It was done. I settled back. The wrench was still in my hand. I looked
at it, then let it fall.
"Are you all right?" Diane asked.
"Yes," I said. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"You're not going to be sick, are you?"
"No! You think I'm a kid?"
"You did it for an old woman."
"Stop it."
"Today is my birthday, don't you know? I'm thirty."
"Shut up."
"I wonder what he got for my birthday."
"Please."
"I'm sorry. Really I am. I feel like talking. If I don't I think I'd
scream."
So I let her talk. I didn't answer her. She babbled away like she was
crazy. She kept it up till we got to their apartment.
Diane got out first and made sure the way was clear. "We'll use the
back stairs," she said when she got back. "We both can manage him."
It was dark and it was late and we didn't see anybody. We went through
the service entrance. It was too heavy a load for me to do it alone.
Two flights up. Diane helped me with him.
I breathed easier when we were in the marble hall outside the
apartment. She quickly unlocked the heavy plastic door and we got him
inside. She fumbled for the inner-lighting switch.
"Happy birthday," they shouted.
Now I knew why Roger had wanted to spend the evening at home.
We stood there, Diane and myself, with Roger between us.
Then they stopped shouting and stared at us. I thought they would never
stop staring.