no matter what broke on the ship, as long as they had the stock, they could make a new one. Even if they didn’t have the stock, they could build up the old part with weld and machine it down brand new.”
I liked his idea. “Sounds like a noble profession. I think they make good money too. You’d have to serve an apprenticeship, but if you’re good, you’ll get top pay quick.”
“I want to make my own money. I don’t want no disability. I want to marry my girl and have a bunch of kids. I hope you’re right about her. I hope she don’t mind the leg.”
He kept talking about his girl, but I didn’t know if he meant Judy. I asked a careful question to find out. “Is your girl back home?”
“She’s here in Philly, tryin’ to make it big on the stage. She’s got a great name for it; Judy Diamond. Everyone thinks it’s a stage name, but it’s not. I saw her back around Thanksgiving, just before I left for my tour. I wanna write her so bad, but I’m scared what she’ll say. What do you think I should do?”
Charlie cleared his throat and started to say something. I worried he was going to tell Johnny that his girl was dead. I didn’t want him to know, not yet anyway. He was holding onto her love to get him through a difficult time. I wanted him to keep holding on. I caught Charlie’s eye and shook my head. He clamped his mouth shut and remained silent.
I gave Johnny the advice he asked for. “How long before you can get around on crutches?”
“They said a few more weeks, but I think I can do it faster. I gotta get outta this fuckin’ bed.”
“Why not wait ‘till then? She won’t take it so hard if you can greet her standing up instead of in bed. She won’t have to see you down.”
He smiled broadly. “That’s an idea! It’ll be like I’ve just got a busted leg or something, not a missin’ one.”
“There you go, good thinking.” I got up and offered my hand. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”
He shook. “Nice to meet you, Law. Will you come see me again?”
“I’ll try.”
Charlie shook his hand. Johnny asked him a question. “You gonna join up or what?”
He was honest. “Probably not. My dad needs me at home. We’ve got a wheat farm in Montana.”
“How big?”
“Four thousand acres.”
“FUCK, that’s big! Work the farm then, brother. Everyone needs to eat! Sounds like you’re feedin’ America all by yourself!”
Charlie laughed. “We do our best. Nice to meet you, Johnny.”
“You too, Charlie!”
We left the room and shut the door behind.
Once we were in the corridor, Charlie told me what I already knew. “I almost told.”
“I know you did. He should know, but not yet. He’s very hurt right now and I don’t want him to lose hope.”
“What about the funeral in a couple weeks? He’ll be upset if he can’t go.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know. We’ll have to see. First, let’s run down to the cafeteria. I want a word with Johnny’s mother. I’m more and more convinced that she was the one who sent the letter Judy had when she died. I want her to tell me what was in it.”
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