Английский язык с Крестным Отцом
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much."
"Like hell you didn't," Johnny said. "Anyway, forget that, that was a long time ago.
What's with Nino?"
Jules was making a quick examination of heartbeat, pulse and blood pressure. He
took a needle out of his bag and shoved it casually into Nino's arm and pressed the
plunger. Nino's sleeping face lost its waxy paleness, color came into the cheeks, as if
the blood had started pumping faster.
"Very simple diagnosis," Jules said briskly. "I had a chance to examine him and run
some tests when he first came here and fainted. I had him moved to the hospital before
he regained consciousness. He's got diabetes, mild adult stabile, which is no problem if
you take care of it with medication and diet and so forth. He insists on ignoring it. Also
he is firmly determined to drink himself to death. His liver is going and his brain will go.
Right now he's in a mild diabetic coma. My advice is to have him put away."
Johnny felt a sense of relief. It couldn't be too serious, all Nino had to do was take
care of himself. "You mean in one of those joints where they dry you out?" Johnny
asked.
Jules went over to the bar in the far corner of the room and made himself a drink.
"No," he said. "I mean committed. You know, the crazy house."
"Don't be funny," Johnny said.
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"I'm not joking," Jules said. "I'm not up on all the psychiatric jazz but I know something
about it, part of my trade. Your friend Nino can be put back into fairly good shape unless
the liver damage has gone too far, which we can't know until an autopsy really. But the
real disease is in his head. In essence he doesn't care if he dies, maybe he even wants
to kill himself. Until that is cured there's no hope for him. That's why I say, have him
committed and then he can undergo the necessary psychiatric treatment."
There was a knock on the door and Johnny went to answer it. It was Lucy Mancini.
She came into Johnny's arms and kissed him. "Oh, Johnny, it's so good to see you,"
she said.
"It's been a long time," Johnny Fontane said. He noticed that Lucy had changed. She
had gotten much slimmer, her clothes were a hell of a lot better and she wore them
better. Her hair style fitted her face in a sort of boyish cut. She looked younger and
better than he had ever seen her and the thought crossed his mind that she could keep
him company here in Vegas. It would be a pleasure hanging out with a real broad. But
before he could turn on the charm he remembered she was the doc's girl. So it was out.
He made his smile just friendly and said, "What are you doing coming to Nino's
apartment at night, eh?"
She punched him in the shoulder. "I heard Nino was sick and that Jules came up. I
just wanted to see if I could help. Nino's OK, isn't he?"
"Sure," Johnny said. "He'll be fine."
Jules Segal had sprawled out on the couch. "Like hell he is," Jules said. "I suggest we
all sit here and wait for Nino to come to. And then we all talk him into committing himself.
Lucy, he likes you, maybe you can help. Johnny, if you're a real friend of his you'll go
along. Otherwise old Nino's liver will shortly be exhibit A in some university medical lab."
Johnny was offended by the doctor's flippant attitude. Who the hell did he think he
was? He started to say so but Nino's voice came from the bed, "Hey, old buddy, how
about a drink?"
Nino was sitting up in bed. He grinned at Lucy and said, "Hey, baby, come to old
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Nino," He held his arms wide open. Lucy sat on the edge of the bed and gave him a hug.
Oddly enough Nino didn't look bad at all now, almost normal.
Nino snapped his fingers. "Come on, Johnny, gimmee a drink. The night's young yet.
Where the hell's my blackjack table?"
Jules took a long slug from his own glass and said to Nino, "You can't have a drink.
Your doctor forbids it."
Nino scowled. "Screw my doctor." Then a play-acting look of contrition came on his
face. "Hey, Julie, that's you. You're my doctor, right? I don't mean you, old buddy.
Johnny, get me a drink or I get up out of bed and get it myself."
Johnny shrugged and moved toward the bar. Jules said indifferently, "I'm saying he
shouldn't have it."
Johnny knew why Jules irritated him. The doctor's voice was always cool, the words
never stressed no matter how dire, the voice always low and controlled. If he gave a
warning the warning was in the words alone, the voice itself was neutral, as if uncaring.
It was this that made Johnny sore enough to bring Nino his water glass of whiskey.
Before he handed it over he said to Jules, "This won't kill him, right?"
"No, it won't kill him," Jules said calmly. Lucy gave him an anxious glance, started to
say something, then kept still. Meanwhile Nino had taken the whiskey and poured it
down his throat.
Johnny was smiling down at Nino; they had shown the punk doctor. Suddenly Nino
gasped, his face seemed to turn blue, he couldn't catch his breath and was choking for