Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (213 page)

"Nothing
seems
to
be
the
trouble,"
said
Andrews. The
doctor
looked
at
Mrs.
Andrews.
''He
has
nightmares,"
she said.

"You
look
a
little
underweight,
perhaps,"
said
the
doctor.
"Are
you eating
well,
getting
enough
exercise?"

"I'm
not
underweight,"
said
Andrews.
"I
eat
the
way
I
always
have and
get
the
same
exercise."

At
this,
Mrs.
Andrews
sat
straighter
in
her
chair
and
began
to
talk, while
her
husband
lighted
a
cigarette.
"You
see,
I
think
he's
worried about
something,"
she
said,
"because
he
always
has
this
same
dream. It's
about
his
brother
Walter,
who
was
killed
in
a
cemetery
by
a drunken
man,
only
it
isn't
really
about
him."

The
doctor
did
the
best
he
could
with
this
information.
He
cleared his
throat,
tapped
on
the
glass
top
of
his
desk
with
the
fingers
of
his right
hand,
and
said,
"Very
few
people
are
actually
killed
in
cemeteries."
Andrews
stared
at
the
doctor
coldly
and
said
nothing.
"I
wonder
if
you
would
mind
stepping
into
the
next
room,"
the
doctor
said to
him.

"Well,
I
hope
you're
satisfied,"
Andrews
snapped
at
his
wife
as
they left
the
doctor's
office
a
half-hour
later.
"You
heard
what
he
said. There's
nothing
the
matter
with
me
at
all."

"I'm
glad
your
heart
is
so
fine,"
she
told
him.
"He
said
it
was
fine, you
know."

"Sure,"
said
Andrews.
"It's
fine.
Everything's
fine."
They
got
into
a cab
and
drove
home
in
silence.

"I
was
just
thinking,"
said
Mrs.
Andrews,
as
the
cab
stopped
in front
of
their
apartment
building,
"I
was
just
thinking
that
now
that Alexander
Hamilton
is
dead,
you
won't
see
anything
more
of
Aaron Burr."
The
cab-driver,
who
was
handing
Andrews
change
for
a
dollar bill,
dropped
a
quarter
on
the
floor.

Mrs.
Andrews
was
wrong.
Aaron
Burr
did
not
depart
from
her
husband's
dreams.
Andrews
said
nothing
about
it
for
several
mornings, but
she
could
tell.
He
brooded
over
his
breakfast,
did
not
answer
any of
her
questions,
and
jumped
in
his
chair
if
she
dropped
a
knife
or spoon.
"Are
you
still
dreaming
about
that
man?"
she
asked
him finally.

"I
wish
I
hadn't
told
you
about
it,"
he
said.
"Forget
it,
will
you?"

"I
can't
forget
it
with
you
going
on
this
way,"
she
said.
"I
think you
ought
to
see
a
psychiatrist.
What
does
he
do
now?"

"What
does
who
do
now?"
Andrews
asked.

"Aaron
Burr,"
she
said.
"I
don't
see
why
he
keeps
coming
into
your dreams
now."

Andrews
finished
his
coffee
and
stood
up.
"He
goes
around
bragging
that
he
did
it
with
his
eyes
closed,"
he
snarled.
"He
says
he didn't
even
look.
He
claims
he
can
hit
the
ace
of
spades
at
thirty
paces blindfolded.
Furthermore,
since
you
asked
what
he
does,
he
jostles
me at
parties
now."