Read Online Ice-Cream Headache by James Jones - Free Book Online Page A

one in September 1951, when Eternity was famous, after having turned it down at least twice before that. The character of George was drawn from a good friend of mine out in Illinois who had lost a leg in the Pacific, and this character was one of the major characters in the early novel I wrote and re-wrote for Perkins and which was never published. In fact, the scene here, much less well written and with almost no dialogue, formed part of a chapter of that novel.

“N O,” SAID THE BIG MAN in the dark blue suit, and his voice was hoarse with drunkenness. “I can’t stay. I’ve got some friends out in the car.”
    “Well, why didn’t you bring them in with you, George?” the woman said in mock disgust. “Don’t let them sit out in the cold.”
    George grinned fuzzily. “To hell with them. I just stopped by for a minute. You wouldn’t like them anyway.”
    “Why, of course I’d like them, if they’re your friends. Go on and call them.”
    “No. You wouldn’t like them. Let the bastards sit. I just wanted to talk to you, Sandy.” George looked vaguely around the gayness of the kitchen with its red and white checkered motif. “Jesus, I love this place. We done a good job on it, Sandy, you know it? I used to think about it a lot. I still do.”
    But the woman was already at the kitchen door and she did not hear. “Hey out there!” she called. “Come on in and have a drink.”
    There was a murmur of words from the car she could not understand and she opened the screen door and went outside to the car in the steaming cold winter night. A man and woman were in the front seat, the man behind the wheel. Another woman was in the back seat by herself. She was smoothing her skirt.
    Sandy put her head up to the car window. “George is drunk,” she said. “Why don’t you go on home and leave him here and let me take care of him?”
    “No,” the man said.
    “He’s been here before.”
    “No,” the man said sharply. “He’s with us.”
    Sandy put her hand on the door handle. “He shouldn’t be drinking,” she said. “In his condition.”
    The man laughed. “Liquor never bothers me,” he said.
    “Poor George. I feel so sorry for him I could cry.”
    “No, you couldn’t,” the man said contemptuously. “I know you. Besides, it ain’t your sympathy he wants.” He thumped the thigh of his left leg with his fist. It made a sound like a gloved fist striking a heavy-bag. “I pawned one myself,” he said.
    Sandy moved as if he had struck her. She stepped back, putting her hand to her mouth, then turned back toward the house.
    George was standing in the door. “Tom’s a old buddy of mine,” he grinned. “He was in the hospital with me for ten months out in Utah.” He opened the screen.
    Sandy stepped inside with slumped shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me? I said something terrible. Please tell him to come in, George, he won’t come now unless you tell him.”
    “No. Let them sit. We got a couple of pigs from Greencastle with us.” He grinned down at her belligerently through the dark circles and loose lips of an extended bat.
    “Ask them all in, for a drink. I’m no Carrie Nation, George. Tell them to come in. Please, George. Tell them.”
    “All right. By god I will. I wasn’t going to, but I will. I just wanted to see you, Sandy.”
    “Why don’t you stay here tonight, George?” Sandy said. “Let them go and I’ll put you to bed.”
    George searched her face incredulously. “You really want me to stay?”
    “Yes. You need to sober up, George.”
    “Oh.” George laughed suddenly. “Liquor never bothers me. No sir by god. I ain’t runnin out on Tom. Tom’s my buddy.” He stepped back to the door. “Hey, you bastardsl” he bellered. “You comin in here an have a drink? or I got to come out and drag you in?” Sandy stood behind him, watching him, the big bulk of shoulder, the hair growing softly on the back of his neck.
    There was a laugh from the car and the door slammed.