What's in It for Me? by Jerome Weidman Read Free Book Online

tossed it into the urinal and went upstairs again. They were bent over the table, talking and laughing like a couple of high school kids telling each other what they did over the summer vacation.
    â€œListen, folks,” I said very seriously. They looked up at once. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pull out of here in a hurry. My—”
    â€œWhy, what’s the matter, Harry?” Teddy asked.
    I shook my head.
    â€œShe’s not feeling so well,” I said. “In fact, she’s pretty sick. I’ll have to rush right up to the Bronx now. I’ll be sleeping over there all night.”
    â€œGee, that’s too bad,” Teddy said.
    It would be, if it were true.
    â€œWould you do me a favor, Teddy,” I said, “and take Martha to the theatre for me or take her home, whichever she wants?”
    â€œSure,” he said quickly. “I’ll be glad to, Harry.”
    â€œThanks, Teddy.” I turned to Martha. “Hope you don’t mind, Martha, but this is a—”
    â€œOf course not,” she said. “I understand, Harry.”
    â€œWell, so long,” I said.
    â€œSo long,” they said. “Hope she feels all right.”
    The deep interest in their voices was overwhelming.
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    As I left the restaurant and walked to the corner I was going over a list of the fairly good but inexpensive hotels in my mind. Finally, I stopped in a drugstore. I called the New Bedford and spoke to the desk.
    â€œHello,” I said. “I’d like to reserve a single room with a shower for tonight. I’ll be over within an hour. Will you hold one for me?”
    â€œJust a moment, please.” Pause. “Yes, sir. We’ll hold it for you. What name, please?”
    â€œBogen,” I said. “Harry Bogen.”
    â€œA, n, or e, n, sir?”
    â€œE, n,” I said.
    â€œAll right, sir, we’ll have it for you.”
    â€œBe there in an hour,” I said, and hung up.
    I took a taxi to the Montevideo and as I walked into the lobby I almost dropped dead. Seated in one of the swanky and uncomfortable chairs that clutter up the place and that nobody ever uses, was my mother.

5.
    I STOPPED SHORT INSIDE the revolving door and blinked a little. But there was no mistaking the pleasant face with the creases in it, the gray-streaked hair, or the way she sat.
    â€œMr. Bogen!” Charlie called to me from the desk. “Your—”
    â€œOkay, okay,” I snapped at him. “Never mind.” She turned as soon as she heard my voice and her lips puckered into her faintly sarcastic smile. I hurried up to the chair she was sitting in and kissed her.
    â€œHello, Ma,” I said over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
    She didn’t answer for a moment. Then she released me and when I looked at her the faint smile was setting back into place.
    â€œI came down to take a look at you,” she said promptly. “So long you’re not charging admission for that yet, and so long I’m still your mother, I thought I’d come take a look. Like to go to a show with a pass, not a regular ticket. You know?”
    â€œI don’t mean that, Ma,” I said.
    â€œI mean what—?”
    â€œI wanted to see how far it was from Honeywell Avenue in the Bronx to Central Park West,” she said. “How long it took to ride, whether it was such a long hard trip that you couldn’t make it even once in three months without getting, God forbid, sick from it. It’s a very easy trip, Hershie,” she said calmly. “I’m not even tired, even with my bad feet.”
    I bit my lip and spoke in a low voice.
    â€œI been very busy, Ma. I been—”
    â€œI know,” she said. “You’re always very busy. By you to be busy, it’s like by another person, you should excuse me, to go in toilet. You’re busy regular, Hershie.”
    I grinned