But, he never mentioned this place. I’m sure he would have, it being so close to the loop. Perhaps you know him?”
The conductor, who was also staring at the pile of money that Hugh was whisking away, shrugged his shoulders. “Well, did you get his name?”
“He said everyone called him Honest John.”
“Ha!" The card player chortled.
“John Galloway never does his drinking in uniform. He goes home after his shift. He drinks medicinally every morning. Three fingers of Irish to get the blood up. He takes a cold shower because he claims a hot one weakens the senses. Then he works as many hours that they’ll let him. He’s clean cut, always prompt, and never lets his guard down. He’s the soul of the union brotherhood. Catholic to the core, no communist can shake him. When he does drink, he’s among Fenian friends or not at all. And I’d give my right arm for him if he’d even let me - which he wouldn’t. He has to lead the charge because he knows better than anyone else - which he does. If you’ve met and heard the wisdom of Honest John, then I’d take it for gospel.
Does that answer your question Mr. piano player?”
It did and Eugene made his way over to the upright. He blew the dust off the seat and sat down. He opened the lid and stroked the keys. It was obviously out of tune but not terribly.
He started with “The Last Rose of Summer.” The maple wood piano resonated well, although it was situated too close to the wall and the sound was somewhat muffled. The song, a somber, Irish ballad, matched Eugene’s mood. He knew the words but didn’t dare sing them. He could carry a tune as good as anyone but this song needed a gifted voice. But he played as if he were living the melody. He used the pedals to hang onto a note at just the right moment.
Everything his heart was feeling - the sadness and tragedy and despair was united to the ancient keys of the upright. It was if there was just one universe with only three things in it: the song, the keys, and the player.
When he finished, he looked back at his audience. The woman with the broom, Hugh, and the conductor all gazed at him with blank faces.
REGINA | 91