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Back The Fall of Valor Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Introduction by Michael Bronski
  2. BEGINNING
  3. II
  4. III
  5. IV
  6. V
  7. VI
  8. VII
  9. VIII
  10. IX
  11. X
  12. XI
  13. XII
  14. XIII
  15. MIDDLE
  16. II
  17. III
  18. IV
  19. V
  20. VI
  21. VII
  22. VIII
  23. IX
  24. X
  25. XI
  26. XII
  27. XIII
  28. XIV
  29. XV
  30. XVI
  31. XVII
  32. XVIII
  33. XIX
  34. XX
  35. END
  36. II
  37. III
  38. IV
  39. V
  40. VI
  41. VII
  42. VIII
  43. IX
  44. X
  45. XI
  46. XII
  47. XIII
  48. XIV
  49. XV
  50. XVI
  51. About the Author

John Grandin was sorting out his books to select those which he would need for his opening class when the telephone rang. The automatic dialing system filled the living room with an insistent zing. For a moment, he thought of letting it go. Then he told himself that this would be an indication of fear—fear of answering and fear of finding out. After a second or two of hesitation he picked up the receiver.

The young baritone voice sang over the wire, hearty as always but with an unwonted nervousness or tension:

“Johnnie? It’s me, Johnnie—Cliff. I’m in the station at Bridgeport, just coming into New York; can I see you, Johnnie?”

“What is it, Cliff?”

“Oh, nothing special—I just thought if you were in—”

“Wait a moment, Cliff, I hear someone at the door. . . .”

John Grandin put down the receiver and walked to the middle of the room. Why should Cliff want to see him, or he Cliff? He knew full well why. If Cliff wanted to call on him—if the two of them were to have the opportunity of being together in the apartment, with no one knowing—what, indeed, was there to decide. It was a fortuitous meeting in private—for what?—such as he could not have dared to hope for. He stalled a moment longer and then went back to the phone.

“Sorry, Cliff, it was the laundryman. Now, what was it you wanted?”

“Wanted? Well, it isn’t that, Johnnie, but I’m coming in town and if you’re not busy—”

Grandin looked ruefully at the books he had chosen for the first-­morning class. “All right, Cliff.”

“I’ll be there in about an hour and a half,” said the eager young voice, “say about ten-­thirty at the latest. I’ll come straight to your apartment, Johnnie, shall I? That all right?”

“Yes.—You know where I am?”

“Oh sure! I’ve been keeping that note you stuck in our box before we left Nantucket. I bet I’ve been calling you a dozen times. Though I don’t know why, ’cause I knew you wouldn’t be back till today. Still, I just thought maybe you might be in earlier. . . .”

“Wait a moment, Cliff.” He found this difficult to say, but it was something he had to ask: “Is Billie coming with you, by any chance?”

“No, just me.”

As he came away from the telephone, Grandin realized with a sinking feeling that he had not given himself time really to think if this was what he wanted. Once again Cliff Hauman had completely taken over his day.