While he was still in the hospital the crew took turns visiting his room, telling jokes and smoking out the window. Betty came with Lester and the girls and the men excused themselves under her fierce stare, promising not to smoke or drink in the hospital room. They gave him so much morphine he doesn’t remember a lot about his time in the hospital except the melting in Betty’s eyes. She wiped at them impatiently and complained about the smoke in the room, but One-Two thought maybe she was worried.

Once he healed enough to walk, he took the money the union gave him and looked for work. He couldn’t get back on the crew, his body couldn’t take it anymore. Instead, the manager at the Windsor, where he had lived since 1964, offered him the maintenance job. He was able to stay near Betty, his only consolation. As he settled into the mind-numbing work of shoring up the old building, he had only one comfort: that maybe Betty had been crying for him.

One-Two enters the Curtis and is directed downstairs by the pot-glazed clerk. He winds his way through the boilers and finds Simon and Dougan in the back, quietly reading High Society.

“Well, goddamn,” says Simon, “long time no see.”

One-Two can’t help smiling.

“It’s been a while, sonny, been a long time.” He nods politely at Dougan, who dips his head in response and stands, mock-stretching.

“Well, boys. I think I gotta go to the can.”

He steps past Simon and One-Two. They hear him humming and tapping the rolled magazine against his thigh.

Neither One-Two nor Simon speaks. They settle down on the crates. One-Two looks around at the rusted boilers and the plumbing guts suspended from the ceiling.

“Quite the place.”

Simon looks directly at him. “It’s goddamn good to see you, One-Two.”

“Didn’t know if I should come by.”

“Should don’t count for much. I’m glad you did.”

One-Two is relieved. He is unused to this directness from Simon. He figured he’d have to mine him, sift past the layers of guilt and recrimination, just to get a response.

“What you been doin?”

“Helpin out down here. Couple of friends got out of the joint and I see them a bit.”

“Stillwater?”

“Yeah.”

“Guess you and Betty didn’t write much when you were in, huh?” One-Two hangs his head, feeling that maybe he went too far.

Simon shakes his head. “Naw. Didn’t figure she wanted to hear from me.”

“You figured wrong. You should stop over, Simon. Couldn’t hurt.”

“Still full of advice, huh?”

“Couldn’t be a bad thing to stop over. Lincoln’s tryin to bend his mind around the fact he’s got an uncle. Can’t quite figure you out, and Betty ain’t givin him anything to go on.”

“You look the same. Still at the Windsor?”

“Yeah. We both in the basement now.”