Part 31 (1/2)

Dave stood there uncomfortably for a moment looking for someone to bring him a chair. He looked at me helplessly. I smiled up at him. ”Grab yourself a chair, son,” I said pleasantly, ”and sit down.” I turned to the others, still smiling. ”I don't know what's the matter with these waitresses. They're never around when you want them.”

Dave had to walk over to the wall and bring back a chair. I watched him. Without turning I spoke to Stanley in a quiet voice, but one that could be heard all through the room. ”Bright kid, your nephew,” I confided. ”Reminds me of you, the way you were years ago. He'll go far if he doesn't let his head run away with him.”

From the corner of my eye I could see the color run into Stanley's face. I saw Dave stop for a second as my words reached him; then he picked up the chair and turned around. His face was pale as he walked back to the table with it. He came back and sat down.

I turned to Stanley. ”Yuh look good, boy,” I said. ”Put on a little weight though, haven't you?”

The conversation went on, but I didn't remember much of it. I was thinking about the last time Stanley and I had sat at a table together; that time he had come to me with the proposition that we unite our forces and take over the business for ourselves. It wasn't so long ago at that. Only fifteen years. It was 1923.

The little man got slowly to his feet. His blue eyes twinkled brightly at me; the fringe of gray hair around his bald head seemed to stand out like a wire brush from the sides of his head. He smiled at me. He spoke with a thick German accent. ”I think that ought to do it, Mr. Etch,” he said.

I looked down at my legs. There were two of them. One was mine and gleamed with a ruddy fleshlike color. One wasn't. It was made of wood and had joints of aluminum. It fitted tightly over the stump and was held with two straps. One went around my thigh and one fastened onto another strap that went around my waist. I looked at him doubtfully.

He seemed to read my mind. ”Don't vorry, Mr. Etch,” he said quickly, ”it vill vork all right. Put on your trousers and then ve'll try it.”

Suddenly I was eager to try it. If it worked I could walk again. I could be like other people. ”Why can't I try it before I put on my trousers?” I asked.

”No,” he said, shaking his head, ”the trousers first. Take my vord for it, I know. Vitout trousers you will look at it and it vill be no good. You must not think about it.”

I put the trousers on and he helped me while I b.u.t.toned them and slipped into the suspenders. He left me sitting there while he rolled a contraption over to me. It looked like one of those walkers they make for babies, only bigger. There were two parallel steel bars held up by four upright bars. On the bottom were four coasters, round little wheels.

”Now, Mr. Etch,” he said, ”hold onto these bars and lift yourself up between them.”

I put one hand on each bar and lifted myself up. The little man stood next to me anxiously.

”Rest each bar under your armpit,” he said.

I did as he told me.

”Now,” he said, going to the other side of the room, ”valk toward me.”

I looked at him and then down at myself. My trouser legs fell straight to the floor. Both of them. They looked strange there, two of them, instead of one going to the floor and the other pinned to my side.

His voice was sharp. ”Don't look down, Mr. Etch. I said: 'Valk toward me!'”

I looked at him again and took a tentative step forward. The carriage rolled under my arm and I almost stumbled, but the bars held me up.

”Don't stop, Mr. Etch! Keep valking!”

I took another step, then another and another and another and another. I could have walked a thousand miles. The carriage moved easily with me. I reached him.

He put his hand on the bars and stopped the carriage. ”So far, so good,” he said. He knelt by my side for a moment and tightened the strap around my thigh. ”Now,” he said, straightening up, ”valk after me.”

He stood in front of the walker and, facing me, walked backwards. Slowly I followed him. He kept walking backwards in a wide sort of a circle. He never looked behind him; his eyes were watching the movement of my legs.

I was beginning to get tired. There were shooting pains in my thighs, and the back of my neck hurt from my shoulders pressing against the bars. The belt across my waist cut into me every time I breathed.

At last he stopped. ”All right Mr. Etch,” he said. ”That's enough for the first time. You can sit down now and take off the leg. Vith a month of pragtice you vill be like perfect.”

I sank into the chair, breathing hard. I opened my trousers and he slid them off. Then he quickly loosened the straps and the leg slipped off. He ma.s.saged my thighs with expert fingers.

”It is sore, yah?” he asked.

I nodded my head.

”It is alvays like that at the beginning,” he said. ”But you vill get used to it and it vill go avay.”

The sense of power I had felt when I first stood up seemed to drain out of me as the leg had come off. ”I'll never get used to it,” I said. ”I'll never be able to use it for more than a few minutes at a time.”

He pulled up his trouser leg and looked at me. ”If I could do it, Mr. Etch,” he said, ”a young man like you should not haff any trouble.”

I looked at his leg. It was artificial. I looked at him. He was smiling. I began to smile back at him.

He laughed aloud. ”See,” he said, ”it is not so bad.”

I nodded my head.

”I told Mr. Kessler ven he va.s.s in Chermany that it vould vork for you,” he continued. ”And it vill. He said to me: 'Herr Heink, if you can give this friend of mine to valk, I personally vill see that you go to America vit your family to live.' And I said to him: 'Herr Kessler, I am as goot already as an American citizen.' Is it not so?”

I grinned at him. I felt good. As busy as Peter had been, he had not forgotten to try to help me. It would have been easy for him not to go out of his way to this small town where he had heard of Herr Heink but continue about his business. But Peter had taken the time even though it had thrown his schedule more than a week out of place.

Then he sent this guy and his whole family to America and paid their way because that was the price the man had asked. He hadn't said anything to me about it. He knew of the disappointments I had had with the artificial legs made here. They weren't legs at all. They were clumsy stumps.

The first I knew about it was when Herr Heink had come to the office and sent in his card and a note from Peter. The note read simply: ”This will introduce Herr Joseph Heink, who has come to the U.S. to start in business. He makes artificial legs. Maybe he can help you.” Signed: ”Peter.”

No word about what it cost him. It was only after I had spoken to Heink that I learned what Peter had done.

This guy had something too. It was the way the joints worked. Naturally. Like your own legs. The movements were free and easy to make. You could not tell from looking that the man had an artificial leg himself. I had not known until now.

Peter was still in Europe. Doris and Esther were with him. They would be there for another six months and the business was all on my shoulders in the meantime.

I stood up and leaned on my crutches.

”You come back tomorrow morning, Mr. Etch,” Heink said, ”and ve vill give you another lesson in valking.”

When I got back to the office, Rocco was waiting for me. ”How was it?” he asked.

I smiled at him. ”Good. I think this is gonna work.”

He grinned. ”That's swell.”

I sat down behind my desk. He took the crutches from me and leaned them against the wall. ”Anything special come up this morning?” I asked.

”The usual c.r.a.p,” he answered. He started to turn away and then came back. ”Oh yes,” he said, ”Farber called and wanted to know if you were free for lunch.”

”What did you tell him?”

”I told him I didn't know, you hadn't come in yet.”