'How come you left the bones· this time?' the orderly asked, grinning.

'Who can do a ten-rounder on chicken?' Tony Savo said. But he didn't seem to have his heart anymore in what he was saying. I saw him lie back on his pillow and stare up at the ceiling out of his left eye. Then he closed the eye and put his long hairy hands across his chest.

'We'll lower this for you,' the orderly said to me after he took my tray. He bent down at the foot of the bed, and I felt the head of the bed go flat.

Billy lay back on his pillow. I turned my head and saw him lying there, his eyes open and staring up, his palms under his head, his elbows jutting outward. Then I looked beyond his bed and saw a man hurrying up the aisle, and when 'he came into focus I saw it was my father.

I almost cried out, but I held back and waited for him to come up to my bed. I saw he was carrying a package wrapped in newspapers. He had on his dark gray, striped, double-breasted suit and his gray hat. He looked thin and worn, and his face was pale. His eyes seemed red behind his steel-rimmed spectacles, as though he hadn't slept in a long time. He came quickly around to the left side of the bed and looked down at me and tried to smile. But the smile didn't come through at all.

'The hospital telephoned me a little while ago,' he said, sounding a little out of breath. 'They told me you were awake.'

I started to sit up in the bed.

'No,' he said. 'lie still. They told me you were not to sit up yet'

I lay back and looked up at him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put the package down next to him. He took off his hat and put it on top of the package. His sparse gray hair lay uncombed on his head. That was unusual for my father. I never remembered him leaving the house without first carefully combing his hair.

'You slept almost a full day,' he said, trying another smile. He had a soft voice, but it was a little husky now. 'How are you feeling, Reuven?'

'I feel fine now,' I said.

'They told me you had a slight concussion. Your head does not hurt?'

'No.'

'Mr Galanter called a few times today. He wanted to know how you were. I told him you were sleeping.'

'He's a wonderful man, Mr Galanter.'

'They told me you might sleep for a few days. They were surprised you woke so soon.'

'The ball hit me very hard.'

'Yes,' he said. 'I heard all about the ball game.'

He seemed very tense, and I wondered why he was still worried. 'The nurse didn't say anything to me about my eye.' I said. 'Is it all right?'

He looked at me queerly.

'Of course it is all right. Why should it not be all right? Dr Snydman operated on it, and he is a very big man.'

'He operated on my eye?' It had never occured to me that I had been through an operation. 'What was wrong? Why did he have to operate?'

My father caught the fear in my voice.

'You will be all right now,' he calmed me. 'There was a piece of glass in your eye and he had to get it out. Now you will be all right.'

'There was glass in my eye?'

My father nodded slowly. 'It was on the edge of the pupil.'

'And they took it out?'

'Dr Snydman took it out. They said he performed a miracle.' But somehow my father did not look as though a miracle had been performed. He sat there, tense and upset.

'Is the eye all right now?' I asked him.

'Of course it is all right. Why should it not be all right?'

'It's not all right,' I said. 'I want you to tell me.'

'There is nothing to tell you. They told me it was all right.'

'Abba, please tell me what's the matter.'

He looked at me, and I heard him sigh. Then he began to cough, a deep, rasping cough that shook his frail body terribly. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his lips and coughed a long time. I lay tense in the bed, watching him. The coughing stopped. I heard him sigh again, and then he smiled at me. It was his old smile, the warm smile that turned up the corners of his thin lips and lighted his face…

'Reuven, Reuven,' he said, smiling and shaking his head, 'I have never been good at hiding things from you, have I?'

I was quiet.

'I always wanted a bright boy for a son. And you are bright.

I will tell you what they told me about the eye. The eye is all right. It is fine. In a few days they will remove the bandages and you will come home.'

'In only a few days?'

'Yes.'

'So why are you so worried? That's wonderful I'

'Reuven, the eye has to heal.'

I saw a man walk up the aisle and come alongside Billy's bed.

He looked to be in his middle thirties. He had light blond hair, and from his face I could tell immediately that he was Billy's father. I saw him sit down on the edge of the bed, and I saw Billy turn his face toward him and sit up. The father kissed the boy gently on the forehead. They talked quietly.

I looked at my father. 'Of course the eye has to heal" I said.

'It has a tiny cut on the edge of the pupil, and the cut has to heal.'

I stared at him. 'The scar tissue,' I said slowly. 'The scar tissue can grow over the pupil.' And I felt myself go sick with fear.

My father blinked, and his eyes were moist behind the steel rimmed spectacles.

'Dr Snydman informed me he had a case like yours last year, and the eye healed. He is optimistic everything will be all right.'

'But he's not sure.'

'No,' my father said. 'He is not sure.'

I looked at Billy and saw him and his father talking together quietly and seriously. The father was caressing the boy's cheek. I looked away and turned my head to the left. Mr Savo seemed to be asleep.

'Reb Saunders called me twice today and once last night,' I heard my father say softly.

'Reb Saunders?'

'Yes. He wanted to know how you were. He told me his son is very sorry over what happened.'

'I'll bet.' I said bitterly.

My father stared at me for a moment, then leaned forward a little on the bed. He began to say something, but his words broke into a rasping cough. He put the handkerchief in front of his mouth and coughed into it. He coughed a long time, and I lay still and watched him. When he stopped, he took off his spectacles and wiped his eyes. He put the spectacles back on and took a deep breath.

'I caught a cold,' he apologized. 'There was a draft in the classroom yesterday. I told the janitor, but he told me he could not find anything wrong. So I caught a cold. In June yet. Only your father catches colds in June.'

'You're not taking care of yourself, abba.'

'I am worried about my baseball player: He smiled at me. 'I worry all the time you will get hit by a taxi or a trolley car, and you go and get hit by a baseball: 'I hate that Danny Saunders for this. He's making you sick.'

'Danny Saunders is making me sick? How is he making me sick?'

'He deliberately aimed at me, abba. He hit me deliberately. Now you're getting sick worrying about me.'

My father looked at me in amazement. 'He hit you deliberately?'

'You should see how he hits. He almost killed Schwartzie. He said his team would kill us apikorsim.'

'Apikorsim?'

'They turned the game into a war.'

'I do not understand. On the telephone Reb Saunders said' his son was sorry.'

'Sorry! I'll bet he's sorry I He's sorry he didn't kill me altogether!'

My father gazed at me intently, his eyes narrowing. I saw the look of amazement slowly leave his face.

'I do not like you to talk that way,' he said sternly.

'It's true, abba.' \ 'Did you ask him if it was deliberate?'

'No.'

'How can you say something like that if you are not sure? That is a terrible thing to say.' He was controlling his anger with difficulty.

'It seemed to be deliberate.'

'Things are always what they seem to be, Reuven? Since when?'

I was silent.