The Green Revolution by Ralph McInerny Page A

by Miriam, wearing a disapproving look not unlike Father Carmody’s. Iggie fought the impulse to pour out his troubles to the priest. This wasn’t the place or the time. He must do that, however, before he headed home.
    â€œIt starts with quo, ” he prompted.
    Father Carmody recited the line then. Murmuring it over and over, not wanting to lose it, Iggie headed for the door. Outside, on the lawn, addressing some constellation he couldn’t have named, he shouted the Ciceronian line to the stars. The night air had the odd effect of making him feel drunk. He was drunk. Whoops, here it comes. He bent over and retched helplessly, managing to miss his trousers but not his shoes.
    When he was sure it was over, he plunged back inside, looking for the bathroom.
    â€œYou left your glass.”
    The giant again. Iggie took the glass, full to the brim. A hair of the dog. This was more like a pelt. A belt. He was laughing as he headed for the bathroom.
    A very bedraggled dentist looked out at him from the mirror. Are you really drunk if you know you are? Thank God he had been outside when he threw up. He blamed it all on the loss that afternoon. He liked a drink, sure, but getting drunk was not in his repertoire. It was being back on campus that explained it, that and the loss to Boston College. It had taken Iggie years to like Doug Flutie, the first BC quarterback to have humiliated Notre Dame.
    Iggie slipped out of his loafers and rinsed them off in the sink. Good as new. He had trouble slipping into them again, but he managed. Don’t underestimate good old Iggie Willis. He picked up his drink and left the bathroom. The giant seemed to be waiting for him.
    â€œWintheiser,” he replied when Iggie asked him who he was.
    Wintheiser! Pearl’s husband. As Iggie thought of returning to the bathroom and locking the door, he put on his glasses. This guy was two heads taller and had the body of a linebacker, but then that is what he had been. Wintheiser was nodding.
    â€œI didn’t recognize you in clothes.”
    Nothing. Just a steely stare.
    â€œThe locker room? The club? When you threatened me?”
    â€œDid I threaten you?”
    How in the hell could he put this? Take your wife, I’m through with her? “Look,” he began.
    Wintheiser put up a hand, a huge hand; he could have gripped Iggie’s head in it like a football.
    â€œYou’re right,” Iggie said with relief. “Let bygones be bygones. What did you think of the game?”
    â€œI think they ought to fire the fans.” No change of expression, no twinkle in the eye. He looked at Iggie as if there were something on his face. He dabbed with his handkerchief. There had been something on his face.
    â€œI threw up,” he explained to Wintheiser.
    â€œNow you have your second wind.”
    That turned out to be true. He took a long pull on his drink and found it bracing.
    â€œI’ve got to sit down.”
    â€œYou drive here?”
    â€œOn a game day? You’re kidding.”
    â€œWhere you staying?”
    â€œThe Morris Inn.”
    â€œI’ll take you there.”
    â€œLeahy’s would be better than this.”
    â€œYou got everything?”
    â€œYou know, George, I’m glad we got together like this. I’ve wanted to call. The trouble is, what could I say?”
    Outside there was an electric cart, and Wintheiser helped him get into the passenger seat.
    â€œWhere did you get this?”
    â€œThe athletic department.”
    Soundlessly the cart began to move. Iggie put back his head and looked at the night sky. This time he didn’t shout the line. Quousque tandem abutere, Catalina, patientia nostra?
    â€œWhat’s it mean?”
    â€œHow long will you abuse our patience, Catalina.”
    â€œWho’s Catalina?”
    â€œAn island off the California coast.”
    Was the guy dumb or something? Still, it was nice of him to offer this ride back to the Morris