The Devil's Only Friend by Mitchell Bartoy Page A

me—a sour, tangled man—the room was empty, and I was left with the idea that I should not have involved Ray Federle in the mess I was about to make. He had a woman and kids to think of. I wasn’t clear in my thinking.
    I could see a number of robins and some starlings sitting at the top of the paper birch outside my window. Smoke or mist from somewhere drifted upward and faded into the sky. In the bowels of the hospital something knocked and whined and echoed through the walls. There was melted together the smell of bleach and piss and vomit and a relentless humming that finally lulled me to sleep.

CHAPTER 9
    Wednesday, April 12
    When I woke up she was pressing her kerchief to the side of her nose to keep from having to blow it. Tears streamed down both sides of her face, and she dabbed here and there to keep the water from going down her neck. To my fuzzy eye she seemed to quiver, holding back sobs.
    My effort to speak brought a catch in my throat and a hacking cough. If Eileen had not been just inches away I would have spat the blob of mucus and filth from my mouth. Instead, I just choked it down and clenched my gut to keep from retching.
    She rose and put a hand on my bed rail.
    â€œPete, for God’s sake,” she said.
    â€œGod’s sake nothing,” I croaked.
    She leaned her plump hips against the rail and let her hand come down lightly on my shoulder. She touched my hair and ear and my cheek, and I winced because the touch was something like pain.
    â€œWho could have done such a thing?”
    â€œSome hard fellas.”
    â€œBut why?”
    â€œHell.”
    â€œThey only just called me,” she said. “Why did you wait so long to tell them to call me? I could have come yesterday.”
    â€œI didn’t think about it,” I said. But I was thinking, I never told anybody to call you.
    â€œIt looks bad, Pete.”
    I rolled onto my back and tried to sit up a bit. The pain had subsided but I was getting more and more stiff and swollen. I could barely see because my cheek and brow had puffed up to cover my eye.
    â€œHave you got a mirror?”
    She turned and fumbled with her clutch. Her swooping little hat stayed tight to her head as she bent over; it matched her short coat and her skirt.
    â€œHere—but you shouldn’t…”
    She opened her compact and handed it to me. I couldn’t stretch my arm out far enough to see my whole self, and my hand shook so much that my reflection reeled. They had brought me a new patch for my eyehole, shiny and cheap-looking. Blood vessels had broken all over my face, and the swelling and redness made me look fat and old and dyspeptic. I brought the little mirror so close that I could smell Eileen’s powder, a delicate odor that sharply reminded me of the time I had been close to her. The brown part of my eye looked the same but what had been white was now shockingly red all around, not just bloodshot but strongly and solidly red, like a demon’s eye. The bright light of morning hid nothing. I closed the makeup kit and gave it back to her.
    â€œIt’ll get better, Pete. Things will get better.” She had at least stopped the tears, but worry screwed her face away from how pretty it was.
    â€œIt’s ugly to look at,” I said.
    â€œThe swelling will go down.”
    â€œDid you tell my mother?”
    â€œI’ll go over there today,” Eileen said. “I can bring her by.”
    â€œDon’t say anything to her. Don’t say anything to anyone.”
    â€œAll right.”
    She was still shaking a little. With the kerchief still wrapped around her finger, she clutched at my hand.
    â€œI’m glad you came,” I said. “But you should stay away.”
    â€œHave you fallen into something again?”
    â€œThat’s what it looks like.”
    â€œI have to help you, Pete, if I can. You can see that’s true, can’t you?”
    She had put on a few pounds,