“Some? Man, you have a strange notion of proportion.”
“Yeah, so my head’s telling me. So, I got the job. Hugh and I shook hands on it. The next thing I know I’m walking down Germantown Avenue and I remembered I never asked for an advance. It hit me like a ton of bricks.
Everything I tried to do today went down the toilet because I had a couple of drinks. I could’ve killed myself I felt so low.”
“Don’t even think that way, lad. There’s too much of that goin’ on these days.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Listen, Eugene. I’ve got a couple of bucks in my pocket. Why don’t you take it. Buy somethin’ for the wife and kids.”
Quindlin shook his head. “Thank you friend, but no thanks just the same. Everything is closed now anyway. It’s too late. Listen, let me off at your next stop. I need to stretch my legs and walk off this head.”
Galloway eased off the electric power and applied the car’s new air brakes. Eugene paused as he walked down the steps. He stretched out his hand and the conductor took it warmly.
“Patrick be with you,” Galloway said. “Honest John - now I know why they call you that - I thank you with all of my heart.”
The trolley pulled away and Eugene, once again, began a long walk.
He passed the emporium that he saw on the ride up Germantown Avenue earlier, in what now seemed so long ago. It was the one with the Christmas tree on top of it, the fir with all the trimmings. He looked at the sign in the dark window: “Abe’s Emporium.” An idea began to formulate in his mind.
It was nice tree. It didn’t look too big. It was tied down with ropes. He saw that a fire escape led to the second story of the emporium.
Eugene looked up and down Germantown Avenue. Not a soul was to be found anywhere. After all, it was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve.
Maybe he could salvage something of his long day and his long walk and his longing to see the eyes of his children light up on Christmas morning.
REGINA | 98