"C M Kornbluth - Gomez" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kornbluth C M)

"That is it," Gomez said hoarsely. "Not since then. Always before in the back of my head is the math, but
not since then."

"My God," the admiral said softly. "Can such a thing happen?" He reached for the phone.

He found out that such things can happen.

Julio went back to Spanish Harlem and bought a piece of the Porto Bello with his savings. I went back
to the paper and bought a car with my savings. MacDonald never cleared the story, so the Sun-



day editor had the satisfaction of bulldozing an admiral, but didn't get his exclusive.

Julio and Rosa sent me a card eventually announcing the birth of their first-born: a six-pound boy,
Francisco, named after Julio's father. I saved the card and when a New York assignment came my
way-it was the National Association of Dry Goods Wholesalers; dry goods are important in our town-I
dropped up to see them.

Julio was a little more mature and a little more prosperous. Rosa- alas!-was already putting on weight,
but she was still a pretty thing and devoted to her man. The baby was a honey-skinned little wiggler. It
was nice to see all of them together, happy with their lot.

Julio insisted that he'd cook arroz con polio for me, as on the night I practically threw him into Rosa's
arms, but he'd have to shop for the stuff. I went along.

In the corner grocery he ordered the rice, the chicken, the gar-banzos, the peppers, and, swept along by
the enthusiasm that hits husbands in groceries, about fifty other things that he thought would be nice to
have in the pantry.

The creaking old grocer scribbled down the prices on a shopping bag and began painfully to add them
up while Julio was telling me how well the Porto Bello was doing and how they were thinking of renting
the adjoining store.

"Seventeen dollars, forty-two cents," the grocer said at last.
 Julio flicked one glance at the shopping bag and the upside-down figures. "Should be seventeen
thirty-nine," he said reprovingly. "Add up again."

The grocer painfully added up again and said, "Is seventeen thirty-nine. Sorry." He began to pack the
groceries into the bag.

"Hey," I said.

We didn't discuss it then or ever. Julio just said: "Don't tell, Beel." And winked.