"Wino," said Stanley, "Wino Jones. We are going over to the other side
now. But we will be back, you hear me? You just wait."
"Sure, Stanley," said Jones, still gentle, kind. "Only, Stanley, are
you sure?"
"I'm sure," said Stanley. He turned to his friend. "Come on. Let's go."
They moved together toward the bushes.
Stanley looked back over his shoulder at Jones. "We'll be back," he
said, "we'll be back, Wino. You be looking for us."
Then they were gone. Thank the good Lord, they were gone.
"Well," I quavered at Jones, "you did say you were kind of uneasy about
him, didn't you?"
"Yes," said Jones, "that's right. You going on home now, Ed?"
"You bet!"
"I don't like to impose, but would you mind if I kind of tagged along?
I don't feel too good--after that thing with Stanley, built of all
those thousands of hissing, wiggling snakes."
With Jones, it had been snakes, not spiders. The others--to each his
own? Somehow that made it seem even worse. Jones wanted to come along
with me? I was glad and grateful. I don't know that I could have stood
being alone that night.
* * * * *
Up in my apartment, we turned on all the lights. Had a couple
of nightcaps. Sat up all night in my luxurious eight-by-ten
living-dining-kitchen area for modern living. We talked a little, but
not about Stanley and his friend. It was too fresh and we were too
shaken. It seemed safer not to mention it.
I suppose we must have dozed off and on. In the morning, I woke up. I
still had the shakes. No hangover, but the shakes.
"Jonesy," I said. "Jonesy, I guess maybe I ought to be getting along to
work. What are you going to do?"
He woke up, full awake, like that. "I'm not going back," he said. "You
know?"
"Yeah."
"I got a feeling. I got kind of a feeling that maybe I am sort of
Stanley's doorway or gate back here, if you know what I mean. He was
always nearer to me than anyone. You notice he kept telling me to wait
for him? I think maybe he needs to feel around and find me to make his
way back across from wherever he went. So, if I'm not there, if he
can't locate me, could be he won't be able to make his way back--with
his friends. I think I better stay as far away from down there as I
can get. You reckon there might be some kind of job I could do on that
paper you work for?"
"Sure," I said. I knew they needed some men in the circulation
department. "That isn't so very far away, though, is it?" I had a sense
that he was right about Stanley.
"Not miles. Distance, like that, I don't think it makes much difference
where Stanley is. It's the Yard and all that, huh? Seems to be like if
I get a steady job, get to be a real, steady, normal citizen, that's
what would make me hard for Stanley to find."
"Yes," I said, "I see. The more you are a full part of this world, the
farther away you will be from that other one--and Stanley."
"That's it."
"I hope so. Lord, I hope so. You come along down with me this morning.
We'll get you a job if we have to kill someone to make a vacancy ...
Jonesy, that--that thing, spiders, snakes--you are sure it was real? It
was actually here, I mean? And might come back if Stanley can make the
way--in force?"
"Yes, Ed. You didn't really have to ask, did you?"
"No," I said.
And that's it and that's all.
* * * * *
Since then--well, Jones is working for the paper. He got to be
assistant circulation manager in less than a year. He is as respectable
and non-skid-row a citizen as there is in town. Has a girl; getting
married next month.
Me? I'm the same, maybe a little better. I go every other week to
visit my kids and Jennie, my ex, has taken to staying around now. We
even talk a little bit and, last time, I took her some flowers and she
blushed like a bride. Something might even come of it--given enough
time.
I have checked back on the Yard a few times but so far, at least,
nothing more than the standard rack-up of ordinary horrors. I am not
going to check any more. What for? Such a thing as Stanley's friend,
you couldn't fight, and I wouldn't know what direction to run. If those
things ever find a way over here, where would they be coming from? I
don't know. From inside, maybe, Jones says. How do you run from that?
Best, I think, forget it. I intend to try. And, so help me, I am
through with skid row. Who wouldn't be?