Chapter 30
The day crept like a glacier. The only thing that kept Billy from resenting his parents’ encroachment on the last day of summer were thoughts of the night ahead. The movie had been some silly romantic comedy – the theater half-empty. Billy had closed his eyes and imagined being alone with Shari in Rooster’s tent. What was Rooster going to do come winter, anyway? For lunch, Billy had a pizza burger and had to endure the story of the first time he had ever had one. It was down in Atlantic City when he was a little kid and before the place had become seedy.
“That was the only real vacation we ever had,” said Carol.
“What are you talking about?” asked Frank. “We go to the shore every summer.”
“Yes, but not to a nice hotel and not for an entire week. Do you remember that hotel Billy?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“I should hope so,” said Frank. “It cost enough.”
“Frank! You see, kids, that’s why we never get to go anywhere.”
Billy exerted all his will power not to glance in Justine’s direction. She was the real reason they never went anywhere. Why risk an outburst? And he knew that her therapists cost a fortune.
“It’s funny you’re eating a pizza burger,” said Carol.
Billy braced himself.
“The coffee shop in that hotel. Oh, what was the name?”
“The Holiday Inn?” asked Frank.
“Please, Frank, if it had been the Holiday Inn it wouldn’t be that hard to remember.” She concentrated for a moment and then in triumph said “The Seascape! That was it. Well, the coffee shop sold pizza burgers and Billy ordered one. But when he came he was so disappointed because he thought it would come in slices, like a regular pizza. Do you remember? ‘Mommy, Mommy’ he said, ‘it’s not in slices.’ It was so cute.”
Maybe it was, thought Billy. At least at the time. But he had heard the story a million times. The conversation went into a lull for a few minutes as they ate, but then Billy’s mom valiantly tried once again to spark a conversation.
“Do you know,” asked Carol, “that the streets on the Monopoly game board are named after the streets in Atlantic City?”
This was news to no one.
A few times Billy had been on the verge of helping his mother out, maybe with his own remembrance of “The Big Vacation” but for some reason he was never able to muster enough enthusiasm. Justine spent the day relatively subdued. How much of her behavior was due to the medication was unclear, but they were all thankful there had been no scenes.
Luckily, Billy’s father wanted to call it an early night. They grabbed some McDonald’s on the way home, and his parents were in bed watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show by 9:00 PM. Justine went into her room to commune with Carly Simon.
Billy climbed the stairs to his room and checked the clothes he had previously hid under his pillow. It was too early to change. He sat by his desk and waited for the house to grow silent. It was 9:10. He thought about reading but he knew he couldn’t concentrate, so he put on an album by Dire Straits. He was scared about the night ahead, but not enough to chicken out. If they were caught it would be death. Grounding for life. But then again, it was only a prank. It wasn’t vandalism or anything like that. And it would be so cool to see that frisbee held in mid-loft over the dome. Everybody would wonder who put it there. They’d guess he or Kyle or Rooster would have had something to do with it, but only the gang would know for sure. And if Shari was going to be there as a lookout, then he definitely couldn’t back out. Besides, if they pulled it off and he wasn’t there, he would never forgive himself.
He heard his father rattling around in the kitchen just as he was flipping over his album. It was nearly 10:00 now. He was counting on his parents being asleep before 11:00. Then, he heard his father knocking on Justine’s door. “Justine, honey, it’s 10 o’clock. Time for sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. You need your rest.”
“Can I finish listening to one more song?”
“Ok, one more song, and then it’s time for bed.”
‘Good,’ thought Billy. Things were progressing according to plans. He strummed the air as if he were playing the guitar and hopped around the room. The lead singer was halfway through In the Gallery. Sultans of Swing was their big hit, and it was a cool song, but he liked In The Gallery better. It was about an artist who didn’t use phony gimmicks, was ignored, died poor, and thn was exploited by dealers that the lyrics referred to as vultures. Billy didn’t hear his father climbing the stairs.
“Well, it ain’t Sinatra,” said his dad.
Billy spun around and saw his father standing in the doorway holding a cup of tea. He was wearing cotton pajamas with blue stripes. “Can I come in?” he asked.
“I know. I know. Tomorrow’s school. I’ll turn off my music.”
“It’s not just that,” said Frank, taking a couple of steps into the room. “Your mother and I…” He stopped. “I mean, I think it would be a good idea if we spoke man to man for a bit. We haven’t done that for awhile.”
“Sure,” said Billy. What was he supposed to say? He surreptitiously glanced at the clock on his dresser. He had to figure out a way to cut this short without arousing suspicion.
“Mind if I sit on your bed?”
“No, go ahead,” said Billy. He had turned the stereo off when his father had appeared, and now stood leaning against his desk.
“Why don’t you sit down, too?” asked his dad. “And don’t look so nervous. I’m not about to ground you again.” He offered up a weak smile, and took a sip of his tea.
Billy sat down in his chair and tried to relax. He felt like he had a softball-sized ball of wax in his stomach.
“I know sometimes it’s not easy being Justine’s brother.”
Billy let out a snort.
“Well,” continued his father, “Your mother and I know that it can be tough. This whole suicide thing…” He waved his hand in the air and paused before he said ‘suicide’, and then took another sip of his drink.
Billy nodded his head. “Yeah,” he said.
“Yeah, well…”
The Carly Simon song softly wafting up from the first floor ended, and they were bathed in silence. ‘Get on with it,’ thought Billy.
“I know you’re not thrilled about Justine being in the high school with you this year. I realize she can be embarrassing sometimes, but she is your sister.”
“I know, Dad.”
“I don’t want you to think we expect you to be your sister’s keeper or anything like that, but we don’t expect you to make it worse for her, either. Looking out for her a little bit wouldn’t kill you.”
“I know, Dad,” said Billy. “I will.”
“You know, some day your mother and I won’t be around, and…”
“Dad,” interrupted Billy. His voice squeaked. He hated how high-pitched it got when he was upset.
“Billy, let me finish. You’re growing up. You can have a grown up conversation.”
Billy crossed his ankles and gripped the seat of his chair with both hands. He leaned forward, more because of his tense stomach than because of any desire to concentrate on what his father was saying.
“Justine may never get married. Some day you may be all the family she has. My heart isn’t in the best shape. I could go on for years but I could also kick off tomorrow.”
“Dad!”
“Please, Billy. I’m not trying to scare you, but let me talk.”
His father put the mug he was holding on the floor and repositioned himself on the bed. He was less than a foot away from the pillow, which Billy suddenly noticed had a black sleeve sticking out from underneath it. Billy tried not to look at it.
His father continued. “What I’m trying to say is…What I’m asking you – as an adult – is to please look out for her. I know your friends are important to you -- and at your age that’s appropriate, I guess – but friends come and go. Justine is your sister. Do you understand?”
Billy tried to mumble that he did understand, but stumbled on the words. He suddenly remembered that the last time he saw the pajamas his dad was wearing was when he was in the hospital. The image of his heart monitor flashed into his head, and he imagined each beating of his father’s heart. And then in his mind’s eye he saw Justine splayed on the floor in front of them, and his mother crying, and he just wanted to say ‘Fuck’em all’ but he couldn’t. The inside of his nose burned as tears came to his eyes.
“Hey, now,” said his father. “I didn’t mean to be melodramatic. Oh, geez.”
“No, no, I’m OK,” said Billy, fighting back the tears.
“You’re sure?” asked Frank.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Billy.
“I only meant to say, keep an eye on her. Help her out a little. She’s your sister.”
“I will, Dad,” said Billy.
“Great,” said his dad, obviously equaling Billy’s relief that their conversation had come to an end. He picked up his mug and stood up.
“In my day, we listened to Sinatra and Vic Damone,” he said. “What was that crap you were listening to?”
“Dire Straits.”
“Well, at least they know what to call themselves.”
Billy rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic chuckle, acknowledging his father’s attempt at humor.
“Good night,” said Frank.
“Good night,” said Billy.
Chapter 31
Billy didn’t start running until he was out of view of his house. He didn’t want to attract any attention. Every sound he had made in the shed retrieving the rope had sounded like a train crash. He had stashed it behind his old Flexible Flyer, which at the time seemed like a good idea, but ended up being a noisy one. He had used extra care waiting for his parents to fall asleep, so he was late. It was already midnight and weighed down by the rope and the clumsy gait it made him run with, he probably wouldn’t get there until a quarter after.
There wasn’t much of a moon but Billy was still surprised at how light it was outside. Midnight had always seemed dark before, but up on that dome he was sure they’d be visible for blocks. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this come the morning.
He hurried on. He knew they couldn’t start without him but he didn’t want them to get worried. Besides, the sooner they were done the sooner he’d be home. As he approached the wooded area behind the football field he saw a flashlight flicker on and off three times. He ducked between the trees to find his friends, dressed in black. Rooster and Kyle even had black knit caps on. “What? No camouflage paint?” asked Billy.
“This is serious business, my man,” said Rooster. “Operation Big Disc.”
“Everybody here?” asked Billy.
“Everybody but Joel,” said Kerry.
‘Good,’ thought Billy. He wasn’t the last one. He glanced at his watch. It was 12:20.
“He’ll know where to find us. I say we move over to the high school. Shari and Kerry can be the lookouts.”
“Hell, no. I’m going up on the roof,” said Kerry.
“Can’t argue with my commando babe,” said Rooster.
“We need someone on each end of Blaine Street,” said Kyle. “That’s the plan.”
“I sewed this monstrosity. I’m putting it up,” said Kerry.
“Don’t start fighting guys,” said Shari.
“Wait! Here comes Joel,” said Darren, who had been peeking out between the trees. He flicked his flashlight and Joel ran to it, panting.
“I’m sorry, guys. I thought my parents would never go to sleep.” He leaned over, holding his side.
“OK, it doesn’t matter. We’re all here now,” said Kyle.
“Right,” said Billy.
“So what’s the plan?” asked Shari.
“OK, here it is,” said Kyle.
The other kids formed a circle around him. Dwight held the lock and cable; Shari had another flashlight. Kerry stood with one hand on the giant frisbee which was folded in half and leaning against a tree. It was much larger than Billy had imagined at about 20 feet in diameter. Even folded up, it stood as high as a basketball hoop. Each semicircle had a frame on the underside made out of dowels that were attached to small holes in the hose that formed the circumference.
Kyle began. “Shari and Joel stand on opposite corners at each end of Blaine Street with a flashlight.”
“Out in the open?” asked Joel.
“Stand behind a tree or something,” said Rooster.
“If you see any cars coming, flick your light three times.”
“What if you don’t see it?” asked Joel.
“For cryin’ out loud!” cried Rooster, taking off his cap and throwing it on the ground.
“One of us will always be watching” said Kyle.
“And the rest of us are going to carry this thing up?” asked Billy, motioning to the giant disc.
“Yeah, why don’t you and Kerry take the cable and ropes, and the four of us – Rooster, me, and the twins – will carry the disc.”
“How are you going to attach it?” asked Billy.
“There’s a place to tie a rope and the cable on the sides that don’t fold. That way when we attach them and stretch it out…”
“We get a giant floating disc!” cried Rooster.
“Shhh!” said Kyle. “And put your hat back on.”
“Sorry,” laughed Rooster in a whisper. He gave Kerry a high five.
“All right, everybody,” said Kyle. He moved to the center of the group and put his arm out with his hand palm side down. Everyone else put their hands on top of his, and they stood in a circle, their arms like the spokes of a wheel. Billy looked across at Shari and she gave him a wink. Billy smiled back, but no one spoke for a moment. The night air was cool, and there was the slightest rustling of leaves. Rooster was the only one who moved, but that was only a small bobbing of the head. His face wore a countenance of determination and delight.
“Let’s do it,” said Kyle, removing his arm and breaking the moment.
They all stepped back. Darren gave Kerry the cable, and the eight of them emerged from the woods, giant frisbee in tow.
“Split up,” said Kyle.
Joel gave a nod of affirmation and started jogging toward the east end of Blair Street. Shari flicked her flashlight and then started walking in the opposite direction, toward the library. The others moved in a mass towards the back of the school.
The doorway into the boys’ locker room had an awning big enough for about four people to stand on at once. If you used a fire hydrant that came out of the wall of the school as a boost, you could reach the awning and pull yourself up. From there it was only about four feet to the lower roof. Getting up to the lower roof was the most dangerous part of the night in terms of getting caught, Kyle had predicted. Out in the open, hauling up the giant disc he felt they would be at their most conspicuous.
As they reached the high school they heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Hey, guys! What are you doing?”
It was Freddie.
“What the hell are our lookouts doing?” hissed Rooster. He was obviously shaken.
“Looking for police cars,” said Billy. “On the other side of the school. Chill out.”
Rooster clenched his teeth and readjusted his cap. The rest of the kids knelt down by the locker room door and motioned Freddie over to them.
“What’s that?” asked Freddie, pointing to the giant folded frisbee.
“It’s a frisbee,” said Kyle. “Keep your voice down. We’re going to hang it from the dome.”
“Cool!” exclaimed Freddie.
“I said quiet!” said Kyle in a harsh whisper.
“It’s a secret, man,” said Rooster.
“But it’s not round,” said Freddie in a whisper that was barely audible.
“It unfolds,” said Rooster.
“Oh I get it!” said Freddie forgetting to whisper. “Can I help?”
Darren motioned towards the roof. Kyle put his hand up to get him to wait as he said, “No, thanks, Freddie. We’re cool.”
Freddie looked crestfallen. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “I promise.”
“Yeah, like when you got lost?” asked Rooster.
“We’re wasting time,” said Billy. Dwight and Darren nodded, but Freddie stood his ground and pouted. “I promise I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “I promise.”
“It’s all right,” said Billy. “You can help.”
“What are you talking about?” shrieked Rooster.
Darren punched him in the shoulder.
“What was that for?” asked Rooster.
Billy put his rope down and gently took Freddie by the elbows.
“This is really important, Freddie, OK?”
“OK,” said Freddie. He tried to focus on what Billy was about to say.
“Shari is down the street, near the library. She’s looking out for cars. Go find her and help her out. If you see anyone coming, tell her to flash her flashlight three times. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“You can remember that?” asked Billy.
“You bet,” said Freddie, all smiles. “You can count on me!”
He sped off. Billy picked up his rope. “He’ll be fine with Shari,” he said.
“Great,” sighed Kyle. “Now let’s get moving.”
“You’re great with the crazies, aren’t you?” asked Rooster.
“Freddie’s not crazy,” snapped Billy. “And neither is Justine!” He gripped the rope hard enough to feel the bristles bite into his skin.
“Slow down,” said Rooster, holding his hands up in front of him. “Poor choice of words. I was paying you a compliment.”
“Are we going to do this, or not?” asked Billy.
“Right,” said Kyle. “Let’s go.”
Exerting barely any effort, Kyle bounded up on to the awning with Darren close behind. Dwight and Rooster tried to lift the frisbee up to them, but it proved awkward.
“It’s flopping all over the place,” said Rooster.
“It’s cloth and a hose,” said Kerry defensively.
“We can reach it from here if you just slide it over. We’ll pull it up ourselves.”
The boys obliged and Darren and Kyle lifted the frisbee on to the awning. Then they scrambled up to the lower roof and pulled the frisbee up after them, as the rest of the gang followed. Inside of a couple minutes they were all on the lower roof, walking to the other side of the dome. From previous excursions they knew there was a ladder bolted to the wall that could take them to the base of the dome.
From the front of the building they could see both ends of Blaine Street. Billy could make out Shari and Freddie standing under a tree across the street from the library, about halfway between two streetlights. He wasn’t able to see Joel, who was probably hiding in a bush or something.
“This is gonna be tough,” said Rooster.
“No, it’s not. The disc isn’t heavy. It’s just awkward,” said Kyle.
Kyle led the way up the ladder, pulling the disc after him with one hand. Darren followed with the bulk of the frisbee on his back, his hands on the same rung as Kyle’s feet. Rooster supported the bottom.
“I’m almost to the top,” said Kyle.
“Wait a second,” said Darren.
“What? What’s the problem?” asked Rooster. “My arms are getting tired. I’m holding them straight up.”
“Just stop for a second. It’s stuck on something.”
“So yank it.”
“No, no. It’ll rip.”
“Should we back up?” asked Kyle.
“No,” said Darren. “I can see where it’s caught.”
“Man, my arms are burning,” said Rooster.
“We’ve been at this two minutes,” said Billy.
“Well, I’m the one with my arms straight up over my head. Ow!”
“Now what?” asked Kyle.
“I banged my knee. Shit!”
“Don’t move!” barked Darren. “You broke one of the dowels.”
“I broke it?” asked Rooster. “How did I break it?”
“Keep cool, guys,” said Kyle from above.
Billy couldn’t believe it. All of their planning and now the three of them were caught squirming under the frisbee like fish scooped up by a giant net, cursing at each other. Billy put down his rope and got on the bottom rung.
“I’ll take it,” said Billy. “You grab the rope.”
Rooster gladly relinquished his hold and jumped down. He picked up the rope, and rubbed his knee.
“Check the lookouts,” said Billy.
“I’m watching,” said Kerry.
“Now what?” asked Rooster.
They stood motionless while Darren grunted and struggled under the frisbee. Billy’s arms grew tired quickly but he didn’t say anything. He stood on the ladder with his arms over his head, holding the bottom of the frisbee, leaning his weight forward into the wall. His cheek was pressed up against Darren’s calf. Soon his upper back started aching, too.
Darren was trying to unhook the frisbee from the cage surrounding a burnt out light that was screwed into the side of the building. He kept shifting his weight and reaching out with his right hand. He kicked Billy in the nose with the back of his heel.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.”
Then, mercifully, he said, “Got it.” Kyle started climbing, and the other boys carrying the disc followed. Rooster and Kerry brought up the rear. Dwight, who had disappeared during the struggle, had found another way up and was standing at the top to help them.
“Man, that was tougher than I thought it would be,” said Rooster.
“Come on,” said Kyle. The next stage could be even more difficult. Someone had to climb up the scaffolding with the rope.
“Should we tie the rope to the frisbee first, or wait until we fasten one end of the rope up there?” asked Kerry.
“It’ll be an easier climb with the rope unattached,” said Kyle, looking up.
“Yeah, but the rope won’t reach all the way down here. How will we fasten it to the frisbee?” asked Kerry.
“Good point,” said Kyle.
Darren took the rope and tied it around the hose at the end of the frisbee. Kerry had left a hole at one end for just that purpose.
“Who wants the honors?” asked Kyle.
“Me, man, me!” said Rooster.
“OK. Dwight, why don’t you go with him? Billy, you and Kerry find a place to anchor the cable.
“Shouldn’t we attach it to the frisbee now, too? Like the rope?” asked Kerry.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” said Kyle.
Out of nowhere, Darren shouted “Car!” The kids all hit the deck. Billy peered over the edge of the wall. He could see Joel’s flashlight flickering on and off madly from the other side of the mailbox. ‘Jesus,’ thought Billy. ‘Stop flashing the stupid light. Can’t you see were down?’
The car rolled to a halt at the stop sign, and Freddie leapt out and started waving his arms, staring straight in their direction. Shari quickly pulled him back towards the tree. The car turned left and drove off. If the driver noticed them, he didn’t show it. “That was close,” said Kyle.
Billy began wondering why they had lookouts in the first place. The only direction they wouldn’t be able to see a car coming was from the backside of the school, down King Street down towards the library. Joel’s post was basically useless, and any car coming towards Shari would have its rear towards them except for a second or two.
“Who is out at this time of the night?” asked Rooster. “They should be home sleeping.”
The kids stood up and got back to work. Kyle brushed some dirt from his pants and Dwight and Rooster began their ascent. Dwight carried the end of the rope wrapped around his wrist. He climbed up the scaffolding like a cat burglar, with Rooster struggling to keep up. Kyle and Darren steadied the disc.
“Let’s look for a place to attach the cable,” said Kerry.
“Right,” said Billy.
A short search of the area yielded a vent that would do the trick. There were several vents. They looked like a row of squat, rectangular periscopes sticking up from the roof.
“Don’t attach it yet,” said Billy. “Let’s wait until Rooster and Dwight tie the other end.”
“Good idea," said Kyle.
Kerry squatted down next to the vent and scanned the street for cars. The little light there was hit the side of her face. Billy hadn’t noticed before how pretty she was. She swung her ponytail over to her other shoulder and revealed a full profile. Dressed in black, tense with anticipation, she radiated sexual energy. He wished it were Shari up there with him. Making love to her on the top of the school would be incredible. He caught himself eyeing Kerry’s chest and felt a pang of guilt. He looked away, hoping she didn’t notice. Billy’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of wood cracking and then a thump.
“Help!” screamed Rooster.
Kerry saw what happened first. Billy caught the fear in her eyes and then spun around to see Rooster hanging on to the scaffolding. One of the wooden planks the workers stood on had broken under Rooster’s weight and he was hanging on for dear life, flailing his legs in a vain attempt to swing himself to safety. Dwight was one level up. The tips of his fingers could just reach Rooster’s hands but he wasn’t close enough to grab hold of him and help him up.
“I’m coming!” cried Kyle. He ran to the scaffolding and started to climb. Dwight lowered himself over the edge of the scaffolding and stood on one of the thin metal pipes that served as a railing. He tied the rope to another pipe and crouched down, holding on for balance.
“Grab my legs,” he said.
“I can’t let go, I’ll fall!” Rooster’s voice was full of panic.
“Help him!” cried Kerry. “Help him for Christ’s sake!”
Kyle was one level beneath Rooster and Dwight was one level above. They could touch him but they couldn’t get a good enough grip to haul him in. Billy looked on helplessly, alternately suspending his breath and then starting it up again with a single sharp gasp.
“Hang in there, buddy” said Kyle.
“I’m scared, man. I can’t hold on. Help me. Please.” Rooster started to cry. His palms started to sweat. The pain in his shoulders was searing. “I can’t hold on!” he screamed.
“Billy, hold this!” screamed Darren. He let go of the giant disc and started to scale the scaffolding. Billy caught the frisbee as it was about to fall over and steadied it. The ridiculous stupid frisbee.
“Rooster, baby, you can do it!” cried Kerry. She was on the verge of crying, too, staring up at Rooster a good thirty feet in the air, dangling over the concrete roof.
Out of the corner of his eye Billy saw the flashlight. Three times and then stop. Three times and then stop. It was Shari. She was signaling there was a car. He couldn’t believe it. On top of everything, now this. “Car!” shouted Billy.
It was the police. Rooster was about to fall to his death. His friends were in full view on the scaffolding and there he was looking down at a police car standing next to a giant, red frisbee. He was frozen. What the hell was he supposed to do? Darren’s voice rang out. “Got him,” he said.
“Like hell you’ve got me,” cried Rooster.
Darren had managed to lean over from the adjacent railing. He had one foot on the railing and one arm wrapped around another pole. With his free hand he had grabbed hold of the waist of Rooster’s jeans.
”Can you reach his ankles?” asked Darren.
“Barely,” said Kyle.
“I’m going to pull you towards me,” said Darren. “You let go and Kyle will catch your legs. I can grab you under your arms as you fall.”
“As I fucking fall?” Rooster screeched.
“What else are you going to do, man?”
He couldn’t hold on much longer anyway.
“OK, here I go.”
“On three,” said Kyle. “One, two, three.”
Rooster let out a squawk and loosened his grip. Darren released his grip on Rooster’s jeans and grabbed at his arm. He caught his sleeve, ripping it, but slowing him down just enough for Kyle to grab him around his knees. Rooster fell over backwards but Kyle hung on. Then, Dwight and Darren scurried down to the level below him and pulled him upside down to safety. It was over in a minute.
Billy and Kerry both started breathing again. They had been looking on transfixed.
“Oh, thank God,” said Kerry.
“I practically wet my fucking pants,” said Rooster. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”
Billy remembered the police car, but when he looked it was gone. Shari was running towards the building. “Are you guys all right? What are you doing up there?” she yelled.
“We’re OK!” shouted Billy. “I’ll tell you later. Rooster almost fell.”
“I could see that. The whole town could’ve seen that,” shouted Shari.
“Why aren’t you hiding?”
“The cops are gone. They were just on patrol. It’s unbelievable but they didn’t see you. I guess they were facing the wrong way.”
Freddie started running towards her.
“You better get Freddie and hide again,” said Billy.
“OK. You’re all right, though?”
“Yes. And Shari?”
“What?”
“I love you!”
“Yeah, right,” she said with a smirk. “And if I kiss you you’ll turn into a prince.” Then she blew him a kiss, took Freddie by the hand, and started heading back. He stared at her as she made her way across the lawn.
“Enough lovey-dovey Rogers,” said Kyle. “Let’s get back to work.”
Dwight and Darren tied the rope to the scaffolding and Kerry fixed the cable.
“It looks like a taco,” whined Rooster. “The middle is sagging.”
“Don’t worry you big baby,” said Kerry playfully. Rooster winced. Kerry stretched out the cable to a vent that was further back so there was more tension. The frisbee flattened out.
“Can you twist it a little so that more of the top is visible from the front of the school?” asked Kyle.
They fiddled with it for awhile and got the orientation they wanted. Then they ran around to the back of the school and descended they way they had come up. Joel, Shari, and Freddie were waiting for them.
“You’ve got to see it!” said Joel. He was practically bouncing up and down. The group of them ran around to the other side of the school. Together they went out onto the front lawn and looked up.
They stood in two rows, like a little choir, but in silence. Joel, Kyle and the twins were in front. The couples were in the back, with their arms around each other. The Slush Man was off to the side, his jaw practically at his knees.
After awhile Joel whispered, ”Wow.”
“Wow does not do it justice, my man. Wow is only the beginning,” said Rooster.
Kerry gave him a peck on the cheek. He maneuvered her in front of him and put his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned her head back against his chest, staring up at their handiwork.
“What’s our next stunt?” asked Joel.
“Please,” said Kyle. “Let’s revel in this one a bit. I can’t wait for tomorrow morning so I can see everyone’s faces. It’ll be awesome. It is the ultimate in Ultimate Frisbee.”
“You know,” said Shari, who had her arm around Billy and her thumb locked in one of his belt loops. “When I first heard this idea I thought it was a little juvenile. That’s what Margaret thought. But she’s wrong. It’s, oh, I don’t know. I think it’s kind of beautiful.”
Billy didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to lose this moment. He wanted to bask in their achievement and the overwhelming feeling of expansiveness it gave him. He stood there, feeling Shari’s torso expand and contract next to his with each breath. He glanced at Rooster. He was a bit of a jerk but Billy had to admit the guy had vision and flair. And staring up into the sky now, with his cap off and his red hair in loose curls around his ears – actually being quiet – he had to admit he could kind of understand what Kerry saw in him. But mostly, he looked up at the frisbee, poised in mid-flight, as if to finish its curving motion around the dome and settle gracefully on to the front lawn of the school.
The administration would take it down tomorrow. School would begin. There’d be a big fuss and then it would fade into legend. There’d be homework and maybe more groundings and of course the continuing saga of Justine and all the impending crises and catastrophes that would entail. But right now he was in mid-flight like that giant red disc, lofting over Jersey.
Chapter 33
The alarm rang and Billy bolted upright. He shut the alarm and then threw himself backwards in bed, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling. The first day of school. The first day of his senior year. His mind was awhirl with a plethora of mixed emotions. On the plus side, he couldn’t wait to see the kids faces when they were confronted with last night’s handiwork. Also, the Food Town job was over, although his father was lobbying hard with his mother than Billy should continue to work some during the school year, at least on weekends. Best of all, he’d be with his friends all day, and while he knew that pretty soon homework would become a drag, he was always excited about the new slate of courses. Other kids bemoaned the fact that they’d have to be waking up early again, but school actually began later than his Food Town job, so he didn’t care about that.
On the negative side, there were the usual things, like the aforementioned homework. And the fact that he couldn’t stay out as late and that pretty soon it would be too dark for after dinner frisbee games. Also, there was the aggravating tendency of the Fairfield High faculty and staff to treat the students like they were in kindergarten. But looming over all negatives this year was the big one. Justine. She’d be accompanying him to school today.
“I don’t want to go to school!” he heard her yell from downstairs. “Let me go back to sleep.”
“Justine, you have to go to school. You’re going to the high school this year. Aren’t you excited? You get to walk with Billy,” said her mother.
“Leave me alone,” said Justine.
Yes, this was going to be great. He rolled over and squeezed his pillow into his face and then came up gasping for air, hurling the pillow at his desk.
“Come on, Justine,” said Carol, “I ‘m going into work late today just so I can see you off. Don’t give me any trouble.”
He heard Justine say, “Fine!” and then he heard two doors slam. Her bedroom and then the bathroom he guessed. The shower came on. Yes, that must have been it.
Then Billy heard his mother’s voice at the bottom of the stairs. “Billy?”
“Yeah, mom, I’m up. I’ll take a shower when Justine gets out.”
“Are you decent?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Can I come up?”
Billy hopped over to his dresser and started pulling on a pair of sweats. “Yeah, come on up.”
He put his pillow back on his bed, and picked up a few stray pieces of dirty laundry and tossed them into the hamper. Then he scanned his desk, searching for anything that might be incriminating or embarrassing. There was nothing.
“Hey there, Senior,” said his mom. “I can’t believe this is your last year at Fairfield High, huh? Pretty soon you’ll be out of here, all grown up.”
Billy tried unsuccessfully not to smile. “I guess,” he said.
“Try not to look too happy about it,” said Carol. Before Billy could protest she smiled and added, “That’s OK. If you weren’t happy about it you wouldn’t be normal.”
“So what’s up?” he asked.
“I just wanted to talk to you before the big first day,” she said.
“Justine?” he asked.
“No, not Justine. Your father spoke with you about that. I don’t have anything to add. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”
Billy flinched a little at this last sentence, which was clearly a request as much as it was an opinion, but mostly he was curious. He was positive another exhortation to be good to his sister was in the offing. Clearly she had something else in mind. He looked at his mother expectantly. She was holding some folded laundry of his which she proceeded to put in his dresser as she spoke.
“Sometimes, Billy. I get a little jealous of you.”
“What?” he asked. Mothers don’t get jealous of their children.
“You’re young. You’re smart. Next year you’ll be going to college. I never went to college. Pretty soon you’ll be leaving Fairfield. You know, I’m not so fond of Fairfield either. I grew up in New York. I’m a city girl at heart.”
“Then why don’t…”
“But Fairfield is a good safe place to grow up. Good schools. The whole shootin’ match.”
She was done putting away the clothes now and was sitting on the chair at Billy’s desk, watching some birds on the window sill.
“You’ve got your whole life in front of you,” she said, and then leaned toward him conspiratorially and whispered, “and without having to deal with you know who every day.”
Billy didn’t say anything. He felt obligated to laugh a little and nod his head knowingly. Where was this conversation headed?
“Billy, you’ve got a lot going for you.”
“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
Upon saying that, she got up and briskly walked out, leaving Billy speechless. He stared at the chair where his mother had been sitting, and then broke out in a broad smile.
“Justine!” he heard his mother yell. “What are you trying to do in there? Use up the whole Atlantic Ocean? Come on, I’ll help you pick out some clothes.”
***********************************************************************
Billy and Justine headed down the hill, past the Quickcheck and towards Fairfield High. The day had finally come. Billy slowed his pace a little so Justine wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. All things considered, he was in a relatively good mood although one laced with apprehension. Anyway, it was hard to think of anything but the giant red disc suspended over Fairfield High. It was all he could do, not to break into a run to get to school.
Poor Justine. At this moment, anyway, he felt sorry for her. She was heading into a lion’s den, and she knew it. Maybe this year the kids would be a little nicer. Maybe if he and his upper class friends looked out for her a little, the kids who knew her would be a little slower when it came to tormenting her. If she could only rein in her bizarre behavior.
“Are you glad school is starting?” asked Justine.
“Kind of. It’s either school or the Food Town.”
“Billy, do you love me?”
“What?”
“I said, do you love me?”
He knew what he should say, but why was it difficult to get the words out? It was true. He knew that he did love her. He just resented being asked, being put on the spot. ‘I just want to be left alone,’ he thought. It was the smart thing to do. Just say you love her. It wasn’t lying. Still, the words stuck in his throat.
“Well, do you?” she said, her voice with the slightest trace of its familiar edge.
He looked down at her. Her hair was pulled back with two big flower barrettes. She had on a puffy shirt and a denim skirt. She looked ridiculous. Her mother had tried to get her to wear something else but she refused. She was dressed like she was eight years old. He remember her splayed on the floor, breathing so softly she would have barely flickered the flame on a birthday candle.
“Yeah, Justine. I love you.”
“Really? You love me,” she said trying to reassure herself.
“Yes, I love you! How many times to do you want me to say it? Now, wait until you see what’s at the school.”
Friday, June 12, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Chapters 27 to 29
Chapter 27
It was a couple hours from daybreak when Billy arrived home, the scent of Shari’s hair still doing somersaults inside his head. He practically skipped home the last few blocks. As Shari had said, his first experience at intercourse was not exactly an example for the ages, but it would only get better over time. And he was sure there would be a next time. Somehow, magically, he had found Shari.
The whole day epitomized what summer should be. The Grok. Shari. Warm summer nights.
“A modern-day Beach Blanket Bingo,” Rooster had called the Grok. “A glorious rest stop in the space time continuum.”
After Billy dropped Shari off at her house he had been too worked up to go straight home. He did a couple of laps around the north end of town so by the time he arrived at his house he was emotionally and physically spent.
He was taken off guard, therefore, when he came through the side door to find his parents awake in their robes, sitting at the kitchen table drinking Sanka. His mother had been crying. When they saw him come in, she looked away, but his father leaned back in his chair and gave him a steely-eyed stare.
‘Now what?’ thought Billy. ‘Can’t they let me have one night to myself?’
“Are you aware, young man,” said his father, “what time it is?” He put his mug down. Billy watched the steam rising lazily from it.
“I said,” repeated his dad, “Do you know what time it is?”
Billy leaned against the wall. Not again. He wanted to yell at them, ‘Of course I know what time it is? Do you think I’m an idiot!’ but said, “It’s almost three.”
“It’s after three!” shouted his dad.
“Stay calm, Frank,” said his mother.
“Calm? How can I stay calm? You’re mother was worried sick about you.”
“I thought you’d be asleep,” said Billy.
“Sit down,” said Frank.
“I’m OK here,” said Billy, though he could barely stand on his feet. He stopped leaning against the wall, though, and put his hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, awaiting the worst.
“I said, sit down!”
Billy slowly pulled the chair out from the kitchen table and sat on the edge of it. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought. He grabbed the salt shaker that was on the table, and rolled it between his palms.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” said his father.
“What?” Billy mumbled.
“What? What do you mean, ‘what’? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Billy tried to speak in measured tones. “I was out with my friends. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s the last weekend of the summer.”
He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed. Please God, he couldn’t take another lecture.
“It’s after three o’clock in the morning!” yelled his dad.
Billy sat there silent. ‘OK,’ he thought, ‘We’ve established what time it is.’
“After all we’ve been through I think you’d have a little common courtesy. And put that salt shaker down!”
Billy put it back and gripped the edge of the table. Bile started seeping up his throat.
“What are we supposed to think? Your mother was worried sick about you. You think she’d have enough to worry about with Justine. Is it too much to not have to have her worrying that you’re lying dead in the middle of the road somewhere?”
“I’m fine,” said Billy.
“I don’t know what’s happening to you Billy,” said his mother.
“You should have been working this weekend anyway, instead of partying with those hippie friends of yours,” said his dad.
“I worked all summer,” said Billy. “School starts on Tuesday. I didn’t want to work the last weekend.”
“Because you are a spoiled brat!”
“I work more than most of my friends!”
“Oh, that’s saying a whole hell of a lot,” let out Frank, bitterly.
Billy’s face was flushed. He picked up the salt shaker again and started rapidly tossing it from hand to hand. His father followed it with his eyes.
“Can I go to bed?” Billy asked harshly.
“Not yet. I’m not through with you yet,” said his father.
“What do you want from me?” said Billy in a high pitched voice, suddenly fighting off the tears. ‘Do not cry,’ he commanded himself. ‘Whatever you do, do not cry.’
“Maybe to show some responsibility,” said his mother.
“Oh, oh, oh,” said Billy. He was fuming but he knew they could see he was close to tears, too, and he absolutely didn’t want to come off like a little kid. “I work all summer, I look after Justine…Just give me a break, OK? There’s a hell of a lot of kids doing a hell of a lot worse than me!”
“Don’t curse at your mother!” said his dad, while Carol rolled her eyes and simultaneously added, “Oh, that makes me feel reassured!” She went to refill her coffee.
“Maybe you need to be grounded again,” said his Dad.
Billy slammed the salt shaker on the table. “You can’t do that!” he yelled, surprised at his own forcefulness. “This is the last weekend of the summer. I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t come home drunk. I wasn’t caught stealing. So I stayed out a little late. So big deal!”
He fought to regain his composure, but there were still some tears sliding down his face. Angrily he wiped them away.
“You know you’re practically a man,” started Frank.
“And some day I’ll be dead!” Billy shouted. “And what then?”
“Oh, please,” said Carol, “Don’t be so melodramatic. Your father and I are going to be lying cold in our graves for a long time before you die. You’ve got your whole life in front of you.”
“Yeah, and one more year before I’m out of here!” said Billy. He pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “I’m going to bed now, OK?”
His father slammed his fist on the table. “How dare you! You little snot!”
“Frank, calm down,” said Carol. “See what you’ve done, Billy, you’re going to give your father a stroke.”
The vein that ran alongside his father’s forehead was standing out now in bold relief. Seeing it and imagining the blood coursing through it took the steam out of Billy’s anger. A vision of his dad in the hospital bed flashed in his head. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he asked meekly.
“We need to know we can rely on you, Billy. When we’re gone it’s just going to be you and Justine. We need to know you can think about someone other than yourself,”said Carol.
“Is that what this is all about?” asked Billy.
“No, this is about a seventeen year old boy, living in his parents house, staying out all hours of the night – without calling—and scaring the devil out of his mother. And then,” said Frank, practically sneering, “And then waltzing in here, slamming down salt shakers, and announcing that he can do anything he damn pleases!”
“I though you would be sleeping,” said Billy, in measured tones. He wasn’t crying anymore. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Well, I’m sorry you see it that way,” said his mother.
“Can I go to bed now?” asked Billy.
“Yes, you can go to bed,” said his father.
Billy started towards the stairs, but his father stopped him.
“Only one more thing,” he said. “When your sister comes home, I don’t want to have to deal with any of your…your…” He was searching for the word. “Shenanigans! It’s going to be tough around here and I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
“Then don’t,” Billy hissed under his breath.
“What did you say?” asked his father.
“You won’t,” said Billy.
“I hope not,” said Frank.
“Look, Billy, I know this has been hard on you, but you have to understand it’s been a lot harder on us. We’re Justine’s parents. You’re right. You’re leaving after this year, but for us Justine will never really leave. I only hope when you get older that you’ll be there for us and for your sister.”
Billy stared down at the toe of his sneaker, which was burrowing into the linoleum floor. He couldn’t look at his parents. They were right but they were wrong, too. They were overreacting.
“We love you, Billy,” said Carol.
“Let him go to bed!” snapped Frank. “He doesn’t want to hear all this.”
“Why are you making such a big deal of this?” asked Billy. He spoke in a thin voice. “All that happened was that I stayed out a couple of hours later than usual.”
“You’re always out. You’re never home,” said Carol.
“Neither are any of the other kids,” said Billy.
“I don’t care about them,” said his mother. “I care about you.”
He was desperate to escape to his room. He couldn’t take this anymore. It always went around and around in circles. They were always making a big deal over everything. You would think with Justine trying to kill herself that they would gain a little perspective, but no. They were still on his back.
“Can I go to bed now?” he asked, softly.
“Yes, go upstairs,” sighed Carol. She picked up her and her husband’s mugs as Billy quickly muttered goodnight and ran up to his room. He shed the clothes from his body and slunk into bed. Within seconds he was fast asleep.
Chapter 28
When Billy was in elementary school, he was a voracious reader. Story books, biographies of Paul Revere and Abraham Lincoln and other boyhood heroes, and science books. His parents were delighted when he read books about biology or the human body because Billy said he was going to be a doctor when he grew up.
“My son the doctor,” Frank would say with a broad smile on his face and the obligatory tussling of Billy’s hair. Frank and Carol hadn’t even gone to college, but they were intent on Billy and Justine getting a good education.
“My son’s not going to end up busting his back like my father did or end up like me kissing asses all day while people haggle over the price of sewage supplies.”
“What do you do for your job, Daddy?” Billy had asked.
“I sling sludge.”
“Frank!” said Carol.
“OK, I sling the stuff that cleans up the sludge.”
“Your father sells chemicals that help us keep our water clean, Billy,” said his mom. “It’s a very important job.”
When he was younger, his mom had only said that Daddy went to work to make money. Billy imagined his father standing in front of a gigantic machine that noisily pressed out nickels from huge sheets of metal. In his mind, the newly minted nickels would make a tremendous clattering sound as they poured into large bins. His father would wheel away the shiny mounds away to waiting trucks that would bring them to all the banks. Billy could practically feel the shiny coins flow like liquid between his fingers. To him, it seemed like the greatest job in the world.
***********************************************************
One day Billy had been reading a pamphlet called A Doctor Talks to Nine-Year Olds that he had secretly brought home from the pediatrician’s office the last time he went for a check-up. He was only eight years old, but he often read books meant for older kids. Upon reading the pamphlet later in his room, he was surprised to discover that it was all about where babies came from. This wasn’t news to him. He had actually read some other books in the library that alluded to the mysteries of sex and had even shown pictures of fetal development. Still, there seemed to be many gaps in his reading material. Key information was missing.
“Dad,” he had asked.
“Yes, Billy.”
“Could you tell me something? I know where babies come from.”
His father put down his paper and paid closer attention. He cleared his throat and tried to appear matter-of-fact.
“I know that babies grow inside the mom’s uterus, and that they come from when a sperm meets an egg.”
“That’s right,” his father had said, mildly surprised. They hadn’t spoken about this before. Frank had not thought he was ready.
“But what I don’t know is, how does the sperm know who you are married to?”
“What?”
“I mean, what if your wife is in California but you are in New Jersey. How does the sperm find your wife’s egg?”
Frank had been slightly flustered. This talk was coming sooner than he had expected, and Billy was an odd mixture of precocious and naïve. He gave it a try. “Well,” he said, “the sperm comes out of the man’s penis and goes into the, uh, well, the woman’s vagina.”
He swallowed hard when he said the last word. It was OK to use the word “vagina” even though Billy was eight. Right? Sure. It must be. They had used it while bathing Justine. Billy knew what a vagina was.
“It happens when they are together in bed,” Frank explained.
‘Of course,’ thought Billy. How stupid of him.
“But how does it go across the sheet and find the woman?”
“No, no,” said his Dad. He was messing this up. He was sure of it. “The man puts his penis into the woman’s vagina.”
“Oh.”
This had never occurred to Billy. It had been in none of the books. They only mentioned that the sperm comes from the man, leaves his penis, and then fertilizes the egg. It made sense, now that his father had explained it, but it seemed kind of gross.
“Are they awake when it happens?”
His father was somewhat stunned and rendered more than a little uncomfortable, but he managed to retain his footing.
“Yes,” he said. “They’re awake.”
“Oh,” said Billy. But he guessed that if you wanted a baby, then that was something you just had to do. Nobody ever explicitly told him that this activity was actually supposed to be an enjoyable one.
That was the last conversation he ever had with his father about sex, with one exception. His mother had once approached him when he was sixteen and asked him to go to his father for advice. She had come home from work with groceries, and Billy had helped her sort them and put them away. As usual, she had the radio station tuned to WNEW which played old standards from the 30s and 40s. Billy always thought it was odd that his mom listened to older music. She had graduated high school in the 50s. Why didn’t she listen to Elvis?
“Want some pudding?” she asked.
“Before dinner?”
“Why not? You’re a growing boy. Lack of an appetite doesn’t appear to be a problem for you.”
“OK. Sure.”
“Chocolate or butterscotch?”
“Chocolate.”
On the lower shelf in the refrigerator, in two neat rows, were glasses half-filled with either chocolate or butterscotch pudding. Carol had made a big batch the night before that was meant to last a few days.
Billy sat down at the table, and Carol placed a glass in front of him with a spoon. He dug into it, polishing it off with a few quick gulps. Carol sat across from him nursing a glass of butterscotch.
“You know, Billy,” she said offhandedly. “Your father would be really happy if you went to him with any questions you might have.”
“About what?”
He licked the inside of the glass with his tongue, trying to scoop up every morsel he could.
“Billy, please. Stop that. You can have another one after dinner.”
He thought about taking one more quick lick, but decided against it.
“About girls,” she said.
Billy put down the glass. “Girls?” he asked.
“Yeah. You know you’re getting older and you might have some questions.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. He picked the glass up and then returned it to the table. His mind quickly began searching for an excuse to leave or at least a believable change in subject.
“But you must be thinking about it,” said his mom, trying to give the impression that what she was saying carried no great import. Billy figured she must have rehearsed this in her own mind. If he wasn’t so flummoxed he might even feel sorry for her. “And your father doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking,” she added, taking a spoonful of pudding.
“I really don’t have any questions.”
“Well, maybe that’s true. But…”
She got up and dumped out the rest of her pudding and started washing both her glass and Billy’s.
“Could you hand me that spoon?” she asked.
“Sure.”
He leapt out of his seat and gave her the spoon, thinking it might give him a chance to exit, but his mother started talking again before he could leave.
“To be honest with you, Billy. I think your Dad is sad that you don’t come to him. I think he thinks that you don’t feel comfortable talking to him about these things.”
‘You’ve got that right,’ thought Billy.
“I think it would be a nice thing,” she continued, “even if you don’t have any real questions, if you just made some up and asked him. You’d be giving him the best kind of present possible if you did.”
“Just make up a question?”
“Yeah. Show him you can talk to him.”
“About what?”
“There must be something you don’t already know. Maybe something you’re curious about,” she suggested.
Billy stared down at the floor, and made a few half-hearted attempts at a response. This was not going to be pleasant.
“Think about it,” said his mother.
Billy nodded and then ran up to his room. Later that night he asked his Dad a few questions, for his mom’s sake. They discussed whether blue balls was a real phenomenon. His father had said yes, but nowhere near the extent that Billy’s friends made it out to be. Billy also asked how you knew when a girl wanted to be kissed. He received the answer he expected – “You’ll know when it happens – but he was not satisfied. He had been hoping for something a bit more practical. How do you know that you’ll know when it happens. What if you don’t? It would be stupid to ask, “Can I kiss you?” That would be so dorky.
The next evening the whole family was watching television together. His mom had brought in some pretzels and put them down in front of Billy. As she did so, she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink. He was pleased to make her happy. The ordeal hadn’t been quite as bad as he thought it was going to be. However, it did re-enforce that he could never do that again. All he could think of the whole time they were talking was that they both had penises. And one thing was certain. Billy didn’t want to know what his father did with his, and what Billy did with his own was definitely private.
Chapter 29
Billy laid out his black jeans and black T-shirt at the end of the bed. Actually it was the Rolling Stones concert shirt but he could wear it inside out. Kyle had told him to meet the others, dressed in black, in the woods at the edge of the football field at midnight. Then they would go over their assignments. People had been preparing for weeks.
‘If it hadn’t been for that Food Town job,’ thought Billy, ‘I wouldn’t have had any black pants.’
It was Monday morning, the day before the first day of school. The day before Billy’s last year of school. High school, anyway. He had thought he would want to luxuriate in the day – soak in the last few hours of freedom, while at the same time secretly excited about getting back into the routine of being with everyone all day and even going to classes. He was taking AP physics and calculus this year and though he may not admit it to Kyle and Rooster, he thought that was going to be pretty cool.
Like a sword hanging over his head, however, was Justine. Shari told him not to worry about her, that his friends would understand and even look out for her. He wasn’t convinced. Besides, he didn’t want everything to revolve around her. He didn’t want to have to think about her that much, to placate her and explain her to his friends. And there were bound to be incidents, embarrassing ones, maybe even scary ones. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t want to have that much responsibility. He didn’t want to have to report to his parents and he didn’t want to feel that if something bad happened that he should have known what was going on and done something to prevent it.
Billy rubbed the denim of his black jeans between his fingers. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to keep these clothes out in the open. He shoved them under his pillow. If his mom came in his room – although she wasn’t supposed to – she might ask questions.
He went downstairs to breakfast and poured himself a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes, and flipped on the radio. His parents were off picking up Justine. They’d be home soon and they told him they wanted him there when they returned. In the meantime, the house was his.
Justine was originally going to be in the hospital a few more days, but she was supposedly doing well and Dr. Chow thought it was important she be at school the first day. The first day. Tomorrow! Billy buried his head in his hands. He knew the day would eventually come, but the cold, hard reality of it all was hitting squarely in the gut.
“It’ll be OK,” he said aloud. “It can’t be as bad as I think.” He was not convinced.
He emptied the remainder of the cereal box into his bowl and pulled down an unopened one from the cabinet. Then he filled his bowl with milk and drained what was left in the container with a few big gulps.
Tonight would be awesome. At first the plan had seemed ridiculous, and incriminating on top of that, but they had won him over. “They are going to know it’s us,” Billy had said. “Is that smart?”
“I was worried about that, too,” Kerry had said.
“They’ll know it had something to do with us freaks,” said Rooster. “But if we aren’t caught in the act they can’t pin it on anybody in particular. Besides, it’s not destructive or anything.”
“So we meet at midnight,” said Billy. “Who’s bringing the frisbee?”
“Kerry,” said Kyle. “She’s been in charge of constructing it.”
“Exactly how big is it?” asked Billy.
“It’s twenty feet across,” said Kelly. “But it folds in half. And it’s light, we made it out of sheets. We sewed a hose into the rim to help it keep its shape.”
“And it looks like an official ultimate disc?” asked Billy.
“You bet,” said Kerry.
Rooster gave her a hug and planted a wet kiss on her forehead.
“It’s spectacular,” said Kyle. “It’s the same shade of red and it’s got Whammo, 165 grams, and all that stuff written on it.”
“You got the rope, right?” asked Kerry.
“Yeah. I got just what you asked for. It’s hidden in my shed,” said Billy. “Do you think it will be enough?”
“Dwight and Darren are also bringing a cable,” said Kerry.
“How are you going to suspend it?” asked Billy.
“You’ll see,” said Kyle. “There will be six of us on the roof. The four of us and the twins. Susan, Shari, and Joel will be lookouts.”
“Shari?” asked Billy.
“Yes, Shari,” said Rooster. “We’ll tie one rope to one end of the frisbee and attach it to the top of the dome. The other end we’ll attach to one of the vents on the roof using the cable and a lock. That way they can’t just cut it down right away.”
“When the kids show up for school, there will be this beautiful red frisbee suspended in mid loft over Fairfield High,” laughed Kyle.
“Spectacular!” shouted Rooster.
None of them could keep from smiling, although Billy hoped he wasn’t the one who would have to climb to the top of the dome. Heights made him skittish. But that was hours away. A whole excruciating day. A day his parents presumably wanted to be a ‘family day’. He wasn’t going to complain, though. He needed to lull his mom and dad into complacency so he could sneak out that night.
The white Buick Wildcat slowly lumbered up the driveway. Through the window Billy could see the three of them in the car. When they got out, his mother started brushing some crumbs off of Justine’s shirt. Then she licked her fingers and used her spit to clean off some dirt on her daughter’s face. Justine grimaced slightly and turned away.
‘Leave her alone,’ thought Billy.
He cleared the table and started washing his dishes. He didn’t want them to think he had been waiting by the window for their return. Shortly he heard the three of them come through the kitchen door. The dull thud of Justine’s suitcase as she dropped it on the floor signaled their arrival.
“We’re back,” said Carol. Her voice had a slight lilting quality to it. Billy wondered whom she was kidding. “Justine, honey, why don’t you unpack your bag and make yourself at home?”
“I’m tired.”
“OK, then,” said her mother, trying to maintain her lilt, “How about if you just bring it to your room and lie down for awhile.”
Justine blew a short burst of air between her lips, making them vibrate slightly. Without acknowledging her mother she walked deliberately to her room, her arms hanging loosely by her side. As she passed Billy he let out a murmur of greeting which she ignored. He turned off the spigot and started drying his dishes.
“Well, she’s a bundle of sunshine,” he said.
“Give her a break,” said Carol. “It’s been hard on her and she is still on medication.”
Frank sat down at the table and said, “She forgot her suitcase.” He looked at it for a couple seconds, shook his head, and said, “Carol, could you make me a sandwich?”
“It’s only eleven. And why don’t you make your own sandwich.”
He didn’t respond, but only picked up the newspaper that was on the chair next to him and started reading. Billy put his dishes away and contemplated escape. “Can I go now?” he asked.
“No,” said Frank, without looking up.
“Billy,” said his mom, “This is the last day of the summer. Justine’s home, and I thought it would be nice if we spent the day together. You know, a real family day. We haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
“OK,” said Billy. He knew that objecting would be futile, and his mother was trying hard, even if it was pointless. Justine was Justine after all and no family day was going to change that. “What are we going to do?”
“Let Justine rest a bit, and then we’ll have lunch and maybe all go out to a movie.”
“Well, until she wakes up, I’ll be in my room,” said Billy.
Carol cleared her throat. “I don’t think she’s asleep yet,” she said. “I think it would be nice if you went in there and said ‘Hello’. You know, make her feel welcomed home. You can take her suitcase with you when you go.”
“I said hello. She didn’t even respond.”
“Please, Billy.”
“Do what your mother asked,” said Frank, turning a page.
Billy thought of the night ahead. He knew he better play it low key if he was going to sneak out later. Besides, saying ‘hello’ to Justine was the right thing to do. “All right,” he said. “But she might kick me out.”
“Give her a chance,” said Carol.
Billy retrieved the suitcase and went over to her door. It was closed. He hadn’t been back in her room since that day. The prospect of going in there and seeing her asleep, splayed out on her bed did not thrill him. He knocked tentatively, hoping for no response.
“Who is it?” she asked through the doorway.
“It’s me,” said Billy. “I’ve got your suitcase.”
There was silence.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Do what you want,” she said.
Billy slowly opened the door and peeked in.
“Don’t worry,” said Justine. “I haven’t taken any pills. Except for that crap that Dr. Chow makes me take.”
“I just brought your suitcase,” said Billy. He put it down by her closet. He still couldn’t get over her room. Who would think a person with a mountain of stuffed animals would try to kill herself? Someone with music boxes and ballerinas and walls filled with posters of puppies and those stupid little cartoon kids with the huge eyes and sappy sayings underneath. She was thirteen but she had the room of a six year-old. You would think the room of someone who had tried to commit suicide would be filled with black and Ann Sexton poetry, not pinks and Hallmark sentimentality.
Justine was laying face down with her arms hanging over the head of the bed. She didn’t have her music on, which was strange. Billy stood near the door but couldn’t bring himself to leave. He really should say something to her. “Well, um, welcome home,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Justine. She spoke the word with a mixture of sarcasm and weariness. It was half muffled by her pillow. Her life really was miserable, he supposed. And he doubted she was thrilled by the prospect of going back to school tomorrow.
“Are you, uh, feeling better?”
Justine rolled over on to her side so she could see his face. She seemed jaundiced. “Why do you care?” she asked.
“What are you talking about? I’m your brother.”
“Oh, so you have to care. What if you weren’t my brother?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you weren’t my brother would you still care about me?”
Billy knew this was a loaded question. The muscles in his head started constricting around his skull. He wanted to avoid a blow up. “I wouldn’t know you the same way, Justine. If I knew you, then I would care.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?” Before he could answer she added, “Do you think I’m smart?”
Billy forced out a “yes.” Why was it hard to say that? She wasn’t bad looking, he supposed. She didn’t do well in school, but she wasn’t dumb. Not the way she could twist anything anybody said into whatever it was she wanted to fight about.
“You’re lying,” she said.
“I am not.”
“You don’t care about me. You won’t even let me be with your friends.”
So they were back to this again. How many times did he have to explain it? She was right, of course, about his wanting her to keep her distance, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care about her.
“Didn’t I save your life?” he asked.
“Oh, thanks a lot,” she said facetiously and buried her head back in her pillow.
“What do you mean?” said Billy, starting to grow angry. “I saved your life! Do you really think being dead is better?”
“Better than this, maybe.”
“Bullshit! Don’t give me that.”
Justine sat up. “Don’t yell at me,” she said. “See, you don’t care about me.” She felt oddly vindicated. “I’m home from being locked up and you start yelling at me.”
“What do you want from me, Justine? I saved your life. I came in here with your suitcase to welcome you home. You’re the one who scared the hell out of me.”
“You’re mad at me for trying to kill myself?”
Billy felt stupid. He felt petty. He knew this was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. It was like standing on a bridge looking down into the water from a great height. It was scary and it made his stomach queasy but there was this urge from deep within to just climb up on the railing and step off.
“Yes, I’m mad. You scared me. You scared mom and dad.”
Justine bounced off the edge of her bed and started walking in circles around the room. Billy closed the door and braced himself. In a loud whisper he said, “Calm down, Justine.”
“Why should I calm down? I can’t do anything right. I tried to kill myself and you just get mad.”
Billy had what he thought was a flash of insight. He walked over to her but she hunched her shoulders and moved away. “I wouldn’t have gotten mad if I didn’t care,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been so scared if I didn’t care. Why do you think Mom and Dad put you in that hospital? Why do you think they pay so much money to Dr. Chow every week?”
“He is worthless!”
“They are trying to do something. They are trying to help you somehow. Don’t you want to be helped?”
“I don’t need any help.”
“You don’t need any help?” Billy let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t need any help? You tried to commit suicide!”
Justine collapsed on the bed and started crying softly. Billy knelt down at her feet. He wanted to take her hand or comfort her in some way, but it was too awkward. It would be forced, and she would know it. Justine could spot something phony from a mile away. “Justine, I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She faced the wall and tried to control her sniffles.
“Do you want a unicorn?” he asked, holding one out to her. She grabbed it and tucked it under her arm but she still didn’t look at him. Instead, she drew her legs up underneath her and started rocking gently. Billy struggled for the right words.
“I know your life sucks sometimes.”
Justine let out a “Hmmf” and kept rocking.
“But it’s better than it was, right? You used to flip out all the time. You used to fail tests and stuff. You used to hear voices in your head, but you don’t anymore.”
“I miss my voices.”
“Really?” He was not convinced.
“Really!”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But you are getting better, and you’ve got like 60 or 70 years left to live. I bet most of them will be good even if the next few aren’t.” He tried not to think that no matter how long, life would end -- no matter what.
She was silent for a moment. He could tell she was thinking.
“You think so?” she asked.
“I think so,” said Billy. At least he hoped so. “And kids are getting older and more mature. They won’t pick on you as much in high school as in middle school. Do you know what the teachers call middle school? They call it the middle zoo.”
“Can I eat lunch with you and your friends?”
“What?” A twinge of panic ran through him.
“I said, can I eat lunch with your friends?”
Her eyes were full of tears. The unicorn sat on her lap. It’s eyes, too, stared up at him, unblinking. They were huge black eyes partially obscured by the tuft of lilac colored hair on its forehead. He had no choice and he knew it. It would be awful, but what else could he say?
“Yeah, of course. You can eat with me and my friends.”
“And can I walk to school with you?”
“Yeah, sure, but when we get there I’m going to hang out at the Senior door.”
“Can I go with you to parties?”
Billy stood up and pulled at his hair. “No,” he whined. He took a step towards the door and then spun to face her. “Come on, Justine. They’re my friends and I just need to be with them sometimes. Don’t push it. You can eat with us, but…Just don’t push it.” With any luck she’d have a different lunch period.
“All right,” she said grudgingly. He wasn’t expecting her acquiescence to come quite so quickly. “Do you mean it?” asked Billy.
“You think I’m a liar?” she asked in an accusatory tone.
“No, no,” he said, quickly. “I believe you.”
Of course he didn’t. He knew damn well that she’d push the limits. He knew damn well that she was going to flip out and embarrass him. But if he didn’t give her a chance, then how could he live with himself.
“Come on,” he said. ”We’re going to the movies. It’s family day.”
Justine groaned.
“Family day?” she asked. “This should be a barrel of laughs.”
“Tell me about it.”
It was a couple hours from daybreak when Billy arrived home, the scent of Shari’s hair still doing somersaults inside his head. He practically skipped home the last few blocks. As Shari had said, his first experience at intercourse was not exactly an example for the ages, but it would only get better over time. And he was sure there would be a next time. Somehow, magically, he had found Shari.
The whole day epitomized what summer should be. The Grok. Shari. Warm summer nights.
“A modern-day Beach Blanket Bingo,” Rooster had called the Grok. “A glorious rest stop in the space time continuum.”
After Billy dropped Shari off at her house he had been too worked up to go straight home. He did a couple of laps around the north end of town so by the time he arrived at his house he was emotionally and physically spent.
He was taken off guard, therefore, when he came through the side door to find his parents awake in their robes, sitting at the kitchen table drinking Sanka. His mother had been crying. When they saw him come in, she looked away, but his father leaned back in his chair and gave him a steely-eyed stare.
‘Now what?’ thought Billy. ‘Can’t they let me have one night to myself?’
“Are you aware, young man,” said his father, “what time it is?” He put his mug down. Billy watched the steam rising lazily from it.
“I said,” repeated his dad, “Do you know what time it is?”
Billy leaned against the wall. Not again. He wanted to yell at them, ‘Of course I know what time it is? Do you think I’m an idiot!’ but said, “It’s almost three.”
“It’s after three!” shouted his dad.
“Stay calm, Frank,” said his mother.
“Calm? How can I stay calm? You’re mother was worried sick about you.”
“I thought you’d be asleep,” said Billy.
“Sit down,” said Frank.
“I’m OK here,” said Billy, though he could barely stand on his feet. He stopped leaning against the wall, though, and put his hands on the back of one of the kitchen chairs, awaiting the worst.
“I said, sit down!”
Billy slowly pulled the chair out from the kitchen table and sat on the edge of it. ‘Here we go again,’ he thought. He grabbed the salt shaker that was on the table, and rolled it between his palms.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” said his father.
“What?” Billy mumbled.
“What? What do you mean, ‘what’? What do you have to say for yourself?”
Billy tried to speak in measured tones. “I was out with my friends. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s the last weekend of the summer.”
He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed. Please God, he couldn’t take another lecture.
“It’s after three o’clock in the morning!” yelled his dad.
Billy sat there silent. ‘OK,’ he thought, ‘We’ve established what time it is.’
“After all we’ve been through I think you’d have a little common courtesy. And put that salt shaker down!”
Billy put it back and gripped the edge of the table. Bile started seeping up his throat.
“What are we supposed to think? Your mother was worried sick about you. You think she’d have enough to worry about with Justine. Is it too much to not have to have her worrying that you’re lying dead in the middle of the road somewhere?”
“I’m fine,” said Billy.
“I don’t know what’s happening to you Billy,” said his mother.
“You should have been working this weekend anyway, instead of partying with those hippie friends of yours,” said his dad.
“I worked all summer,” said Billy. “School starts on Tuesday. I didn’t want to work the last weekend.”
“Because you are a spoiled brat!”
“I work more than most of my friends!”
“Oh, that’s saying a whole hell of a lot,” let out Frank, bitterly.
Billy’s face was flushed. He picked up the salt shaker again and started rapidly tossing it from hand to hand. His father followed it with his eyes.
“Can I go to bed?” Billy asked harshly.
“Not yet. I’m not through with you yet,” said his father.
“What do you want from me?” said Billy in a high pitched voice, suddenly fighting off the tears. ‘Do not cry,’ he commanded himself. ‘Whatever you do, do not cry.’
“Maybe to show some responsibility,” said his mother.
“Oh, oh, oh,” said Billy. He was fuming but he knew they could see he was close to tears, too, and he absolutely didn’t want to come off like a little kid. “I work all summer, I look after Justine…Just give me a break, OK? There’s a hell of a lot of kids doing a hell of a lot worse than me!”
“Don’t curse at your mother!” said his dad, while Carol rolled her eyes and simultaneously added, “Oh, that makes me feel reassured!” She went to refill her coffee.
“Maybe you need to be grounded again,” said his Dad.
Billy slammed the salt shaker on the table. “You can’t do that!” he yelled, surprised at his own forcefulness. “This is the last weekend of the summer. I didn’t do anything wrong! I didn’t come home drunk. I wasn’t caught stealing. So I stayed out a little late. So big deal!”
He fought to regain his composure, but there were still some tears sliding down his face. Angrily he wiped them away.
“You know you’re practically a man,” started Frank.
“And some day I’ll be dead!” Billy shouted. “And what then?”
“Oh, please,” said Carol, “Don’t be so melodramatic. Your father and I are going to be lying cold in our graves for a long time before you die. You’ve got your whole life in front of you.”
“Yeah, and one more year before I’m out of here!” said Billy. He pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “I’m going to bed now, OK?”
His father slammed his fist on the table. “How dare you! You little snot!”
“Frank, calm down,” said Carol. “See what you’ve done, Billy, you’re going to give your father a stroke.”
The vein that ran alongside his father’s forehead was standing out now in bold relief. Seeing it and imagining the blood coursing through it took the steam out of Billy’s anger. A vision of his dad in the hospital bed flashed in his head. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he asked meekly.
“We need to know we can rely on you, Billy. When we’re gone it’s just going to be you and Justine. We need to know you can think about someone other than yourself,”said Carol.
“Is that what this is all about?” asked Billy.
“No, this is about a seventeen year old boy, living in his parents house, staying out all hours of the night – without calling—and scaring the devil out of his mother. And then,” said Frank, practically sneering, “And then waltzing in here, slamming down salt shakers, and announcing that he can do anything he damn pleases!”
“I though you would be sleeping,” said Billy, in measured tones. He wasn’t crying anymore. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Well, I’m sorry you see it that way,” said his mother.
“Can I go to bed now?” asked Billy.
“Yes, you can go to bed,” said his father.
Billy started towards the stairs, but his father stopped him.
“Only one more thing,” he said. “When your sister comes home, I don’t want to have to deal with any of your…your…” He was searching for the word. “Shenanigans! It’s going to be tough around here and I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
“Then don’t,” Billy hissed under his breath.
“What did you say?” asked his father.
“You won’t,” said Billy.
“I hope not,” said Frank.
“Look, Billy, I know this has been hard on you, but you have to understand it’s been a lot harder on us. We’re Justine’s parents. You’re right. You’re leaving after this year, but for us Justine will never really leave. I only hope when you get older that you’ll be there for us and for your sister.”
Billy stared down at the toe of his sneaker, which was burrowing into the linoleum floor. He couldn’t look at his parents. They were right but they were wrong, too. They were overreacting.
“We love you, Billy,” said Carol.
“Let him go to bed!” snapped Frank. “He doesn’t want to hear all this.”
“Why are you making such a big deal of this?” asked Billy. He spoke in a thin voice. “All that happened was that I stayed out a couple of hours later than usual.”
“You’re always out. You’re never home,” said Carol.
“Neither are any of the other kids,” said Billy.
“I don’t care about them,” said his mother. “I care about you.”
He was desperate to escape to his room. He couldn’t take this anymore. It always went around and around in circles. They were always making a big deal over everything. You would think with Justine trying to kill herself that they would gain a little perspective, but no. They were still on his back.
“Can I go to bed now?” he asked, softly.
“Yes, go upstairs,” sighed Carol. She picked up her and her husband’s mugs as Billy quickly muttered goodnight and ran up to his room. He shed the clothes from his body and slunk into bed. Within seconds he was fast asleep.
Chapter 28
When Billy was in elementary school, he was a voracious reader. Story books, biographies of Paul Revere and Abraham Lincoln and other boyhood heroes, and science books. His parents were delighted when he read books about biology or the human body because Billy said he was going to be a doctor when he grew up.
“My son the doctor,” Frank would say with a broad smile on his face and the obligatory tussling of Billy’s hair. Frank and Carol hadn’t even gone to college, but they were intent on Billy and Justine getting a good education.
“My son’s not going to end up busting his back like my father did or end up like me kissing asses all day while people haggle over the price of sewage supplies.”
“What do you do for your job, Daddy?” Billy had asked.
“I sling sludge.”
“Frank!” said Carol.
“OK, I sling the stuff that cleans up the sludge.”
“Your father sells chemicals that help us keep our water clean, Billy,” said his mom. “It’s a very important job.”
When he was younger, his mom had only said that Daddy went to work to make money. Billy imagined his father standing in front of a gigantic machine that noisily pressed out nickels from huge sheets of metal. In his mind, the newly minted nickels would make a tremendous clattering sound as they poured into large bins. His father would wheel away the shiny mounds away to waiting trucks that would bring them to all the banks. Billy could practically feel the shiny coins flow like liquid between his fingers. To him, it seemed like the greatest job in the world.
***********************************************************
One day Billy had been reading a pamphlet called A Doctor Talks to Nine-Year Olds that he had secretly brought home from the pediatrician’s office the last time he went for a check-up. He was only eight years old, but he often read books meant for older kids. Upon reading the pamphlet later in his room, he was surprised to discover that it was all about where babies came from. This wasn’t news to him. He had actually read some other books in the library that alluded to the mysteries of sex and had even shown pictures of fetal development. Still, there seemed to be many gaps in his reading material. Key information was missing.
“Dad,” he had asked.
“Yes, Billy.”
“Could you tell me something? I know where babies come from.”
His father put down his paper and paid closer attention. He cleared his throat and tried to appear matter-of-fact.
“I know that babies grow inside the mom’s uterus, and that they come from when a sperm meets an egg.”
“That’s right,” his father had said, mildly surprised. They hadn’t spoken about this before. Frank had not thought he was ready.
“But what I don’t know is, how does the sperm know who you are married to?”
“What?”
“I mean, what if your wife is in California but you are in New Jersey. How does the sperm find your wife’s egg?”
Frank had been slightly flustered. This talk was coming sooner than he had expected, and Billy was an odd mixture of precocious and naïve. He gave it a try. “Well,” he said, “the sperm comes out of the man’s penis and goes into the, uh, well, the woman’s vagina.”
He swallowed hard when he said the last word. It was OK to use the word “vagina” even though Billy was eight. Right? Sure. It must be. They had used it while bathing Justine. Billy knew what a vagina was.
“It happens when they are together in bed,” Frank explained.
‘Of course,’ thought Billy. How stupid of him.
“But how does it go across the sheet and find the woman?”
“No, no,” said his Dad. He was messing this up. He was sure of it. “The man puts his penis into the woman’s vagina.”
“Oh.”
This had never occurred to Billy. It had been in none of the books. They only mentioned that the sperm comes from the man, leaves his penis, and then fertilizes the egg. It made sense, now that his father had explained it, but it seemed kind of gross.
“Are they awake when it happens?”
His father was somewhat stunned and rendered more than a little uncomfortable, but he managed to retain his footing.
“Yes,” he said. “They’re awake.”
“Oh,” said Billy. But he guessed that if you wanted a baby, then that was something you just had to do. Nobody ever explicitly told him that this activity was actually supposed to be an enjoyable one.
That was the last conversation he ever had with his father about sex, with one exception. His mother had once approached him when he was sixteen and asked him to go to his father for advice. She had come home from work with groceries, and Billy had helped her sort them and put them away. As usual, she had the radio station tuned to WNEW which played old standards from the 30s and 40s. Billy always thought it was odd that his mom listened to older music. She had graduated high school in the 50s. Why didn’t she listen to Elvis?
“Want some pudding?” she asked.
“Before dinner?”
“Why not? You’re a growing boy. Lack of an appetite doesn’t appear to be a problem for you.”
“OK. Sure.”
“Chocolate or butterscotch?”
“Chocolate.”
On the lower shelf in the refrigerator, in two neat rows, were glasses half-filled with either chocolate or butterscotch pudding. Carol had made a big batch the night before that was meant to last a few days.
Billy sat down at the table, and Carol placed a glass in front of him with a spoon. He dug into it, polishing it off with a few quick gulps. Carol sat across from him nursing a glass of butterscotch.
“You know, Billy,” she said offhandedly. “Your father would be really happy if you went to him with any questions you might have.”
“About what?”
He licked the inside of the glass with his tongue, trying to scoop up every morsel he could.
“Billy, please. Stop that. You can have another one after dinner.”
He thought about taking one more quick lick, but decided against it.
“About girls,” she said.
Billy put down the glass. “Girls?” he asked.
“Yeah. You know you’re getting older and you might have some questions.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. He picked the glass up and then returned it to the table. His mind quickly began searching for an excuse to leave or at least a believable change in subject.
“But you must be thinking about it,” said his mom, trying to give the impression that what she was saying carried no great import. Billy figured she must have rehearsed this in her own mind. If he wasn’t so flummoxed he might even feel sorry for her. “And your father doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by asking,” she added, taking a spoonful of pudding.
“I really don’t have any questions.”
“Well, maybe that’s true. But…”
She got up and dumped out the rest of her pudding and started washing both her glass and Billy’s.
“Could you hand me that spoon?” she asked.
“Sure.”
He leapt out of his seat and gave her the spoon, thinking it might give him a chance to exit, but his mother started talking again before he could leave.
“To be honest with you, Billy. I think your Dad is sad that you don’t come to him. I think he thinks that you don’t feel comfortable talking to him about these things.”
‘You’ve got that right,’ thought Billy.
“I think it would be a nice thing,” she continued, “even if you don’t have any real questions, if you just made some up and asked him. You’d be giving him the best kind of present possible if you did.”
“Just make up a question?”
“Yeah. Show him you can talk to him.”
“About what?”
“There must be something you don’t already know. Maybe something you’re curious about,” she suggested.
Billy stared down at the floor, and made a few half-hearted attempts at a response. This was not going to be pleasant.
“Think about it,” said his mother.
Billy nodded and then ran up to his room. Later that night he asked his Dad a few questions, for his mom’s sake. They discussed whether blue balls was a real phenomenon. His father had said yes, but nowhere near the extent that Billy’s friends made it out to be. Billy also asked how you knew when a girl wanted to be kissed. He received the answer he expected – “You’ll know when it happens – but he was not satisfied. He had been hoping for something a bit more practical. How do you know that you’ll know when it happens. What if you don’t? It would be stupid to ask, “Can I kiss you?” That would be so dorky.
The next evening the whole family was watching television together. His mom had brought in some pretzels and put them down in front of Billy. As she did so, she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink. He was pleased to make her happy. The ordeal hadn’t been quite as bad as he thought it was going to be. However, it did re-enforce that he could never do that again. All he could think of the whole time they were talking was that they both had penises. And one thing was certain. Billy didn’t want to know what his father did with his, and what Billy did with his own was definitely private.
Chapter 29
Billy laid out his black jeans and black T-shirt at the end of the bed. Actually it was the Rolling Stones concert shirt but he could wear it inside out. Kyle had told him to meet the others, dressed in black, in the woods at the edge of the football field at midnight. Then they would go over their assignments. People had been preparing for weeks.
‘If it hadn’t been for that Food Town job,’ thought Billy, ‘I wouldn’t have had any black pants.’
It was Monday morning, the day before the first day of school. The day before Billy’s last year of school. High school, anyway. He had thought he would want to luxuriate in the day – soak in the last few hours of freedom, while at the same time secretly excited about getting back into the routine of being with everyone all day and even going to classes. He was taking AP physics and calculus this year and though he may not admit it to Kyle and Rooster, he thought that was going to be pretty cool.
Like a sword hanging over his head, however, was Justine. Shari told him not to worry about her, that his friends would understand and even look out for her. He wasn’t convinced. Besides, he didn’t want everything to revolve around her. He didn’t want to have to think about her that much, to placate her and explain her to his friends. And there were bound to be incidents, embarrassing ones, maybe even scary ones. The truth of the matter was that he didn’t want to have that much responsibility. He didn’t want to have to report to his parents and he didn’t want to feel that if something bad happened that he should have known what was going on and done something to prevent it.
Billy rubbed the denim of his black jeans between his fingers. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to keep these clothes out in the open. He shoved them under his pillow. If his mom came in his room – although she wasn’t supposed to – she might ask questions.
He went downstairs to breakfast and poured himself a heaping bowl of Frosted Flakes, and flipped on the radio. His parents were off picking up Justine. They’d be home soon and they told him they wanted him there when they returned. In the meantime, the house was his.
Justine was originally going to be in the hospital a few more days, but she was supposedly doing well and Dr. Chow thought it was important she be at school the first day. The first day. Tomorrow! Billy buried his head in his hands. He knew the day would eventually come, but the cold, hard reality of it all was hitting squarely in the gut.
“It’ll be OK,” he said aloud. “It can’t be as bad as I think.” He was not convinced.
He emptied the remainder of the cereal box into his bowl and pulled down an unopened one from the cabinet. Then he filled his bowl with milk and drained what was left in the container with a few big gulps.
Tonight would be awesome. At first the plan had seemed ridiculous, and incriminating on top of that, but they had won him over. “They are going to know it’s us,” Billy had said. “Is that smart?”
“I was worried about that, too,” Kerry had said.
“They’ll know it had something to do with us freaks,” said Rooster. “But if we aren’t caught in the act they can’t pin it on anybody in particular. Besides, it’s not destructive or anything.”
“So we meet at midnight,” said Billy. “Who’s bringing the frisbee?”
“Kerry,” said Kyle. “She’s been in charge of constructing it.”
“Exactly how big is it?” asked Billy.
“It’s twenty feet across,” said Kelly. “But it folds in half. And it’s light, we made it out of sheets. We sewed a hose into the rim to help it keep its shape.”
“And it looks like an official ultimate disc?” asked Billy.
“You bet,” said Kerry.
Rooster gave her a hug and planted a wet kiss on her forehead.
“It’s spectacular,” said Kyle. “It’s the same shade of red and it’s got Whammo, 165 grams, and all that stuff written on it.”
“You got the rope, right?” asked Kerry.
“Yeah. I got just what you asked for. It’s hidden in my shed,” said Billy. “Do you think it will be enough?”
“Dwight and Darren are also bringing a cable,” said Kerry.
“How are you going to suspend it?” asked Billy.
“You’ll see,” said Kyle. “There will be six of us on the roof. The four of us and the twins. Susan, Shari, and Joel will be lookouts.”
“Shari?” asked Billy.
“Yes, Shari,” said Rooster. “We’ll tie one rope to one end of the frisbee and attach it to the top of the dome. The other end we’ll attach to one of the vents on the roof using the cable and a lock. That way they can’t just cut it down right away.”
“When the kids show up for school, there will be this beautiful red frisbee suspended in mid loft over Fairfield High,” laughed Kyle.
“Spectacular!” shouted Rooster.
None of them could keep from smiling, although Billy hoped he wasn’t the one who would have to climb to the top of the dome. Heights made him skittish. But that was hours away. A whole excruciating day. A day his parents presumably wanted to be a ‘family day’. He wasn’t going to complain, though. He needed to lull his mom and dad into complacency so he could sneak out that night.
The white Buick Wildcat slowly lumbered up the driveway. Through the window Billy could see the three of them in the car. When they got out, his mother started brushing some crumbs off of Justine’s shirt. Then she licked her fingers and used her spit to clean off some dirt on her daughter’s face. Justine grimaced slightly and turned away.
‘Leave her alone,’ thought Billy.
He cleared the table and started washing his dishes. He didn’t want them to think he had been waiting by the window for their return. Shortly he heard the three of them come through the kitchen door. The dull thud of Justine’s suitcase as she dropped it on the floor signaled their arrival.
“We’re back,” said Carol. Her voice had a slight lilting quality to it. Billy wondered whom she was kidding. “Justine, honey, why don’t you unpack your bag and make yourself at home?”
“I’m tired.”
“OK, then,” said her mother, trying to maintain her lilt, “How about if you just bring it to your room and lie down for awhile.”
Justine blew a short burst of air between her lips, making them vibrate slightly. Without acknowledging her mother she walked deliberately to her room, her arms hanging loosely by her side. As she passed Billy he let out a murmur of greeting which she ignored. He turned off the spigot and started drying his dishes.
“Well, she’s a bundle of sunshine,” he said.
“Give her a break,” said Carol. “It’s been hard on her and she is still on medication.”
Frank sat down at the table and said, “She forgot her suitcase.” He looked at it for a couple seconds, shook his head, and said, “Carol, could you make me a sandwich?”
“It’s only eleven. And why don’t you make your own sandwich.”
He didn’t respond, but only picked up the newspaper that was on the chair next to him and started reading. Billy put his dishes away and contemplated escape. “Can I go now?” he asked.
“No,” said Frank, without looking up.
“Billy,” said his mom, “This is the last day of the summer. Justine’s home, and I thought it would be nice if we spent the day together. You know, a real family day. We haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
“OK,” said Billy. He knew that objecting would be futile, and his mother was trying hard, even if it was pointless. Justine was Justine after all and no family day was going to change that. “What are we going to do?”
“Let Justine rest a bit, and then we’ll have lunch and maybe all go out to a movie.”
“Well, until she wakes up, I’ll be in my room,” said Billy.
Carol cleared her throat. “I don’t think she’s asleep yet,” she said. “I think it would be nice if you went in there and said ‘Hello’. You know, make her feel welcomed home. You can take her suitcase with you when you go.”
“I said hello. She didn’t even respond.”
“Please, Billy.”
“Do what your mother asked,” said Frank, turning a page.
Billy thought of the night ahead. He knew he better play it low key if he was going to sneak out later. Besides, saying ‘hello’ to Justine was the right thing to do. “All right,” he said. “But she might kick me out.”
“Give her a chance,” said Carol.
Billy retrieved the suitcase and went over to her door. It was closed. He hadn’t been back in her room since that day. The prospect of going in there and seeing her asleep, splayed out on her bed did not thrill him. He knocked tentatively, hoping for no response.
“Who is it?” she asked through the doorway.
“It’s me,” said Billy. “I’ve got your suitcase.”
There was silence.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Do what you want,” she said.
Billy slowly opened the door and peeked in.
“Don’t worry,” said Justine. “I haven’t taken any pills. Except for that crap that Dr. Chow makes me take.”
“I just brought your suitcase,” said Billy. He put it down by her closet. He still couldn’t get over her room. Who would think a person with a mountain of stuffed animals would try to kill herself? Someone with music boxes and ballerinas and walls filled with posters of puppies and those stupid little cartoon kids with the huge eyes and sappy sayings underneath. She was thirteen but she had the room of a six year-old. You would think the room of someone who had tried to commit suicide would be filled with black and Ann Sexton poetry, not pinks and Hallmark sentimentality.
Justine was laying face down with her arms hanging over the head of the bed. She didn’t have her music on, which was strange. Billy stood near the door but couldn’t bring himself to leave. He really should say something to her. “Well, um, welcome home,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Justine. She spoke the word with a mixture of sarcasm and weariness. It was half muffled by her pillow. Her life really was miserable, he supposed. And he doubted she was thrilled by the prospect of going back to school tomorrow.
“Are you, uh, feeling better?”
Justine rolled over on to her side so she could see his face. She seemed jaundiced. “Why do you care?” she asked.
“What are you talking about? I’m your brother.”
“Oh, so you have to care. What if you weren’t my brother?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you weren’t my brother would you still care about me?”
Billy knew this was a loaded question. The muscles in his head started constricting around his skull. He wanted to avoid a blow up. “I wouldn’t know you the same way, Justine. If I knew you, then I would care.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?” Before he could answer she added, “Do you think I’m smart?”
Billy forced out a “yes.” Why was it hard to say that? She wasn’t bad looking, he supposed. She didn’t do well in school, but she wasn’t dumb. Not the way she could twist anything anybody said into whatever it was she wanted to fight about.
“You’re lying,” she said.
“I am not.”
“You don’t care about me. You won’t even let me be with your friends.”
So they were back to this again. How many times did he have to explain it? She was right, of course, about his wanting her to keep her distance, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care about her.
“Didn’t I save your life?” he asked.
“Oh, thanks a lot,” she said facetiously and buried her head back in her pillow.
“What do you mean?” said Billy, starting to grow angry. “I saved your life! Do you really think being dead is better?”
“Better than this, maybe.”
“Bullshit! Don’t give me that.”
Justine sat up. “Don’t yell at me,” she said. “See, you don’t care about me.” She felt oddly vindicated. “I’m home from being locked up and you start yelling at me.”
“What do you want from me, Justine? I saved your life. I came in here with your suitcase to welcome you home. You’re the one who scared the hell out of me.”
“You’re mad at me for trying to kill myself?”
Billy felt stupid. He felt petty. He knew this was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. It was like standing on a bridge looking down into the water from a great height. It was scary and it made his stomach queasy but there was this urge from deep within to just climb up on the railing and step off.
“Yes, I’m mad. You scared me. You scared mom and dad.”
Justine bounced off the edge of her bed and started walking in circles around the room. Billy closed the door and braced himself. In a loud whisper he said, “Calm down, Justine.”
“Why should I calm down? I can’t do anything right. I tried to kill myself and you just get mad.”
Billy had what he thought was a flash of insight. He walked over to her but she hunched her shoulders and moved away. “I wouldn’t have gotten mad if I didn’t care,” he said. “I wouldn’t have been so scared if I didn’t care. Why do you think Mom and Dad put you in that hospital? Why do you think they pay so much money to Dr. Chow every week?”
“He is worthless!”
“They are trying to do something. They are trying to help you somehow. Don’t you want to be helped?”
“I don’t need any help.”
“You don’t need any help?” Billy let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t need any help? You tried to commit suicide!”
Justine collapsed on the bed and started crying softly. Billy knelt down at her feet. He wanted to take her hand or comfort her in some way, but it was too awkward. It would be forced, and she would know it. Justine could spot something phony from a mile away. “Justine, I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She faced the wall and tried to control her sniffles.
“Do you want a unicorn?” he asked, holding one out to her. She grabbed it and tucked it under her arm but she still didn’t look at him. Instead, she drew her legs up underneath her and started rocking gently. Billy struggled for the right words.
“I know your life sucks sometimes.”
Justine let out a “Hmmf” and kept rocking.
“But it’s better than it was, right? You used to flip out all the time. You used to fail tests and stuff. You used to hear voices in your head, but you don’t anymore.”
“I miss my voices.”
“Really?” He was not convinced.
“Really!”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But you are getting better, and you’ve got like 60 or 70 years left to live. I bet most of them will be good even if the next few aren’t.” He tried not to think that no matter how long, life would end -- no matter what.
She was silent for a moment. He could tell she was thinking.
“You think so?” she asked.
“I think so,” said Billy. At least he hoped so. “And kids are getting older and more mature. They won’t pick on you as much in high school as in middle school. Do you know what the teachers call middle school? They call it the middle zoo.”
“Can I eat lunch with you and your friends?”
“What?” A twinge of panic ran through him.
“I said, can I eat lunch with your friends?”
Her eyes were full of tears. The unicorn sat on her lap. It’s eyes, too, stared up at him, unblinking. They were huge black eyes partially obscured by the tuft of lilac colored hair on its forehead. He had no choice and he knew it. It would be awful, but what else could he say?
“Yeah, of course. You can eat with me and my friends.”
“And can I walk to school with you?”
“Yeah, sure, but when we get there I’m going to hang out at the Senior door.”
“Can I go with you to parties?”
Billy stood up and pulled at his hair. “No,” he whined. He took a step towards the door and then spun to face her. “Come on, Justine. They’re my friends and I just need to be with them sometimes. Don’t push it. You can eat with us, but…Just don’t push it.” With any luck she’d have a different lunch period.
“All right,” she said grudgingly. He wasn’t expecting her acquiescence to come quite so quickly. “Do you mean it?” asked Billy.
“You think I’m a liar?” she asked in an accusatory tone.
“No, no,” he said, quickly. “I believe you.”
Of course he didn’t. He knew damn well that she’d push the limits. He knew damn well that she was going to flip out and embarrass him. But if he didn’t give her a chance, then how could he live with himself.
“Come on,” he said. ”We’re going to the movies. It’s family day.”
Justine groaned.
“Family day?” she asked. “This should be a barrel of laughs.”
“Tell me about it.”
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Chapters 24 to 26
Chapter 24
Billy stood at the end of the hospital hallway, near the stairwell, pretending to read the instructions on the fire extinguisher. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Dr. Chow conferred in hushed tones with his parents. They were standing outside of Justine’s room. His parents were still in their work clothes, but they were disheveled. His mother stood very erect, clutching her purse, but his father was propped up against the doorway like a paper sack. Dr. Chow, of course, was all composed and professional. The crease in his pants was perfect. His peach shirt was starched and a brown silk tie with some kind of cross-hatched pattern in light gold pointed in a clear straight line to his belt buckle.
Billy thought his bearing was totally inappropriate. Dr. Chow was a psychiatrist, right? Justine was his patient. Shouldn’t he have known what was coming? Shouldn’t he feel some remorse, or maybe even a trace of inadequacy or incompetence? Instead, he spoke in soft, reassuring tones while making very controlled and precise gestures. Billy thought it was obscene, but his parents only nodded.
Billy had not been allowed in the room with them when Dr. Chow came to visit, and that really pissed him off. The one time he actually wanted to be included in this family therapy thing and they had sent him out of the room like he was a little kid. He had come to the end of the hall to sulk, but now his curiosity was getting the better of him so he edged his way within listening distance. He stood about ten feet away, running his finger up and down a crease in the wallpaper that covered the top half of the hallway wall, and feigned disinterest.
“I don’t know how she found those pills,” said Carol. “They were in a hidden compartment in the bottom of my jewelry box, under all my necklaces. I purposefully didn’t leave them in the medicine cabinet. I didn’t think that would be safe, but I never thought she’d try to kill herself.”
On the last two words she had a mini-convulsion. She looked away, pressing her handkerchief into the bridge of her nose and hugging her purse to her body. Frank placed his arm on her shoulder but it had no effect.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “If she was determined to find a way to do this, she would.”
She turned almost as if to attack. “But why Frank? Why would she do such a thing? Why would she have no hope?”
“Sometimes, Mrs. Rogers,” started Dr. Chow.
“It was that medication,” interrupted Carol. “She didn’t want that medication in the first place. This is all my fault.”
“Your husband is correct, Mrs. Rogers,” said Dr. Chow. “You should not be blaming yourself.”
Carol raised herself up to her full height of barely over five feet. “Well if it is not her mother’s fault that whose is it?”
Dr. Chow put his hands together as if he were praying. He looked directly into Carol’s defiant gaze. “It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault, Mrs. Rogers. It is natural to feel that way. This is a very difficult situation.”
“Situation?” asked Carol, raising her voice.
Frank turned back towards the room to make sure Justine was still asleep. They had sedated her, of all things, which seemed to make no sense to him after they had to pump the sedatives out of her stomach.
Dr. Chow unclasped his hands and now held them open, thumbs together. It reminded Billy of a football player preparing to catch a pass.
“It is a difficult time,” said Dr. Chow. “But Justine is resting comfortably now, and when we all have time to digest this and talk things through, I am confident that we will be able to help her.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re confident,” said Carol, putting her handkerchief back in her purse and snapping it shut. She was no longer looking at him.
“Carol, honey,” said Frank, trying to be reassuring.
“What, Frank, what?” asked Carol, impatiently. Now she had the strap of the pocketbook over her shoulder and was staring off in the direction of the nurses’ station. Frank turned his attention to Dr. Chow. “We need some time to get our bearings,” he said.
“Exactly,” replied Dr. Chow. “Call my office tomorrow and schedule an appointment, won’t you? And please, if you want to speak with me before then call my direct number any time of the day or night. If I don’t answer, you’ll get my service. They know where to find me.”
“Yes, Doctor, we’ll do that,” said Frank.
Dr. Chow shook Frank’s hand. He gave Billy a quick nod and headed down the hallway in the direction of the elevators. ‘Even the sound of his heels on the floor is annoying,’ thought Billy.
Billy and his parents stood in a little circle for a few seconds.
‘They look old,’ thought Billy. ‘It’s not fair that they have to deal with Justine. It’s not their fault. She’s unbalanced.’
“She’ll be all right, mom,” he said out loud.
Carol came towards him and stroked his hair with her fingers. “You did great, sweetie. You saved her life.”
Billy caught sight of a nurse coming down the hall and gently pulled away. The last thing he wanted was for people to see his mother fussing over him in public.
“You don’t have to keep saying that, Mom. I didn’t do that much.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Without you…” She stifled a sob.
An orderly followed the nurse with an empty stretcher, and the Rogers family moved to the side to let them pass. From the other direction a maintenance man with a belt of tools slung low like a holster clanked his way down the hall.
“I think we’re in the way,” said Frank. “Maybe we should get going. There’s nothing else we can do here, anyway.”
Carol removed a piece of loose thread from her dress. “That’s a good idea. Why don’t you boys grab some dinner. It must be late. Oh my Lord,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s after 9:00. You must be starving. I’ll stay here with Justine. You two go eat.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Frank. “She’s asleep now. She won’t wake up for hours. You must be hungry, too. Come on. We’ll go out and have a nice quiet dinner. Just the three of us.”
“Oh, please. I couldn’t eat a bite. I’ll get a Coke and something from the vending machine and…”
“Carol, what are you going to do – “
“Frank, please,” she said sternly. “I need to be here and you need your rest. Take Billy to get something to eat and leave me with Justine. I’ll be fine.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Really.”
Frank considered saying something else but then relented.
“Well, call me later, OK? I can’t call you here. They won’t accept calls after 9:00, remember?” The vision of Frank lying in intensive care hung in the area between them like a ghost, but only for a moment.
“I’m going to stay all night,” said Carol. “The nurse said she could put a cot in the room. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Fine, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want.”
Billy thought his Dad seemed hurt. He had never seen his parents so ill at ease with one another. It reminded him of being at a middle school dance. His father stretched his back and then cleared his throat, fumbling for an exit line. All he could manage was, “Well, then good night.”
Carol went into Justine’s room. Frank pulled free his already loosened tie and rubbed the back of his neck. He forced a weak smile. “I guess that leaves you and me, Billy-boy,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I suppose I could eat.” Suddenly he was starving.
“Let’s go to that diner on Route 12. Your mother hates that place. We never get to go there.”
“Isn’t the food there really greasy?” said Billy, as they started down the hall.
“You don’t like grease?”
“I mean your heart.”
Frank’s face gave up its attempt at cheerfulness. He shoved his tie into the pocket of his sports jacket, and breathed through his teeth. “You let me worry about that.”
“OK”
Wearily, and in silence, they made their way through the hospital and to their car, which was parked out by the emergency room. The area by the emergency room entrance was lit up almost as bright as day, but with that false, too white light that they have in baseball stadiums.
“You drive, Billy,” said his Dad, handing him the keys.
They got in the Buick Wildcat and Billy slid his hands over the steering wheel. Normally, he would’ve been thrilled. He slipped the key in the ignition and started the engine. His father was slumped in the seat next to him. His eyes were closed and his head was resting against the window. He had his knees pulled together and his feet were tucked in under the front seat. Billy was surprised at how slender and frail his father’s legs were, how small his ribcage was before his torso ballooned slightly at the stomach. It wouldn’t take much to crush that chest. To stop that heart. His father opened his eyes. “Are you going to pull out?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“OK, then.” He closed his eyes again. “Let’s go eat.”
Billy couldn’t tell if his father was sleeping or only feigning sleep to avoid a conversation. He pulled out of the parking more tentatively than usual. He was always a tad nervous driving when his parents were in the car. He could never shake free the feeling that they were evaluating him.
There was a red light at the corner, and while they were stopped Billy counted out the floors on the hospital until he got to the sixth, where Justine and his mother were. They were in the room next to the corner, so it was easy to find. One little rectangle of light in that big grid. Would it really, truly have been worse – he meant in the long run – if Justine had died? One time he had overheard his parents discussing the same thing when Justine had made a previous but very half-hearted attempt on her life. She had cut her wrist with a steak knife but barely drew enough blood to stain a band-aid.
“She is so sad, Frank. It comes out in anger -- sometimes ugly anger -- but she is so sad. It kills me.”
“God forgive me, but sometimes I think –“
“Don’t say that, Frank!” she snapped in horror.
“You never think that?”
“Of course, I think it. But tell me honestly, could you go on living if she did?”
Frank had answered so softly that Billy had needed to strain to hear.
“No,” he said. “No, I couldn’t.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Carol sobbed. “I try so hard, but I can’t help her and then I scream at her, and…”
“Carol, don’t beat yourself up. You’re a great mother. Justine is just…It’s not our fault. It’s just something we have to live with. We just do our best and …”
“And what?”
In Billy’s mind, he could see Carol sitting silently next to Justine’s hospital room, maybe brushing some of that wild hair out of her face. Up in that little corner of the building, in that grid.
“Hey, Billy!” said his Dad. “It’s a green light.”
“Right.”
He drove off to the diner, as his father leaned back against the window and closed his eyes.
Chapter 25
It was the last Saturday of the summer. Labor Day weekend. Billy and his friends descended on the park as the sun was reaching its zenith to begin the final blowouts before the school year began. A small group was busy decorating one of the semi-enclosed picnic areas with ribbons and banners. There were eight picnic tables on a dirt floor, covered by a roof. Three sides were open to the park, the fourth was taken up by a log cabin-style building that had restrooms and a locked storage room used by the park department. Kyle had actually had the foresight to reserve it.
The kids lugged coolers of food and drink and set up the all-important stereo. There was an outlet so they didn’t have to rely on the usual boomboxes, several of which sat silent against the wall. There were a few cars parked by the side of the road with their trunks open and crammed with party supplies.
When the stereo came to life, Kerry put on the soundtrack to Hair and a few of the girls danced out in the sun. They swayed and rolled their heads, their arms reaching towards the sky with long, fluid movements. Their Indian print skirts gave a tease as to the legs beneath. Kerry wore a brightly colored tie-dyed shirt that looked like it had a bulls-eye on her chest.
“What is this?” asked Billy. “Retro-sixties or something?”
“It’s a Grok, man. Read the sign,” said Rooster, in between blowing up some balloons. He pointed at a banner that was hanging at an odd angle from the roof of the picnic area.
“You mean, like, Heinlein?” asked Billy.
“Yeah,” said Rooster, speaking with a long green half-blown up balloon clenched in his teeth. He took it out of his mouth, letting the air out of it. He pointed at Margaret who was standing with them, drinking a beer that was disguised as a Coke. “See, I told you. Billy gets it,” he said.
“Only boys read science fiction,” said Margaret. She took a swig out of her Coke can. “Not very many people know what a Grok is.”
“It’s the ultimate be-in, man” said Rooster.
“Yeah, like I said, it’s retro-sixties. Tell me,” inquired Billy, “Where’s the LSD?”
“Electric Kool-Aid is in the purple cooler,” said Rooster. He tossed a balloon at Billy and blew him a raspberry.
“I was kidding,” said Billy, swatting the balloon back at Rooster.
“Suit yourself,” said Rooster.
“So Billy,” said Margaret, coming towards him. She put her hand on his shoulder and gestured towards the other side of the picnic tables. “There’s somebody waiting for you. You were meeting her here, remember?”
At the base of the tree was Shari. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the roots, listening to Kyle who was gesticulating in a lively manner. Shari laughed. Her hair was wrapped into one long braid that hung down her neck. It reminded Billy of a rope, a rope he wouldn’t mind climbing.
“Don’t’ stand there with your mouth hanging open,” said Margaret. She gave him a little push with her fingertips.
Shari noticed him coming when he was halfway to her, and leapt up to greet him. Kyle stopped talking and watched as they ran to each other and embraced. Shari squeezed him tightly, almost to the point of taking his breath away. He was surprised at her strength. They rocked a little, swaying from one foot to the next in time with the music that was still blaring from the speakers in the picnic area.
“God, I’ve wanted to see you,” said Shari.
“Same here,” said Billy. He dug his face into her hair. She kissed his ear.
They had spoken for hours the night before. Shari had called him the moment she got home from vacation. He spilled his guts to her – the fear, the anger, the sadness, the confusion and the self-doubt. Everything that was in him. He had never spoken to anyone like that before. At first, while he was doing it, he had been afraid that maybe she’d think he was totally messed up, some kind of whining, needy creep, but she hadn’t. And as Shari commiserated with him, he had unleashed more and more of himself until he felt like he had dragged himself free of some sort of emotional rip-tide and was now wading, heavy-legged towards shore.
The next morning with his parents -- all of them sitting sullen and silent around the breakfast table -- had already started pulling him back down. He stared at Justine’s empty seat and wished somebody would say something. Finally, he had asked what they served for breakfast at the mental hospital, but his father had said, “Oh, I don’t know. Eggs Benedict?” And that had been the end of that conversation.
Seeing Shari, though, amidst the music and the celebration of the Grok made him start forgetting all that.
“You look great,” said Billy.
“You’re not so bad,” said Shari. She released him from her grasp and took him by the hand. They slowly meandered around the perimeter of the party. Shari occasionally rested her head on his shoulder. The weight of it felt exquisite.
“I can’t believe how strong you are,” she said.
“What!?” Billy stopped in his tracks and laughed. “Boy, that’s not how I feel!”
“What are you talking about? With all you’ve gone through this summer?”
“Well, it’s only beginning. Once Justine gets out of the hospital and comes to the high school…” His voice trailed off.
“We’ll look out for her,” said Shari.
An errant frisbee landed at their feet. Shari picked it up and tossed it back.
“I don’t know,” said Billy.
“You don’t know what?” asked Shari.
They were almost out of earshot of the music. Billy observed the preparations for the Grok with an air of semi-detachment. The gang was lost in their revelry. They were like a huge, amorphous life form that pulsated with energy. Like one of those amoebas they learned about in biology class. Filled with proteins, enzymes, excretions and goo. A sack of stuff that somehow kept its balance. That somehow worked. And he was integral to it, but superfluous, too. He knew it would go on without him. The gang meant everything to him but in a year it would simply dissipate. And he worried about the virus Justine, and how she would infect it, at least for him.
“It’s not that easy,” said Billy. “Justine’s not that easy to look out for. Believe me.”
“I know. But we’re seniors, man,” she said, taking on the mock inflections of a jock or a cheerleader. “We rule!”
Rooster shut the music off and jumped on top of a tree stump, blowing a kazoo. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he shouted. “Let the Grok begin!”
The kids, including Billy and Shari, surrounded the stump. There were nearly a hundred of them. They were abuzz in anticipation.
“Hold hands in a circle,” said Rooster.
“Like the hokey-pokey?” asked Margaret.
“Shhh,” said Kyle. “Don’t ruin the karma.”
“Please,” said Margaret, but she joined hands and looked up at Rooster, who came off the stump and entered the circle. He motioned to Joel who was standing by the stereo. Joel pressed the play button and hurried to his place. The music started, as the kids recognized the tune, they smiled and joined in.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be
“Oh, wow,” groaned Billy. “This is too sixties.”
“Shut up and be, Rogers!” said Shari, knocking into him with her hip.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Whispering words of wisdom
Let it be
They broke out in song, shouting at the top of their lungs, their heads tilted back and gazing at a perfectly clear, blue sky.
Let it be!
Let it be!
Let it be, oh, let it be!
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be!
The afternoon was glorious. After spirited games of ultimate and hours of dancing they devoured pre-made bologna and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bushels of fruit, mounds of twinkies, and bag after bag of potato chips. Exhausted and satiated they lounged in small groups as an album by Crosby, Stills, and Nash poured out its rich harmonies.
“Mellow music,” said Kyle. “Excellent choice.”
Kerry lay with her head in Rooster’s lap. Billy and Shari sat side by side. Margaret was playing cat’s cradle with Susan, while Joel was unsuccessfully trying to show off tricks with his new Duncan Yo-Yo.
“Needs practice, man,” said Kyle.
“This day was the best,” said Billy.
“Hear, hear,” said Kyle.
“And now for the piece de resistance!” said Rooster.
“What?” asked Billy.
“Well, while you were engaged with arguably more pressing matters,” he began.
“Arguably?” asked Margaret.
Rooster ignored her.
“We have decided upon our legacy.”
Billy perked up. He hadn’t expected anything to come from that. He thought it was the usual verbal game play they engaged in. He still wasn’t convinced that anything was actually going to happen.
“Yes, yes,” said Rooster, seeing Billy’s incredulity.
“Rephrase that,” said Kyle. “It is only the first step. But the first step is important. It sets the tone for the entire year.”
“Exactamundo!” said Rooster. “Therefore, our first gift…”
“Prank,” interjected Margaret.
“Gift,” repeated Rooster, “must be done on Monday night – Labor Day – so that the returning students appreciate this year’s senior freaks.”
“Why can’t I come?” asked Joel. “I’m only a sophomore but I can help.”
“You can be a lookout,” said Kyle, who was stretched out on his back on the grass. He pointed a finger at him. “But only seniors on the dome.”
“That’s cool,” said Joel. He botched a trick and tried to untangle his fingers from the yo-yo string.
“So what is it?” asked Billy, impatiently. “What’s it going to be?”
“We’ll meet in the woods behind the high school at midnight. Wear dark clothes and be ready. Assignments will be given then.”
Billy got up and stood over Kyle. “You are not going to keep me dangling,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
“Wouldn’t it be more fun not to know?” asked Kyle facetiously.
Billy placed his foot on Kyle’s chest, but applied no pressure.
“I take it this is some form of coercion,” said Kyle.
“I’m shocked. Simply shocked,” said Rooster.
Billy starting pressing down hard enough to be felt but not enough to hurt. “I’m serious,” he said, with his hands on his hips.
“Fine! I give up!” laughed Kyle.
Billy removed his foot, and Kyle sat up. The rest of the kids stopped what they were doing and gave him their full attention. “OK, then,” said Kyle. “Listen up.”
Chapter 26
That evening Shari and Billy found themselves walking the streets of Fairfield again. When it started getting dark the gang had loaded everything up, and those with cars drove off. Billy and Shari had gotten a ride with Kyle up to the Central Ave. Burger King and grabbed a bite with some other kids, but then had slipped away when the conversation had turned to a heated debate over whether Star Wars or 2001 was the ultimate science fiction movie.
“I wish we had some place to go,” said Billy.
“Some place private you mean?” asked Shari.
“Yeah.”
“So you could jump my bones?” she asked, her eyes all wide and innocent looking.
“No,” he shot back reflexively, and then blushed. “Well, yes, I guess.”
“I suppose your parents are home?” she asked.
“As always.”
“Mine, too.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and she hooked her thumb in his back pocket. A piece of wax paper blew by in the breeze, and a little kid came toddling after it with a bright pink ice cream cone, half of which seemed to have been smeared across her face. Her older sister scurried after her and grabbed her hand, scolded her gently and led her back to their family who were camped out on the benches in front of the ice cream parlor.
“So where are we going to go?” asked Billy. “The park?”
“Nah, I can’t go to the park again.”
A horn blasted and they turned to see Kyle driving down Central Ave. Rooster was hanging out of the passenger seat window. Someone in the back mooned them.
“Where the hell can we go?” moaned Billy.
“I know,” said Shari. “Isn’t that the number 14 bus? We can take it to downtown Pohasset.”
“Pohasset?” asked Billy. “What is in Pohasset?”
“Nobody we know,” said Shari.
“I’ll race you to the bus stop.”
They ran to the corner and darted across the street. The bus was a stopped a block away and the last person was boarding -- an older man with a cane, holding some sort of package. Shari let out a yelp of despair.
“I’ll hold it for you,” yelled Billy and started pumping his legs hard, arriving at the bus as the doors were about to close. “Can you wait a minute?” he asked in between pants. The bus driver merely looked at him with tired eyes and said, “A half a minute.” Just then Shari grabbed Billy by the arm, yanked him out of her way, and leapt on to the bus.
“Come on, Rogers,” she said, trying to hide how out of breath she was. “The bus doesn’t have all day.” She deposited some coins in the fare box.
“You son of a …” said Billy, laughing and jumped up beside her. The driver closed the door with a sigh, said, “Sit down” and pulled out into traffic, shaking his head.
Billy followed Shari down the aisle and the two of them commandeered the back seat. He immediately put his arms around her and started kissing her neck.
“Not here,” she said, pushing him away. “Save that stuff for Pohasset.”
It was then Billy noticed several sets of eyes upon them, and turned his customary crimson red. The old man with the package gave him a disdainful sneer and then repositioned himself so he could stare out the window.
“Where are we going to go once we get there? There’s no place private there,” whispered Billy.
“Is that all you think about, Rogers?” laughed Shari. She looked down her nose at him trying to appear haughty.
“You big tease,” said Billy.
Her demeanor quickly turned serious. “Don’t call me a tease. That’s like one of the worst things you can say to a girl. Talk about spoiling the mood.”
“What?” asked Billy. He was totally confused. Hadn’t they just been playing?
“Never mind.” Shari turned her attention to the traffic moving beneath them out of window. Somehow the mood had been broken.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked Billy. “I thought we were just… I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
She let him suffer for a couple of seconds and then said, “Forget it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I said forget it.”
When they got to the courthouse in Pohasset, Shari said, “Let’s get off here” and they exited the bus. Although not as happy as before his faux pas, she didn’t seem to be upset anymore so Billy thought it was best to ignore their moment of tension, carefully filing away a “do not say tease” rule into his long-term memory.
The courthouse was an old building with lots of granite and two impressive columns in the front. It was all lit up at night, but it was basically deserted. Another couple walked arm in arm down the street and a homeless guy sat on a bench wearing a couple of coats and nursing a whiskey bottle half hidden by a paper bag. Billy and Shari started down a path that cut through the courthouse grounds.
“So how’s Justine doing?” asked Shari.
Billy immediately felt the tension enter his chest. It was like cold streaks in his lungs. He put his head back and looked up at the sky. The moon was nearly full and it was partially obscured by some deep purple clouds. Almost like a postcard.
“Huh?” asked Shari.
“Oh, I don’t know. How is Justine ever, really? I don’t understand her. But I guess she’s doing better. She’s a lot calmer, I suppose. But that’s probably the medication.”
“You never told me what it was like to find her.”
Billy stopped walking. They were on the side of the courthouse now, under some elm trees that were dying of some disease. He bent down and plucked a lone dandelion from the lawn and started pulling out its petals, staining his fingers yellow. Shari waited patiently.
“Have you ever seen a dead person?” he asked.
“My grandmother. At her funeral. She was lying in her casket in this silver dress.”
“Didn’t it freak you out to see her?”
“It was sad, but it was peaceful.”
“But you weren’t freaked out?”
“What do you mean? I knew she was dead.”
Billy flung the dandelion down in exasperation, and tugged at his hair. “But she used to be alive and now she wasn’t,” he said. “She had thoughts and feelings. She had, well, I mean she had …an existence. And then you saw her in this coffin and she was just a lump of flesh.” His eyes were wide now and he was trying to hold off his panic. He had an almost pleading expression on his face.
“She wasn’t just a lump of flesh,” said Shari. “She was alive in our memories. In what she did in life.”
“Oh, come on!” said Billy, annoyed. “Do you really mean that? Do you really believe that?”
Shari was a little taken aback at the vehemence of his response.
“People always say that,” continued Billy. “But they are still talking about the living. Yeah, she had an effect on you, on the world even, but as far as she is concerned – her own mind – well, that’s gone.”
“But everybody dies,” said Shari.
“I know,” said Billy, “And that’s what terrifies me.”
“So when you saw Justine…”
“I’m afraid to die. I can get into a panic about it whenever I think about it. Most of the time I repress it. We all do, don’t we? But when I saw my dad in the hospital or Justine on the floor like she was already dead … How can I repress it then? I know I’m a lout. I mean, they were the ones in pain and in danger and here I am thinking about myself. I hate myself when I do that, but this fear thing is so big."
He couldn’t meet her gaze. He was so embarrassed. His secret was out. He was a pig and a scaredy cat. But how could they all deny the enormity of it? Maybe he was the only sane one.
“Why do you hate yourself? To live with that kind of fear? I mean, I think it’s kind of brave, in a way.”
“Brave?”
“It’s brave to go on in spite of it.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Is this that repression thing you were talking about?”
“Hey, it’s my code of honor,” he said, trying to sound more lighthearted.
They walked a little further. They were going very slowly, ambling almost, and gently swinging their arms together as they held hands. Eventually they came to the back of the courthouse. Across the street were a row of law offices with old-fashioned street lamps in front of them, and the sidewalk was made out of red interlocking bricks. Underneath most of the first story windows were large flower boxes.
They hadn’t spoken for about ten minutes, but for the first time in his life Billy was not struggling to come up with the appropriate way to break the silence. He was just glad they were alone.
“Hey, look,” said Shari. “There are some steps over there.”
She led him to some concrete steps that went down below ground level to a basement door. At the bottom of the stairwell there was a four foot square area with a drain. When they sat on the last step they were completely invisible from the street.
“This is better than the bus?” asked Billy.
“At least we don’t have an audience.”
“No, just some other cop who will find us here and tell my parents I left town without there permission again.”
“This isn’t the Asburty Park.”
“No.”
Shari reached up and put her hand on the side of Billy’s head. Her fingers rubbed the back of his scalp as her palm cupped his ear. His head tingled, and a pressure welled up in his chest. He put his hands on her hips, and she kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Shari,” he whispered.
She pressed her lips full against his and slid her tongue into his mouth tracing the ridge behind his upper teeth. He started unbuttoning her shirt and she helped him, but soon they were so overcome with passion they just gave up yanked it over her head. He tore off his shirt as well and they pressed their bodies together.
“I don’t have a condom,” Billy said.
“I do,” said Shari.
“What a woman!
”
“Have you done this before?” she asked unbuttoning his pants.
“No,” he admitted. “You?”
“No.”
Thank God, he thought, relieved and much more relaxed. Their pants were around their knees now and they went down on the floor of the landing.
“Ow!” said Shari.”
“What?”
“I scraped myself on the concrete.”
“Here,” he said, handing her their shirts. “Lie down on these.”
She spread the shirts underneath her and was lying down with her knees bent and her feet on the bottom step. Billy straddled her, but his pants were caught around his ankles and finding the right position was awkward. The concrete was scraping his palms, as well. His fingers slipped against the side of the drain, cutting the skin on two of them and ripping a gash in his nail.
“Oh shit,” he said, grimacing.
“What?’
“Nothing, there, that’s better,” he said changing his position slightly.
He had half lost his erection at this point, but Shari started stroking his penis and it came back quickly. Almost too quickly. He consciously had to stop himself from coming in her hand.
“The rubber is in my pocket,” she said.
He clumsily reached back into her pants pocket, and retrieved the condom with what felt like a fistful of thumbs and then slipped it on. Thankfully he had practiced doing so one night earlier that week just in case a moment like this arrived.
“I love you,” said Shari, putting her hands on his chest and gently massaging his nipples with the tips of her index fingers.
“I love you, too.”
He tried to go inside her but somehow the angle was wrong and as he pressed, she flinched with pain.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s OK. Here let me help you.”
She reached down and tried to guide him, but she still tensed up. He tried going in and out a little at a time and that seemed to work. She became really moist, but just as he was all the way in and he could feel the warmth of her body wrapped around him, his knee slipped on the concrete and he let out a grunt. Shari tried to see what was wrong but her hair had got caught in the drain.
“Ow!” she screamed.
“What?” said Billy, afraid he had hurt her.
“My hair. It’s caught. Shit.”
Billy pulled out of her and immediately started working on extricating her hair.
“Should I just pull it?” he asked.
“No, untangle it.”
“Just a second.” He fumbled around, trying not to hurt her.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “Wait! Not so hard.”
“There!”
They both sat up and looked at each other, bare-chested with their pants around their ankles and a condom hanging loosely on Billy’s now half-flaccid penis.
“This may not be the best place,” said Shari.
They didn’t speak much as they quickly dressed and climbed out of the stairwell. Back at the bus stop Shari said, “Well…that was different,” and started giggling. Freed from embarrassment, Billy, too, let out a chuckle, and before long they were both convulsed in laughter.
“Man,” said Shari, “That was one for the ages. Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Horny as hell, but you’ll live?” she asked.
“Yeah. So, do you think that counts?” asked Billy.
“You mean are we still virgins?”
“Yeah.”
“Technically, no, I guess.”
“Technically?”
“Yeah. I would say technically no.”
Billy stood at the end of the hospital hallway, near the stairwell, pretending to read the instructions on the fire extinguisher. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Dr. Chow conferred in hushed tones with his parents. They were standing outside of Justine’s room. His parents were still in their work clothes, but they were disheveled. His mother stood very erect, clutching her purse, but his father was propped up against the doorway like a paper sack. Dr. Chow, of course, was all composed and professional. The crease in his pants was perfect. His peach shirt was starched and a brown silk tie with some kind of cross-hatched pattern in light gold pointed in a clear straight line to his belt buckle.
Billy thought his bearing was totally inappropriate. Dr. Chow was a psychiatrist, right? Justine was his patient. Shouldn’t he have known what was coming? Shouldn’t he feel some remorse, or maybe even a trace of inadequacy or incompetence? Instead, he spoke in soft, reassuring tones while making very controlled and precise gestures. Billy thought it was obscene, but his parents only nodded.
Billy had not been allowed in the room with them when Dr. Chow came to visit, and that really pissed him off. The one time he actually wanted to be included in this family therapy thing and they had sent him out of the room like he was a little kid. He had come to the end of the hall to sulk, but now his curiosity was getting the better of him so he edged his way within listening distance. He stood about ten feet away, running his finger up and down a crease in the wallpaper that covered the top half of the hallway wall, and feigned disinterest.
“I don’t know how she found those pills,” said Carol. “They were in a hidden compartment in the bottom of my jewelry box, under all my necklaces. I purposefully didn’t leave them in the medicine cabinet. I didn’t think that would be safe, but I never thought she’d try to kill herself.”
On the last two words she had a mini-convulsion. She looked away, pressing her handkerchief into the bridge of her nose and hugging her purse to her body. Frank placed his arm on her shoulder but it had no effect.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “If she was determined to find a way to do this, she would.”
She turned almost as if to attack. “But why Frank? Why would she do such a thing? Why would she have no hope?”
“Sometimes, Mrs. Rogers,” started Dr. Chow.
“It was that medication,” interrupted Carol. “She didn’t want that medication in the first place. This is all my fault.”
“Your husband is correct, Mrs. Rogers,” said Dr. Chow. “You should not be blaming yourself.”
Carol raised herself up to her full height of barely over five feet. “Well if it is not her mother’s fault that whose is it?”
Dr. Chow put his hands together as if he were praying. He looked directly into Carol’s defiant gaze. “It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault, Mrs. Rogers. It is natural to feel that way. This is a very difficult situation.”
“Situation?” asked Carol, raising her voice.
Frank turned back towards the room to make sure Justine was still asleep. They had sedated her, of all things, which seemed to make no sense to him after they had to pump the sedatives out of her stomach.
Dr. Chow unclasped his hands and now held them open, thumbs together. It reminded Billy of a football player preparing to catch a pass.
“It is a difficult time,” said Dr. Chow. “But Justine is resting comfortably now, and when we all have time to digest this and talk things through, I am confident that we will be able to help her.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re confident,” said Carol, putting her handkerchief back in her purse and snapping it shut. She was no longer looking at him.
“Carol, honey,” said Frank, trying to be reassuring.
“What, Frank, what?” asked Carol, impatiently. Now she had the strap of the pocketbook over her shoulder and was staring off in the direction of the nurses’ station. Frank turned his attention to Dr. Chow. “We need some time to get our bearings,” he said.
“Exactly,” replied Dr. Chow. “Call my office tomorrow and schedule an appointment, won’t you? And please, if you want to speak with me before then call my direct number any time of the day or night. If I don’t answer, you’ll get my service. They know where to find me.”
“Yes, Doctor, we’ll do that,” said Frank.
Dr. Chow shook Frank’s hand. He gave Billy a quick nod and headed down the hallway in the direction of the elevators. ‘Even the sound of his heels on the floor is annoying,’ thought Billy.
Billy and his parents stood in a little circle for a few seconds.
‘They look old,’ thought Billy. ‘It’s not fair that they have to deal with Justine. It’s not their fault. She’s unbalanced.’
“She’ll be all right, mom,” he said out loud.
Carol came towards him and stroked his hair with her fingers. “You did great, sweetie. You saved her life.”
Billy caught sight of a nurse coming down the hall and gently pulled away. The last thing he wanted was for people to see his mother fussing over him in public.
“You don’t have to keep saying that, Mom. I didn’t do that much.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Without you…” She stifled a sob.
An orderly followed the nurse with an empty stretcher, and the Rogers family moved to the side to let them pass. From the other direction a maintenance man with a belt of tools slung low like a holster clanked his way down the hall.
“I think we’re in the way,” said Frank. “Maybe we should get going. There’s nothing else we can do here, anyway.”
Carol removed a piece of loose thread from her dress. “That’s a good idea. Why don’t you boys grab some dinner. It must be late. Oh my Lord,” she said, checking her watch. “It’s after 9:00. You must be starving. I’ll stay here with Justine. You two go eat.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Frank. “She’s asleep now. She won’t wake up for hours. You must be hungry, too. Come on. We’ll go out and have a nice quiet dinner. Just the three of us.”
“Oh, please. I couldn’t eat a bite. I’ll get a Coke and something from the vending machine and…”
“Carol, what are you going to do – “
“Frank, please,” she said sternly. “I need to be here and you need your rest. Take Billy to get something to eat and leave me with Justine. I’ll be fine.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Really.”
Frank considered saying something else but then relented.
“Well, call me later, OK? I can’t call you here. They won’t accept calls after 9:00, remember?” The vision of Frank lying in intensive care hung in the area between them like a ghost, but only for a moment.
“I’m going to stay all night,” said Carol. “The nurse said she could put a cot in the room. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Fine, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want.”
Billy thought his Dad seemed hurt. He had never seen his parents so ill at ease with one another. It reminded him of being at a middle school dance. His father stretched his back and then cleared his throat, fumbling for an exit line. All he could manage was, “Well, then good night.”
Carol went into Justine’s room. Frank pulled free his already loosened tie and rubbed the back of his neck. He forced a weak smile. “I guess that leaves you and me, Billy-boy,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I suppose I could eat.” Suddenly he was starving.
“Let’s go to that diner on Route 12. Your mother hates that place. We never get to go there.”
“Isn’t the food there really greasy?” said Billy, as they started down the hall.
“You don’t like grease?”
“I mean your heart.”
Frank’s face gave up its attempt at cheerfulness. He shoved his tie into the pocket of his sports jacket, and breathed through his teeth. “You let me worry about that.”
“OK”
Wearily, and in silence, they made their way through the hospital and to their car, which was parked out by the emergency room. The area by the emergency room entrance was lit up almost as bright as day, but with that false, too white light that they have in baseball stadiums.
“You drive, Billy,” said his Dad, handing him the keys.
They got in the Buick Wildcat and Billy slid his hands over the steering wheel. Normally, he would’ve been thrilled. He slipped the key in the ignition and started the engine. His father was slumped in the seat next to him. His eyes were closed and his head was resting against the window. He had his knees pulled together and his feet were tucked in under the front seat. Billy was surprised at how slender and frail his father’s legs were, how small his ribcage was before his torso ballooned slightly at the stomach. It wouldn’t take much to crush that chest. To stop that heart. His father opened his eyes. “Are you going to pull out?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“OK, then.” He closed his eyes again. “Let’s go eat.”
Billy couldn’t tell if his father was sleeping or only feigning sleep to avoid a conversation. He pulled out of the parking more tentatively than usual. He was always a tad nervous driving when his parents were in the car. He could never shake free the feeling that they were evaluating him.
There was a red light at the corner, and while they were stopped Billy counted out the floors on the hospital until he got to the sixth, where Justine and his mother were. They were in the room next to the corner, so it was easy to find. One little rectangle of light in that big grid. Would it really, truly have been worse – he meant in the long run – if Justine had died? One time he had overheard his parents discussing the same thing when Justine had made a previous but very half-hearted attempt on her life. She had cut her wrist with a steak knife but barely drew enough blood to stain a band-aid.
“She is so sad, Frank. It comes out in anger -- sometimes ugly anger -- but she is so sad. It kills me.”
“God forgive me, but sometimes I think –“
“Don’t say that, Frank!” she snapped in horror.
“You never think that?”
“Of course, I think it. But tell me honestly, could you go on living if she did?”
Frank had answered so softly that Billy had needed to strain to hear.
“No,” he said. “No, I couldn’t.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Carol sobbed. “I try so hard, but I can’t help her and then I scream at her, and…”
“Carol, don’t beat yourself up. You’re a great mother. Justine is just…It’s not our fault. It’s just something we have to live with. We just do our best and …”
“And what?”
In Billy’s mind, he could see Carol sitting silently next to Justine’s hospital room, maybe brushing some of that wild hair out of her face. Up in that little corner of the building, in that grid.
“Hey, Billy!” said his Dad. “It’s a green light.”
“Right.”
He drove off to the diner, as his father leaned back against the window and closed his eyes.
Chapter 25
It was the last Saturday of the summer. Labor Day weekend. Billy and his friends descended on the park as the sun was reaching its zenith to begin the final blowouts before the school year began. A small group was busy decorating one of the semi-enclosed picnic areas with ribbons and banners. There were eight picnic tables on a dirt floor, covered by a roof. Three sides were open to the park, the fourth was taken up by a log cabin-style building that had restrooms and a locked storage room used by the park department. Kyle had actually had the foresight to reserve it.
The kids lugged coolers of food and drink and set up the all-important stereo. There was an outlet so they didn’t have to rely on the usual boomboxes, several of which sat silent against the wall. There were a few cars parked by the side of the road with their trunks open and crammed with party supplies.
When the stereo came to life, Kerry put on the soundtrack to Hair and a few of the girls danced out in the sun. They swayed and rolled their heads, their arms reaching towards the sky with long, fluid movements. Their Indian print skirts gave a tease as to the legs beneath. Kerry wore a brightly colored tie-dyed shirt that looked like it had a bulls-eye on her chest.
“What is this?” asked Billy. “Retro-sixties or something?”
“It’s a Grok, man. Read the sign,” said Rooster, in between blowing up some balloons. He pointed at a banner that was hanging at an odd angle from the roof of the picnic area.
“You mean, like, Heinlein?” asked Billy.
“Yeah,” said Rooster, speaking with a long green half-blown up balloon clenched in his teeth. He took it out of his mouth, letting the air out of it. He pointed at Margaret who was standing with them, drinking a beer that was disguised as a Coke. “See, I told you. Billy gets it,” he said.
“Only boys read science fiction,” said Margaret. She took a swig out of her Coke can. “Not very many people know what a Grok is.”
“It’s the ultimate be-in, man” said Rooster.
“Yeah, like I said, it’s retro-sixties. Tell me,” inquired Billy, “Where’s the LSD?”
“Electric Kool-Aid is in the purple cooler,” said Rooster. He tossed a balloon at Billy and blew him a raspberry.
“I was kidding,” said Billy, swatting the balloon back at Rooster.
“Suit yourself,” said Rooster.
“So Billy,” said Margaret, coming towards him. She put her hand on his shoulder and gestured towards the other side of the picnic tables. “There’s somebody waiting for you. You were meeting her here, remember?”
At the base of the tree was Shari. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the roots, listening to Kyle who was gesticulating in a lively manner. Shari laughed. Her hair was wrapped into one long braid that hung down her neck. It reminded Billy of a rope, a rope he wouldn’t mind climbing.
“Don’t’ stand there with your mouth hanging open,” said Margaret. She gave him a little push with her fingertips.
Shari noticed him coming when he was halfway to her, and leapt up to greet him. Kyle stopped talking and watched as they ran to each other and embraced. Shari squeezed him tightly, almost to the point of taking his breath away. He was surprised at her strength. They rocked a little, swaying from one foot to the next in time with the music that was still blaring from the speakers in the picnic area.
“God, I’ve wanted to see you,” said Shari.
“Same here,” said Billy. He dug his face into her hair. She kissed his ear.
They had spoken for hours the night before. Shari had called him the moment she got home from vacation. He spilled his guts to her – the fear, the anger, the sadness, the confusion and the self-doubt. Everything that was in him. He had never spoken to anyone like that before. At first, while he was doing it, he had been afraid that maybe she’d think he was totally messed up, some kind of whining, needy creep, but she hadn’t. And as Shari commiserated with him, he had unleashed more and more of himself until he felt like he had dragged himself free of some sort of emotional rip-tide and was now wading, heavy-legged towards shore.
The next morning with his parents -- all of them sitting sullen and silent around the breakfast table -- had already started pulling him back down. He stared at Justine’s empty seat and wished somebody would say something. Finally, he had asked what they served for breakfast at the mental hospital, but his father had said, “Oh, I don’t know. Eggs Benedict?” And that had been the end of that conversation.
Seeing Shari, though, amidst the music and the celebration of the Grok made him start forgetting all that.
“You look great,” said Billy.
“You’re not so bad,” said Shari. She released him from her grasp and took him by the hand. They slowly meandered around the perimeter of the party. Shari occasionally rested her head on his shoulder. The weight of it felt exquisite.
“I can’t believe how strong you are,” she said.
“What!?” Billy stopped in his tracks and laughed. “Boy, that’s not how I feel!”
“What are you talking about? With all you’ve gone through this summer?”
“Well, it’s only beginning. Once Justine gets out of the hospital and comes to the high school…” His voice trailed off.
“We’ll look out for her,” said Shari.
An errant frisbee landed at their feet. Shari picked it up and tossed it back.
“I don’t know,” said Billy.
“You don’t know what?” asked Shari.
They were almost out of earshot of the music. Billy observed the preparations for the Grok with an air of semi-detachment. The gang was lost in their revelry. They were like a huge, amorphous life form that pulsated with energy. Like one of those amoebas they learned about in biology class. Filled with proteins, enzymes, excretions and goo. A sack of stuff that somehow kept its balance. That somehow worked. And he was integral to it, but superfluous, too. He knew it would go on without him. The gang meant everything to him but in a year it would simply dissipate. And he worried about the virus Justine, and how she would infect it, at least for him.
“It’s not that easy,” said Billy. “Justine’s not that easy to look out for. Believe me.”
“I know. But we’re seniors, man,” she said, taking on the mock inflections of a jock or a cheerleader. “We rule!”
Rooster shut the music off and jumped on top of a tree stump, blowing a kazoo. “Hear ye! Hear ye!” he shouted. “Let the Grok begin!”
The kids, including Billy and Shari, surrounded the stump. There were nearly a hundred of them. They were abuzz in anticipation.
“Hold hands in a circle,” said Rooster.
“Like the hokey-pokey?” asked Margaret.
“Shhh,” said Kyle. “Don’t ruin the karma.”
“Please,” said Margaret, but she joined hands and looked up at Rooster, who came off the stump and entered the circle. He motioned to Joel who was standing by the stereo. Joel pressed the play button and hurried to his place. The music started, as the kids recognized the tune, they smiled and joined in.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be
“Oh, wow,” groaned Billy. “This is too sixties.”
“Shut up and be, Rogers!” said Shari, knocking into him with her hip.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Whispering words of wisdom
Let it be
They broke out in song, shouting at the top of their lungs, their heads tilted back and gazing at a perfectly clear, blue sky.
Let it be!
Let it be!
Let it be, oh, let it be!
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be!
The afternoon was glorious. After spirited games of ultimate and hours of dancing they devoured pre-made bologna and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, bushels of fruit, mounds of twinkies, and bag after bag of potato chips. Exhausted and satiated they lounged in small groups as an album by Crosby, Stills, and Nash poured out its rich harmonies.
“Mellow music,” said Kyle. “Excellent choice.”
Kerry lay with her head in Rooster’s lap. Billy and Shari sat side by side. Margaret was playing cat’s cradle with Susan, while Joel was unsuccessfully trying to show off tricks with his new Duncan Yo-Yo.
“Needs practice, man,” said Kyle.
“This day was the best,” said Billy.
“Hear, hear,” said Kyle.
“And now for the piece de resistance!” said Rooster.
“What?” asked Billy.
“Well, while you were engaged with arguably more pressing matters,” he began.
“Arguably?” asked Margaret.
Rooster ignored her.
“We have decided upon our legacy.”
Billy perked up. He hadn’t expected anything to come from that. He thought it was the usual verbal game play they engaged in. He still wasn’t convinced that anything was actually going to happen.
“Yes, yes,” said Rooster, seeing Billy’s incredulity.
“Rephrase that,” said Kyle. “It is only the first step. But the first step is important. It sets the tone for the entire year.”
“Exactamundo!” said Rooster. “Therefore, our first gift…”
“Prank,” interjected Margaret.
“Gift,” repeated Rooster, “must be done on Monday night – Labor Day – so that the returning students appreciate this year’s senior freaks.”
“Why can’t I come?” asked Joel. “I’m only a sophomore but I can help.”
“You can be a lookout,” said Kyle, who was stretched out on his back on the grass. He pointed a finger at him. “But only seniors on the dome.”
“That’s cool,” said Joel. He botched a trick and tried to untangle his fingers from the yo-yo string.
“So what is it?” asked Billy, impatiently. “What’s it going to be?”
“We’ll meet in the woods behind the high school at midnight. Wear dark clothes and be ready. Assignments will be given then.”
Billy got up and stood over Kyle. “You are not going to keep me dangling,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
“Wouldn’t it be more fun not to know?” asked Kyle facetiously.
Billy placed his foot on Kyle’s chest, but applied no pressure.
“I take it this is some form of coercion,” said Kyle.
“I’m shocked. Simply shocked,” said Rooster.
Billy starting pressing down hard enough to be felt but not enough to hurt. “I’m serious,” he said, with his hands on his hips.
“Fine! I give up!” laughed Kyle.
Billy removed his foot, and Kyle sat up. The rest of the kids stopped what they were doing and gave him their full attention. “OK, then,” said Kyle. “Listen up.”
Chapter 26
That evening Shari and Billy found themselves walking the streets of Fairfield again. When it started getting dark the gang had loaded everything up, and those with cars drove off. Billy and Shari had gotten a ride with Kyle up to the Central Ave. Burger King and grabbed a bite with some other kids, but then had slipped away when the conversation had turned to a heated debate over whether Star Wars or 2001 was the ultimate science fiction movie.
“I wish we had some place to go,” said Billy.
“Some place private you mean?” asked Shari.
“Yeah.”
“So you could jump my bones?” she asked, her eyes all wide and innocent looking.
“No,” he shot back reflexively, and then blushed. “Well, yes, I guess.”
“I suppose your parents are home?” she asked.
“As always.”
“Mine, too.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and she hooked her thumb in his back pocket. A piece of wax paper blew by in the breeze, and a little kid came toddling after it with a bright pink ice cream cone, half of which seemed to have been smeared across her face. Her older sister scurried after her and grabbed her hand, scolded her gently and led her back to their family who were camped out on the benches in front of the ice cream parlor.
“So where are we going to go?” asked Billy. “The park?”
“Nah, I can’t go to the park again.”
A horn blasted and they turned to see Kyle driving down Central Ave. Rooster was hanging out of the passenger seat window. Someone in the back mooned them.
“Where the hell can we go?” moaned Billy.
“I know,” said Shari. “Isn’t that the number 14 bus? We can take it to downtown Pohasset.”
“Pohasset?” asked Billy. “What is in Pohasset?”
“Nobody we know,” said Shari.
“I’ll race you to the bus stop.”
They ran to the corner and darted across the street. The bus was a stopped a block away and the last person was boarding -- an older man with a cane, holding some sort of package. Shari let out a yelp of despair.
“I’ll hold it for you,” yelled Billy and started pumping his legs hard, arriving at the bus as the doors were about to close. “Can you wait a minute?” he asked in between pants. The bus driver merely looked at him with tired eyes and said, “A half a minute.” Just then Shari grabbed Billy by the arm, yanked him out of her way, and leapt on to the bus.
“Come on, Rogers,” she said, trying to hide how out of breath she was. “The bus doesn’t have all day.” She deposited some coins in the fare box.
“You son of a …” said Billy, laughing and jumped up beside her. The driver closed the door with a sigh, said, “Sit down” and pulled out into traffic, shaking his head.
Billy followed Shari down the aisle and the two of them commandeered the back seat. He immediately put his arms around her and started kissing her neck.
“Not here,” she said, pushing him away. “Save that stuff for Pohasset.”
It was then Billy noticed several sets of eyes upon them, and turned his customary crimson red. The old man with the package gave him a disdainful sneer and then repositioned himself so he could stare out the window.
“Where are we going to go once we get there? There’s no place private there,” whispered Billy.
“Is that all you think about, Rogers?” laughed Shari. She looked down her nose at him trying to appear haughty.
“You big tease,” said Billy.
Her demeanor quickly turned serious. “Don’t call me a tease. That’s like one of the worst things you can say to a girl. Talk about spoiling the mood.”
“What?” asked Billy. He was totally confused. Hadn’t they just been playing?
“Never mind.” Shari turned her attention to the traffic moving beneath them out of window. Somehow the mood had been broken.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked Billy. “I thought we were just… I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
She let him suffer for a couple of seconds and then said, “Forget it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I said forget it.”
When they got to the courthouse in Pohasset, Shari said, “Let’s get off here” and they exited the bus. Although not as happy as before his faux pas, she didn’t seem to be upset anymore so Billy thought it was best to ignore their moment of tension, carefully filing away a “do not say tease” rule into his long-term memory.
The courthouse was an old building with lots of granite and two impressive columns in the front. It was all lit up at night, but it was basically deserted. Another couple walked arm in arm down the street and a homeless guy sat on a bench wearing a couple of coats and nursing a whiskey bottle half hidden by a paper bag. Billy and Shari started down a path that cut through the courthouse grounds.
“So how’s Justine doing?” asked Shari.
Billy immediately felt the tension enter his chest. It was like cold streaks in his lungs. He put his head back and looked up at the sky. The moon was nearly full and it was partially obscured by some deep purple clouds. Almost like a postcard.
“Huh?” asked Shari.
“Oh, I don’t know. How is Justine ever, really? I don’t understand her. But I guess she’s doing better. She’s a lot calmer, I suppose. But that’s probably the medication.”
“You never told me what it was like to find her.”
Billy stopped walking. They were on the side of the courthouse now, under some elm trees that were dying of some disease. He bent down and plucked a lone dandelion from the lawn and started pulling out its petals, staining his fingers yellow. Shari waited patiently.
“Have you ever seen a dead person?” he asked.
“My grandmother. At her funeral. She was lying in her casket in this silver dress.”
“Didn’t it freak you out to see her?”
“It was sad, but it was peaceful.”
“But you weren’t freaked out?”
“What do you mean? I knew she was dead.”
Billy flung the dandelion down in exasperation, and tugged at his hair. “But she used to be alive and now she wasn’t,” he said. “She had thoughts and feelings. She had, well, I mean she had …an existence. And then you saw her in this coffin and she was just a lump of flesh.” His eyes were wide now and he was trying to hold off his panic. He had an almost pleading expression on his face.
“She wasn’t just a lump of flesh,” said Shari. “She was alive in our memories. In what she did in life.”
“Oh, come on!” said Billy, annoyed. “Do you really mean that? Do you really believe that?”
Shari was a little taken aback at the vehemence of his response.
“People always say that,” continued Billy. “But they are still talking about the living. Yeah, she had an effect on you, on the world even, but as far as she is concerned – her own mind – well, that’s gone.”
“But everybody dies,” said Shari.
“I know,” said Billy, “And that’s what terrifies me.”
“So when you saw Justine…”
“I’m afraid to die. I can get into a panic about it whenever I think about it. Most of the time I repress it. We all do, don’t we? But when I saw my dad in the hospital or Justine on the floor like she was already dead … How can I repress it then? I know I’m a lout. I mean, they were the ones in pain and in danger and here I am thinking about myself. I hate myself when I do that, but this fear thing is so big."
He couldn’t meet her gaze. He was so embarrassed. His secret was out. He was a pig and a scaredy cat. But how could they all deny the enormity of it? Maybe he was the only sane one.
“Why do you hate yourself? To live with that kind of fear? I mean, I think it’s kind of brave, in a way.”
“Brave?”
“It’s brave to go on in spite of it.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Is this that repression thing you were talking about?”
“Hey, it’s my code of honor,” he said, trying to sound more lighthearted.
They walked a little further. They were going very slowly, ambling almost, and gently swinging their arms together as they held hands. Eventually they came to the back of the courthouse. Across the street were a row of law offices with old-fashioned street lamps in front of them, and the sidewalk was made out of red interlocking bricks. Underneath most of the first story windows were large flower boxes.
They hadn’t spoken for about ten minutes, but for the first time in his life Billy was not struggling to come up with the appropriate way to break the silence. He was just glad they were alone.
“Hey, look,” said Shari. “There are some steps over there.”
She led him to some concrete steps that went down below ground level to a basement door. At the bottom of the stairwell there was a four foot square area with a drain. When they sat on the last step they were completely invisible from the street.
“This is better than the bus?” asked Billy.
“At least we don’t have an audience.”
“No, just some other cop who will find us here and tell my parents I left town without there permission again.”
“This isn’t the Asburty Park.”
“No.”
Shari reached up and put her hand on the side of Billy’s head. Her fingers rubbed the back of his scalp as her palm cupped his ear. His head tingled, and a pressure welled up in his chest. He put his hands on her hips, and she kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Shari,” he whispered.
She pressed her lips full against his and slid her tongue into his mouth tracing the ridge behind his upper teeth. He started unbuttoning her shirt and she helped him, but soon they were so overcome with passion they just gave up yanked it over her head. He tore off his shirt as well and they pressed their bodies together.
“I don’t have a condom,” Billy said.
“I do,” said Shari.
“What a woman!
”
“Have you done this before?” she asked unbuttoning his pants.
“No,” he admitted. “You?”
“No.”
Thank God, he thought, relieved and much more relaxed. Their pants were around their knees now and they went down on the floor of the landing.
“Ow!” said Shari.”
“What?”
“I scraped myself on the concrete.”
“Here,” he said, handing her their shirts. “Lie down on these.”
She spread the shirts underneath her and was lying down with her knees bent and her feet on the bottom step. Billy straddled her, but his pants were caught around his ankles and finding the right position was awkward. The concrete was scraping his palms, as well. His fingers slipped against the side of the drain, cutting the skin on two of them and ripping a gash in his nail.
“Oh shit,” he said, grimacing.
“What?’
“Nothing, there, that’s better,” he said changing his position slightly.
He had half lost his erection at this point, but Shari started stroking his penis and it came back quickly. Almost too quickly. He consciously had to stop himself from coming in her hand.
“The rubber is in my pocket,” she said.
He clumsily reached back into her pants pocket, and retrieved the condom with what felt like a fistful of thumbs and then slipped it on. Thankfully he had practiced doing so one night earlier that week just in case a moment like this arrived.
“I love you,” said Shari, putting her hands on his chest and gently massaging his nipples with the tips of her index fingers.
“I love you, too.”
He tried to go inside her but somehow the angle was wrong and as he pressed, she flinched with pain.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s OK. Here let me help you.”
She reached down and tried to guide him, but she still tensed up. He tried going in and out a little at a time and that seemed to work. She became really moist, but just as he was all the way in and he could feel the warmth of her body wrapped around him, his knee slipped on the concrete and he let out a grunt. Shari tried to see what was wrong but her hair had got caught in the drain.
“Ow!” she screamed.
“What?” said Billy, afraid he had hurt her.
“My hair. It’s caught. Shit.”
Billy pulled out of her and immediately started working on extricating her hair.
“Should I just pull it?” he asked.
“No, untangle it.”
“Just a second.” He fumbled around, trying not to hurt her.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “Wait! Not so hard.”
“There!”
They both sat up and looked at each other, bare-chested with their pants around their ankles and a condom hanging loosely on Billy’s now half-flaccid penis.
“This may not be the best place,” said Shari.
They didn’t speak much as they quickly dressed and climbed out of the stairwell. Back at the bus stop Shari said, “Well…that was different,” and started giggling. Freed from embarrassment, Billy, too, let out a chuckle, and before long they were both convulsed in laughter.
“Man,” said Shari, “That was one for the ages. Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Horny as hell, but you’ll live?” she asked.
“Yeah. So, do you think that counts?” asked Billy.
“You mean are we still virgins?”
“Yeah.”
“Technically, no, I guess.”
“Technically?”
“Yeah. I would say technically no.”
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