All Flesh is Grass

Я и одна управлюсь.

— Пива можно?

“Sure thing. Large or small?”

“Make it large,” I told her.

— Ну, конечно. Большую кружку или маленькую?

— Давай большую,  — сказал я.

She brought the beer and went back behind the bar. The place was quiet and restful not elegant, and perhaps a little dirty, but restful. Up front the brightness of the street made a splash of light, but it faded out before it got too far, as if it were soaked up by the quiet dusk that lurked within the building.

Она подала мне пиво и вернулась за стойку.

A man got up from the booth just ahead of me. I had not seen him as I came in. Probably he'd been sitting in the corner, against the wall. He held a half-filled glass and he turned and stared at me. Then he took a step or two and stood beside my booth.

“Brad Carter?” he asked. “Could you be Brad Carter?”

“Yes, I could,” I said.

Рядом за перегородкой поднялся человек. Я не заметил его, когда вошел. Вероятно, он сидел в самом углу, у стены. С недопитой кружкой в руке он обернулся и уставился на меня. Потом шагнул раз-другой и остановился у моего столика. Я поднял голову, но его лицо показалось мне незнакомым.

— Брэд Картер? Да неужто Брэд Картер?

— А почему бы и нет?  — сказал я.

He put his glass down on the table and sat down across from me. And as he did, those fox-like features fell into shape for me and I knew who he was.

“Alf Peterson!” I said, surprised. “Ed Adler and I were talking about you just an hour or so ago.”

Он поставил кружку и сел напротив меня. И тут я узнал эти черты, в которых было что-то лисье.

— Элф Питерсон!  — изумился я вслух.  — Надо же, только час назад мы с Эдом Адлером тебя вспоминали.

He thrust his hand across the table and I grabbed it, glad to see him, glad for some strange reason for this man out of the past. His handclasp was firm and strong and I knew he was glad to see me, too.

“Good Lord,” I said, “how long has it been?”

“Six years,” he told me. “Maybe more than that.