Straight Man

errand would be a waste of their time, even if people like me weren’t cutting in line ahead of them. Jacob Rose himself was no fireball in the classroom, and he’s been hearing the same complaints about Finny for a decade. There are lots of dull teachers. You can’t make them all deans.
    What Marjory says is true. I am limping. “Old pal-o’-mine,” I say, “let me see your phone book.”
    She hands it over. I find the number of my doctor, Philip Watson, which I read out loud to Marjory, who dials it, then hands me the receiver. In the next room I hear Jacob is also on the phone.
    After several rings, the phone is answered. I identify myself and ask if I can speak to the doctor. I’m asked if I can hold. My problem is the exact opposite, I explain. Muzak, by way of response.
    “Ah, Marjory, we’re getting old, you and I,” I say, studying her. She’s in her early sixties, but still a vigorous woman. Her body, instead of growing slack, has become compact, as if she’s reducing everything to essentials. Nearly a decade ago I played golf with herand her husband, Harold, Lily’s colleague at the high school. Marjory had one of the sweetest swings I ever saw. One-eighty from the tee with a three wood, right down the center of the fairway every time. You could set yardage markers by where her ball dropped. “But we still have our memories. Those hot August nights, lying naked on the beach, the sand still warm, our skin cool, nothing but stars above. Remember?”
    “No,” she admits. “But I like your description.”
    “Watson,” I say, when Phil comes on the line. “I need you.”
    “Hank,” he recognizes the voice of his left fielder. “I need you, too. At first base this season. I talked my nephew into trying out this year, and I want him in left.”
    Most people who don’t call their doctors when they should, have perfectly good reasons. They don’t want their medical fears confirmed. But when your doctor doubles as the captain of your summer softball team, there are additional reasons to steer clear of him in the off-season. I had hoped not to see Phil until June, at which point I intended to just trot out to left field and thereby avoid discussion.
    “And the reason you need me is that I never see you
until
you need me,” he went on. “Regular checkups and you wouldn’t have these emergencies.”
    “Fine. Punish me.”
    “What is it this time?”
    “I’m trying to pass a stone,” I tell him, winking at Marjory. “It won’t.”
    Marjory starts to rise. “Maybe I could go somewhere?”
    “No,” I say. “Stay here. Hold my hand.”
    “What?” Phil says.
    “Not you,” I tell him. “From you I want an X ray.”
    “Do you
know
you’re trying to pass a stone, or is this something you suspect? You always come in knowing what’s wrong with you, and you’re always wrong.”
    “I know I can’t pee,” I tell him. “My father is a certified stone former. You should see all his citations.”
    Marjory pushes back her chair. “Back in a few minutes.” She smiles, and leaves.
    “And you’ve waited until you’re in serious pain before calling,” he intuits.
    “Pain was last week,” I tell him. “Discomfort, the week before that. This week my back teeth are floating.”
    “Idiot.”
    “I’d hoped to get through the semester.”
    “And now you can’t get through the lunch hour.”
    “See? You
do
understand.”
    “One hour.”
    “I’ll be there.”
    When I hang up, I hear Jacob do the same thing in the inner office. I take advantage of Marjory’s absence by ringing him. “Hello, Numb Nuts,” I greet him.
    “Marjory,” he says. “You always did do a terrific Hank Devereaux.”
    I go in, take a seat in one of Jacob’s plush leather chairs. He’s got a nice office, my pal the dean. Much nicer than mine. “So. How was California?” I inquire.
    “Texas,” he corrects me. “Hot. In the nineties already. Also, there are no Jews in Texas.”
    “I’ve heard they’re very strict.”
    “Good tacos, though.”
    “I bet.”
    We’re grinning at each other now.
    “So,” I say. “Who do you figure snuffed this goose?”
    Jacob shrugs. “Lou Steinmetz thinks it was you. I told him I didn’t think you could take a goose in a fair fight.”
    “You’re in an awfully good mood,” I observe. “Things must have gone well.”
    Jacob takes a moment to consider his response, as if precision were important. “I
did
receive a job offer this