Chapter 4 Four

When Crandall got the keys, Louis found his own.It turned out that there was a gap in the car locker, and the little envelope containing the keys had fallen into the wire rack.He produced the key, opened the door, and let the porters carry things into the house.Crandall gave him the other set of keys as well.The key was on an old, tarnished chain.Louis thanked the old man, put the keys in his pocket casually, and watched the porters move the boxes, dressers, wardrobes and other things they had accumulated in the ten years of marriage.Seeing that these things were no longer in their original place, and some of them were going to be thrown away, he thought, it was just a pile of junk in the box. Suddenly, he felt sad and depressed——he thought maybe it was the feeling of homesickness that people say Bar.

"It's kind of like being uprooted and transplanted." Crandall said suddenly beside him, and Louis was a little startled. "As if you've experienced it before," Louis said. "No, I haven't actually experienced it." Crandall snapped a match and lit a cigarette, the flame glowing in the evening shadows. "My dad built that house across the road and brought his wife and child. The child was me, born just in 1900." "Then you—" "83 years old," Crandall said.Louis was relieved that he didn't have to say the word he hated to use.

"You look much younger than 83." Crandall shrugged and said, "I've lived here anyway. I served in World War I, but the closest I've ever been to Europe was Bayana, New Jersey. It was a Dirty place. It was a dirty place even in 1917. I'm glad to be back here. Then I married Norma. I worked on the railroad. We're still here. But here, on the road Delou, I've seen a lot about life. Of course I've seen a lot." The porters stopped at the entrance to the awning, clutching the boxes that bound Louis and Rachel's large double bed. The rope asked: "Mr. Creed, where do we put this?"

"Put it upstairs... wait a minute, I'll take you up." Louis walked towards them, then stopped and looked back at Crandall. "You go up," Crandall said with a smile, "I'll go back and see how your family is doing and bring them back. I'll leave you alone, but moving is thirsty work. I Usually sit on the porch around 9 o'clock and have a few beers. I like to watch the night fall in warm weather. Sometimes Norma and I have a drink. If you want, you can come over." "Okay, maybe I'll come. But don't come looking for me, and don't stay up all night waiting for me—we've had a really messed up day," said Louis, who didn't really want to go at all.Because what would follow would surely be his diagnosis of Norma's arthritis on the Crandall's porch, informally and for free, of course.Louis liked Crandall, with his sly grin, his casual manner of speaking, and his Southern accent.This accent is not stiff at all, but very soft, as if sung slowly.Nice guy, Louis thought.However, doctors are always suspicious of people.It's unfortunate, but sooner or later your best friend will turn to you for medical advice, and the elderly will never stop.

"You don't need an invitation, as long as you know you can come anytime," Crandall said, and in his sly smile Louis felt something that made him feel that Crandall knew what he was thinking. Crandall walks with a straight back and a brisk gait, more like a man in his 60s than someone in his 80s.For the first time, Louis felt a little love for the old man.He watched the old man for a while, then went upstairs with the porter.