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“All gone.”
“Have to get more.”
“I’ve written a few poems and sent them off,” the girl said.
“We had a full bottle when we came in,” Avery said.
“It’s a lovely trick. You let everyone have a sip of yours, and then you drink out of theirs for the rest of the night.”
“Do you publish often?” she said.
“I’m a welder’s helper.”
“You said you were a writer.”
“He is.”
“I almost failed high school English,” Avery said.
“Why did you say you were a writer?”
“I tell you he is,” Wally said.
“We need another bottle.”
“Let’s go upstairs.”
“I wouldn’t have told you about my poems,” the girl said.
“Crèvecoeur will be happy to read your poetry and give you a criticism.”
“You take things too far,” the girl said.
“Oh I say.”
“It’s true.”
“Apologize to her, Crèvecoeur.”
“I’m going down to the package store.”
“These other chaps owe us a round. Let’s toggle upstairs.”
They went up the staircase and entered the living room of an apartment. It was crowded and they had to push their way through to the kitchen where the liquor was kept. Wally took a bottle of Scotch off the sideboard and two glasses from the cabinet. There was a sack of crushed ice in the sink. He fixed the drinks and handed one to Avery. They went back into the living room. There was a combo playing in one corner. The guitar player was a Negro. It was very loud in the room. Someone dropped a glass on the coffee table. Someone was saying that a girl had passed out in the bathroom. Avery tripped across a man and a girl sitting on the floor. The glass doors to the outside balcony were open to let in the night air. He started to go out on the balcony but he heard a girl whisper and laugh in the darkness. The piano player in the combo was singing an obscene song in Spanish. Avery couldn’t find Wally in the crowd. Two men who looked like homosexuals were talking in the corner by the bookcase. One of them waved girlishly at someone across the room. The girl who had passed out in the bath was brought out to the balcony for some air.
Avery moved through the groups of people. He finished his drink and put his glass on a table. He could feel the blood in his face. The noise in the room seemed louder. He wanted to get outside. He remembered that he had to be out on the job at seven in the morning. He looked up and saw a girl watching him from the other side of the room. She smiled at him and excused herself from the people she was with. It was Suzanne. She wore a wine-colored dress, and there was a gold cross and chain around her throat. She looked even better than when he had seen her last.
“I couldn’t tell if it was you or not,” she said.
“Hello, Suzanne.”
“You kept walking through the crowd. I wanted to call out, but I was afraid it wasn’t you.”
“I thought you were in Spain or someplace.”
“I was. What are you doing here?”
“I’m not sure. I was leaving when I saw you,” he said.
