The Tree Bears Fruit
13
"Thinking. I think better when it's raining."
Silence. Then a voice from his companion. "The guy must
be batty."
"What are you thinking about?" the driver asked.
"About going abroad. I'm going there."
"Don't try to swim it," his companion said.
"You work at anything?" the driver asked.
"I'm a writer."
"A reporter? What paper?" asked the second man challengingly.
"An author," I said.
"Got anything to identify you?" the driver asked.
I handed him my wallet. "You'll find all my papers there,"
I said. "Driver's license, draft card, all you need."
The two put their heads together, passed my papers between them, and the driver handed them back neatly.
"OK, bud," he said, passing judgment noncommittally in
the inimitable fashion of police officers. "Better get into some
dry clothes."
In the subway train I attempted to sit down but chills ran
up and down my spine. I stood up all the way to my station.
When I finally reached home I pulled off my waterlogged
shoes and left them at the door. I took off my socks and held
them by their tops between the fingers of my left hand. With
my right, 1 opened the door. My wet feet marked the rug as I
tiptoed toward the bathroom. There I threw all my clothes in
a heap in one end of the tub and stood under a scalding
shower. As the first rays of the sun slipped into the bedroom
I pulled the covers over me and fell into a dreamless sleep.
When I awoke, it was midnight. I rolled over, and slept peacefully until the dawn of the next day.