Page 53 of Theo of Golden

Theo smiled. Nodded skyward. Laughed.

“I’m serious, Theo. Let’s have a real conversation sometime. I want you to tell me why you do that. I want to know.”

“ ‘Twould be my pleasure, Antony. My pleasure.”

That hoped-for conversation did eventually occur. Sort of.

“Theo, do Mafia bosses like you drink brandy? I’ve got a special bottle I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Let’s open it tonight. I’ll close the shop and lock the door, so we can meet without the Loafers hanging around and interrupting. Eight o’clock work?”

Actually, eight was on the late side for Theo, but he offered no alternative.

“Eight o’clock it is. What can I bring?”

“Yourself and an empty glass.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Forget the empty glass. Just bring yourself.”

At the appointed time, Theo walked into the Verbivore, stood at the door as Tony locked up, and navigated his way through stacks of books to the chaotic space known as Tony’s office, where a pair of comfortable chairs awaited them. A small table, two glasses, and a bottle were within arm’s reach of both chairs. A lamp on Tony’s desk created an island of warm light around which books of every size, shape, color, and texture stood sentry.

The space had the gravitas, if not the decor, of a confessor’s booth.

Tony poured brandy into the glasses. They raised them ceremoniously to each other’s health, took a sip, and then settled back into their chairs. For a half hour or so, they talked about life on Broadway and the acquaintances they had in common — Ellen, Shep, Simone, the Penny Loafers.

“I saw young Simone this afternoon,” Tony said. “He told me to tell you hello and said he’d still be happy to get with you sometime and talk about cello stuff. He’s a bright kid.”

“It takes a special mind to master that instrument,” Theo replied. “I hope I get to hear him play sometime.”

When they finished their first glass of brandy, Tony poured another for each of them. His eyes already glowed with the effects of the first.

“Theo, this is an old bottle. A friend of mine, a fellow grunt from Vietnam, gave it to me at a reunion we had when the Wall was unveiled in Washington. You know the Wall?”

Theo nodded.

Fifty-eight thousand three hundred and twenty names on black granite had become an icon among American monuments.

“That was a helluva day, Theo. It’s amazing how a flat piece of stone can change your life, but that damn thing brought stuff up in me I’d been holding in for a long time. I’m still not sure why I went to see it, and I’m not sure I should have, but it probably did me some good. You ever fight in a war?”

“I lived on the fringes but never fought in one. I remember bits of the war in Spain from my childhood. And I was thirteen when World War Two ended. Thankfully, Portugal was on the sidelines; we remained neutral, you know. But we felt the effects long after it was over. How long were you in the military, Tony?”

“Too long. I was drafted. I didn’t really know what the hell it meant. I don’t think any of us did. If we had, we probably all would have run to Canada. If somebody had shown us a film of what Vietnam really looked and felt like and then asked for volunteers, Uncle Sam couldn’t have fielded a baseball team.

“I was in for four years. Two here. Two there. Or maybe two there and the rest of my life here. A lot of us brought the jungle back home with us, and we’ve been there every day ever since. It was a helluva mess, Theo. That war messed up a lot of guys something terrible.”

Tony’s voice lightened, almost to cheerfulness. “Theo, you might not believe this, but before Vietnam I was a nice, quiet young man who read books and obeyed the rules. Didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t cuss. I was a bit of a nerd. I was planning to go to college, maybe on a golf scholarship, but all that changed when they drafted me. I couldn’t qualify for a deferment, and my parents didn’t have any pull, so I got shipped off to Basic. They shaved my head, gave me a new wardrobe, taught me a bit about being a soldier, and then sent me to Vietnam. I was what they called a ‘quickie.’ The Army needed lots of young fighters over there, so they sent us whether we were ready or not.

“I’d never shot a gun before, and here I was going into combat, in the jungle, no less. I wasn’t excited about it, but it felt kind of manly — for about two days. I was in pretty good shape from walking on American golf courses, but god aw’mighty, was I in for a surprise.”

Tony took a long pull from his snifter and let the amber fire rest on the back of his tongue.

“The guy who gave me this brandy lives up in Illinois. We served together in First Infantry. The jungle totally ruined him. He’s been drunk, stoned, homeless, or in jail ever since he got back. That’s over fifty years. He got married a couple of times, but they both fell apart. We hadn’t seen each other for years, until the Wall dedication, and when we saw each other, it was the weirdest thing. We shook hands and laughed like it was a high school reunion.

“And then, out of nowhere, we both started sobbing. All of a sudden, I think we both had visions of what we had lived through together. God, it was horrible.” Tony closed his eyes and groaned. “It was hell. It… was… hell.

“And it was like, when we saw each other, we were both thinking, did we really live through that? Were we really there? And I think we both hurt for each other. Then I grabbed him, and we held on to each other, and I swear it felt like we were begging for forgiveness or something, not just for being soldiers in that war but also for being part of a world that can do such godawful things.”

Tony closed his eyes, squinted, and squeezed the bridge of his nose between a thumb and middle finger. He poured himself another generous portion of brandy.