Rick returns for Clare, son, gets the bad news, rides north

RICK returns for CLARE, son, gets the bad news, rides north


Rick, no way!.  How are you here?


I caught a favorable wind in Cairo.  Where’s Clare?


Rick, she’s dead.  She died at childbirth, at that upstate Maternity Home that my uncle sent her to.


Goddamn.  Henry, I wrote her back, I told her

“I’ll be back for you and our baby within 2 weeks.”


Yeah, she told me.  She said “Henry, even if they’d let me keep this child, I’m not ready to be a mother.”  She was going to give him up any way, and, well, I guess she did.


I’m going upstate then.  You still got that bike?


Rick, no point.  Look, I went up there with my uncle.  The Mother Superior and the Police Commissioner have a system, see.  They move them like hotcakes up there.  And the troopers don’t cut wannabe fathers any slack.

Where’s your bike?
It’s out back of Ridge’s.  Rick, man, I’m telling you, nothing good comes of the north country, especially when the leaves start to fall.
You got some gas money?  Some gloves?  Still got that jacket of mine?
Be careful, brother. A Navy guy and two USMarahalscame to talk to Alice yesterday.
Rick, with goggles, his dockworker boots, white aviator scarf, jean jacket and workgloves, kickstarts and peels out from Greene Street en route Woodstock as the sun sets.


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