Chapters 10 to 13

Chapter 10

A week went by. Billy played in half a dozen more frisbee games, went to several parties, and actually worked up the nerve to talk to Shari. He found it was easier than he thought. Florence finished caulking her bathroom and was now considering wallpaper options. Peter and Mitchell were caught smoking in the back room of the grocery store but were given a second chance, and Rooster had a major fight with his parents that resulted in him spending the weekend at Kyle’s house. Justine had been better behaved than usual, although maybe more sullen. Frank and Carol thought that given the improvement in her behavior, they would spring for a dinner at Big Charlie’s Steakhouse. The family piled into their ’68 Buick Wildcat and drove over to Pohasset, the neighboring town.

Big Charlie’s was a huge restaurant with hardwood floors and lots of turn of the century memorabilia on the walls – farm implements, sporting equipment, and a variety of posters, among other things. Big Charlie himself was a cartoon character. He was pictured on all the napkins and the menus and there was a cardboard cutout of him with the daily special tacked to his stomach. Big Charlie was a slightly rotund man with a handlebar mustache and thinning hair. He had a big smile and a striped apron, and held a cleaver in one hand and a steak knife in the other. Billy thought he appeared slightly menacing. When he was younger, Billy would take his napkin and using a crayon or pen would darken Big Charlie’s eyebrows, angling them down a little to make them come nearly together. Thus transformed, Big Charlie looked like a deranged butcher. Ketchup applied appropriately on his apron and cleaver finished the effect. His parents always scolded him when they caught him with the ketchup and confiscated his napkins.

There was one chicken dish on the menu for people who clearly came to the wrong restaurant. The rest of the menu consisted of different cuts of meat – all huge – prepared to order. Each entrée came with a baked potato or fries and a congealed mass of steamed vegetables. The bread, though, was excellent, and they had milkshakes for dessert.

“What are you going to get, Carol?” asked Frank.

“I don’t know. There’s so much to choose from!”

“Presumably meat,” said Billy.

“Don’t be a smart aleck,” said his dad. “Although I really shouldn’t be eating this much red meat.”

“You can splurge once in awhile, Frank,” said Carol, “You’ve got to live a little. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, I intend to. You don’t have to twist my arm.”

The waiter – he said they could call him Todd – came over to see if they needed more time. He wore an apron’s similar to Big Charlie, but had a pad and pen in place of the cleaver and knife.

“I think we’re ready,” said Frank. “Carol, you order first.”

“Let’s see…I’ll take the 12 ounce New York Strip, medium rare, with a baked potato and a Tab.”

Todd turned to Frank. He was probably a college student – very clean-cut as were all the staff at Big Charlie’s. His blonde hair was cropped close to his scalp and he had pale, smooth skin and a Romanesque nose. He still was probably only shaving once a week, if that.

“I’ll have the same, only make it the 16 ounce cut. Billy, what do you want?”

“I’ll have the grilled chicken.”

“What? You come to Big Charlie’s and get the chicken?” asked Frank, incredulously.

“I want the chicken.”

“Well, suit yourself,” said his dad, “but why not a T-bone or something. It will put some meat on you.”

Billy sneaked a look at Todd, who remained impassive. “I said I want the chicken. What’s the big deal?”

“Fine,” said Frank. He looked disappointed.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you want,” said his mother, “but you can get chicken anywhere. Big Charlie’s is famous for it’s steak. Right?” She appealed to Todd for confirmation with her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am”

“Can I please just have the chicken?” said Billy, starting to blush.

“Go ahead,” said his mom.

Without judgement, Todd asked if he wanted fries or a baked potato with that.

“Fries.”

“And you, miss, what would you like?”

“Nothing.”

Todd was confused. He looked at Carol and Frank quickly but then said, “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” said Justine calmly.

“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” asked Carol.

“I’m not hungry.”

“But it’s dinner time.”

“Justine,” said her father, “Just order something.”

“But I’m not hungry.”

“We take you out to this nice restaurant and you order nothing? Come on, we don’t go out much. Let’s have some fun.”

“I don’t like this restaurant.”

Frank put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. He pressed his temples with his thumbs.

“Excuse me,” said Carol to Todd, “Could you please come back in a few minutes to get her order?”

“I’m NOT ordering,” said Justine.

“Please?” asked Carol, giving Todd a smile.

He said, “Sure,” put his pen in his pocket, and walked away.

“Justine, honey,” said her mother, “You must be hungry. Why not order something? How about just a baked potato?”

“I hate this restaurant. It sucks.”

“Justine!” said Frank.

“Frank, keep it down,” said Carol. She leaned in towards to Justine. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter. I just hate this restaurant and I don’t want to eat here.”

“So don’t make her order,” said Billy.

“She’s got to eat something,” said Carol.

“No, Billy’s right. If she doesn’t want to eat, then don’t make her eat. I want to eat my steak in peace,” said Frank.

Carol threw up her hands in disgust. “Fine, if that’s the way you want it.”

“That’s the way I want it,” said Justine.

“OK, only don’t ask me to cook you anything when we get home.”

“Fine.”

Frank motioned to Todd who had been waiting in the wings. He came trotting over, pen in hand.

“Just put those three orders in for now. We might order something else later.”

“We won’t!” insisted Justine.

“Only three orders?” asked Todd.

“That’s right.”

“OK.” A smirk crossed Todd’s face. Billy could tell that he was thinking that this was a new one. Little did he know.

The rolls came quickly and Justine reached for one.

“So you are hungry,” said Carol.

“I just want bread.”

‘Leave it alone,’ thought Billy.

“Let’s change the subject,” said Billy’s father. “I know I’m going to enjoy my steak.”

Justine tore her roll in two.

“So…” said Carol, changing the subject, “How are things at Food Town?”

“OK, I guess,” said Billy.

They munched on their rolls in silence for a little while, and then Carol and Frank started talking about work. Billy glanced over at Justine. She was upset about something, but he sure wasn’t going to ask her about it and provoke her. After a few minutes, the food came. Billy’s chicken was dry but his parents “oohed” and “ahhed” over their steaks.

Frank looked up at Justine. “This is your last chance. Would you like to order something?”

“No!” shouted Justine.

Billy saw a few of the other patrons turn their heads and then turn quickly back to their food.

“Not so loud, little lady,” said Frank.

“But I said no,” said Justine.

“I thought maybe since the food was here that you would change your mind.”

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” asked Justine.

“We listen to you,” said her father. “We listen to you plenty.”

“Do I have to go back to Dr. Chow tomorrow?”

Frank and Carol put their silverware down simultaneously, and looked at each other.

“Yes,” said Frank.

“He’s going to medicate me, right?”

“Not necessarily,” said Carol. “You’ve been really good this week, Justine. If you can control yourself this well – “

“Not necessarily? I can’t stand people watching me all the time, looking at every little thing I do.”

“We’re trying to do what’s best for you,” started her mother.

“So I’m not hungry. I don’t order anything. So you look at me with your beady little eyes and think, ooh let’s drug her.”

“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” said Frank, sternly but softly.

“Ooh! I’m sorry,” Justine said sarcastically, “Justine said ‘beady little eyes’ so let’s dope her up!” Her voice was starting to grow louder and shriller. Billy scanned the restaurant making sure that none of the customers were people he knew.

“Justine, settle down. If you don’t want anything to eat, that’s – “

“I am hungry, but I don’t want any of this sucky food!”

“Please, honey,” said Carol, “Let me and your father finish eating and we’ll talk about this when we get home.”

“I want to talk about it now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank muttered under his breath.

“Do I have to go back to Dr. Chow?”

“We’ll talk about it at home. Let me eat my dinner in peace,” said Frank. “I paid enough for it.”

“OK, eat your sucky steak. Go ahead. But I’m not going back to that slanty-eyed Dr. ‘I’m-so-great’ Chow.”

“Justine, don’t use that language,” snapped Carol. “And don’t say ‘slanty-eyed’. That’s very rude.”

“Oh, he can drug me up but I can’t call him slanty-eyed. Well, he has slanty eyes.”

“I can’t take this,” said Frank, pushing himself back from the table. Billy had stopped eating at this point and was staring at his food.

“Do I have to go to Dr. Chow tomorrow?” asked Justine.

“Yes you do,” said her father through his teeth.

“He doesn’t help me at all!”

“You don’t know that,” said her mom.

“Yes, I do! I’m the one in there with him all the time. He just nods and says, ‘I see.’ He never does anything to help me.”

“Keep your voice down,” said Frank.

“I don’t care who hears me.”

“Justine, you’ve been great all week,” said her mom. “Don’t make a scene here. Let us eat, and then we’ll go home and talk about it.”

“Forget it,” said Frank. “It’s hopeless. I’ve lost my appetite.” He raised his hand for the check. Billy prayed Todd would come quickly.

“You think I’m hopeless! You’ve given up on me!” yelled Justine. “Go ahead. Eat your stupid steak. You don’t care about me!”

“I’ve had enough of your attitude, little lady,” said her father. His face was contorted. He was almost apoplectic. The whites of his eyes seemed luminescent. Billy looked for the characteristic throbbing of the little vein that ran alongside his forehead.

“Frank,” cautioned Carol.

“You don’t like my attitude?” yelled Justine as she leapt out of her seat. “Well, just drug me up, why don’t you?” This was it. Meltdown. Billy looked desperately for Todd. Where the hell was he?

“Pump me up on your fucking drugs. See what I care?”

“Justine, sit down!” said Carol.

Justine turned to an elderly couple at the next table, and said, “My own mother and father want to pump me up with drugs and turn me into a God damned zombie.” They looked down at their food and tried to ignore her. Billy could hear the titters spread through the restaurant as people pretended not to stare. Finally, Todd trotted over to their table. Another waiter ran into the back room, presumably to get the manager.

Justine presided over the room like a manic Medea. Her hair was wild and her eyes had the intensity of lasers. Her face was flushed and she flailed her eyes about. Billy knew there would be anger or tears. He hoped for tears.

“I won’t eat this sucky food so they want to give me drugs.” She started flipping plates on to the floor. Frank pushed himself away from the table and got up.

“Hey, stop that!” said Todd dropping his composed waiter demeanor. “I’m going to have to clean that up.”

“What’s your problem? That’s your job isn’t it! They pay you to clean up the mess so clean up the mess.” She hurled a potato at him. He wasn’t sure what to do. He took a step toward her and then stopped. The eyes of the restaurant were upon him.

“What are you waiting for? Clean up the mess. Here’s some more,” said Justine and she started ripping up the little sugar packets and hurling them on the floor. Frank lurched around to her side of the table and pulled the sugar packets out of her hand. He forcibly sat her down in her chair and leaned over her, pointing his finger right in her face. “You better calm down right this instant, little girl,” he hissed. Todd stood frozen, a picture of helplessness. Vainly he searched about the room, hoping for re-enforcements. He started to blubber something unintelligible as the manager and a couple of waiters finally emerged through the kitchen doors and strode purposefully towards the table.

Justine leapt up. “You care more about that stupid steak than you do me!”

“That’s it!” said Frank. He grabbed Justine’s arm and started pulling her towards the door. “We’re leaving.”

“You’re hurting me!” screamed Justine.

The restaurant staff backed off a step and waited for a cue from the manager. With a face of stone, Frank wrapped Justine in his arms, flung her over his shoulder and stormed outside. Billy heard a few scattered gasps and a “My word!” from the elderly lady at the table next to them. She clutched her purse and put it in her lap, which Billy thought bizarre. As the front door slammed, Todd bent over and picked up half of a flattened potato. He wrapped it in a napkin and walked off.

The pandemonium passed, and Big Charlie’s was completely silent now except for a few clinks of silverware against plates. Billy couldn’t lift his eyes from the table. His cheeks burned. “Can I go?” he asked.

“Pick up the sugar and those potatoes,” said his mother.

Billy got up, scooped up the rest of the potatoes and put them on the table. The sugar was more difficult. He started sweeping it up with his hand, using a placemat as a dustpan and never lifting his eyes from the floor. His vision only extended far enough to see Todd’s feet. Soon Todd and a busboy with a long, black ponytail joined him on the floor. Carol sat at the table.

“Here’s your bill,” said the manager. “Is everything all right?”

Carol took a sip of her Tab and picked up her purse. “Please forgive my daughter,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “She’s not well.”

She took the bill and tried to maintain her dignity as she pulled out some cash, including a generous tip. Billy finished cleaning up the sugar and sat back down across from his mother. He picked up a fork and started jabbing it into his chicken.

“Billy, stop that.”

Billy put down the fork. More than anything in the world, he wished he were invisible. When he breathed it was almost as if he were breathing in smoke or the warm, putrid air from a swamp.

“Do you want me to wrap that?” asked Todd. His manager stood a few feet behind him, pretending to be interested in the register.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. She looked down at the rest of her steak. It was about half eaten. It had been good. “No, I don’t think so,” she repeated, and then said, “Let’s go, Billy.” They both got up. Billy saw his mom wipe some tears from her eyes. “One God damned night out with the family was all I wanted,” she whispered.

“Excuse me?” asked Todd, who was beside her with her change.

“Nothing. Please, just keep the change.”

“Sure.”

Billy’s body relaxed as they left the building. ‘We’re never going back there,’ he thought. “Thank God that’s over,” he said, but as the words left his mouth he saw his mother was crying.
“Why didn’t you have them wrap the food?” he asked.

Billy’s mother looked up at him but didn’t say anything. He felt like an idiot. She pulled some Kleenex out of her purse and blew her nose. “You’re only her brother,” she said. “You get to go away. This is my life.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Yeah, well….let’s go rescue your father.”



Chapter 11

The ride home was silent. Billy stared out the window and watched the lights. ‘One year,’ he thought. ‘One more year, and I am gone.’ They pulled into the driveway and Billy’s Dad turned off the engine and stared at the dash. He stared at the gnats swarming around the car’s headlights.

“Dad,” said Billy. “You’re lights are on.”

“I know.” He turned them off. “Lock your doors,” he said.

Justine had ranted and raved in the parking lot until she ultimately exhausted herself. Meanwhile, Billy had sat in the car and tried not to be seen. After his mother had finally calmed Justine down, she wiped her face with a handkerchief and told her to get in the car. Billy stared out the window. Nobody spoke. By the time they got home it would’ve appeared to an outsider as if nothing happened.

“Well, we’re home,” said Carol.

“Thank God. I’m going to sleep,” said Frank.

They got out of the car and went inside. Frank went into his bedroom, got undressed and climbed into bed with the TV on. When Carol didn’t follow he searched her out on the porch.
“Hey, you coming to bed?”

“In a minute, I just want to read my book for a little while.”

“What is it?” he said, scratching his backside.

“Another romance.”

“I’ll be watching TV.”

He started for the bedroom. She called after him. “You’ll be sleeping when your head hits the pillow,“ she said. Frank merely grunted as he made his way back to bed. He ran into Billy who was emerging from the bathroom. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Out,” said Billy.

“You’re going out?” his father said, loudly enough for Carol to hear out on the porch.

“So late?” she asked. “Why don’t you stay home?”

“Mom,” Billy whined.

“You promised you’d listen to Carly Simon with Justine.”

“Do something with your sister,” said his Dad.

“You promised,” said Justine, who was now in the kitchen with them, hanging on to every word.
‘Surrounded,’ thought Billy, and admitted defeat. “Fine,” he said. It would take awhile to find his friends anyway and if he logged in some big brother hours maybe he wouldn’t feel so guilty next time.

Frank went to his room, and Carol started reading. Billy stood at the doorway and looked at Justine standing in the middle of the kitchen.

‘Why did she go and flip out,” he thought. ‘What a stupid thing to do if she didn’t want to go back on medication.’ Her voice came through the door. “You coming?” she asked. “Yeah,” said Billy.

Justine ran out of the kitchen to her room and hurriedly started pulling out all her Carly Simon records. She was so excited she didn’t know where to begin. Billy went to the bathroom and shut the door. He didn’t need to go. He just wanted a few minutes for himself.

“Aren’t you coming? You said you were coming.”

“I’m in the bathroom, OK? Sheesh.”

“But you’re coming, right?”

“Right! Give me a minute!”

This wouldn’t be so horrible, Billy convinced himself. He wasn’t a big fan of Carly Simon – he thought her saccharine -- but she wasn’t so bad. Besides, Justine wouldn’t make another scene. She was calm now, and he would be spending time doing what she wanted to do.
Billy flushed the toilet and let the faucet run like he was washing his hands. He looked at himself in the mirror, studying his face. He turned his head from side to side but his eyeballs stayed locked in position. It was like they were the only thing fixed in the universe and everything else rotated around them. He looked away and then quickly turned back to the mirror. There were his eyes again, exactly as he had last seen them. He knew it was impossible not to see his eyes in any other way, but he felt a compulsion to try. To catch himself off guard.

“Billy?” called Justine.

He turned off the faucet and sighed. “Coming.” He opened the door and went to Justine’s room.

“What song do you want to hear first?” she asked eagerly. She was on her knees leaning over her bed with her albums splayed out in front of her. Her bedspread and curtains had all kinds of frills on them. The room was a study in purples and pinks. There were rows of music boxes on her dresser – a ballerina, a dog with her puppies, and a clown holding some balloons.

“I don’t care. Whatever,” he said.

“Don’t you have a favorite?”

“Not really.”

“How about ‘You’re so Vain’?”

“OK,”

“Are you sure?”

“I really don’t care,” said Billy. As far as he was concerned, all her songs were lame.

“I’ll pick out something good.” She alternately held one album after the other out in front of her and bit her lip. “How about this one? This one’s good.”

“Great,” said Billy trying to muster some enthusiasm.

Justine put the album on the turntable, turned the stereo on, and then delicately placed the needle on the edge of the record. She sat back on her bed, amidst a pile of stuffed animals, and looked at Billy expectantly. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He knew she wanted him to make some comment but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Justine folded her knees up under her chin and swayed her head gently to the music. She was wearing maroon corduroy hip huggers a white shirt with pink horizontal stripes and puffy short sleeves. She loved puffy sleeves and lace and girly stuff like that. Billy thought they made her look odd. It wasn’t just that they were so uncool, but she just didn’t move like a frilly girl. She had a heavy, almost clumsy gait and her face was always hard. It made her clothes look even more out of place than they were. But sitting there on the bed she looked relaxed. ‘What would it be like to have a normal sister?’ he wondered. She noticed he was looking at her so he averted his eyes. She didn’t say anything, though. As long as they were listening to “Carly” she would be fine.

“Isn’t she wonderful?” she asked.

“She’s OK.”

“I think she’s fabulous. It’s like she knows how I’m feeling.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As long as I’ve got Carly, I know everything can be OK.”

They listened awhile longer. Carly Simon did have a nice voice, Billy thought, but the songs were dumb.

Justine was completely relaxed. She mouthed the words and gently rocked to the music with her eyes only half-opened. Billy was starting to get bored so he ventured a question.
“If you don’t want to take drugs, why did you blow up in the restaurant?”

“I don’t know.” She stopped swaying. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I want to know if you could help it.”

She was only mildly annoyed. “I knew everybody was looking at me and wondering if I could handle it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was like, well, she’s been good so far so let’s try her out in the restaurant.”

“It wasn’t a test. They thought you could handle it. You saw how excited they were. They love that place.”

“Well, I hate it.”

“I’m not a big fan either, but I didn’t yell and scream.”

“Why do you always bring that stuff up?”

Billy knew this was dangerous ground, but he couldn’t resist. “Justine, I don’t want to fight. I just want to understand.”

He saw her body grow tense. She picked up an album and started reading the cover. She had to know them all by heart by now.

“Why did you blow up?” he asked.

She looked up at him defiantly. “I don’t want to go to Dr. Chow, and I don’t want drugs.”

“But Justine, blowing up makes it more likely they’ll want to put you on drugs.”

“They’re all putting too much pressure on me,” she said sharply.

Billy leaned forward. “Justine, don’t get angry at me for this, please. I’m just asking. But if you can’t take the pressure, then why don’t you take the drugs?”

She sat there for a moment. The song ended and the next one came on.

“Oh, this is a good one!” she said.

Billy stood up and walked over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it and picked up a stuffed white tiger. “Justine,” he said softly. “Are you able to stop them?”

“Stop what?”

“Your outbursts.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“But you said you couldn’t take the pressure. The drugs will calm you down. Do you like getting into fights all the time?”

Justine gathered up her albums in her lap, and went back to reading the back covers. Carly Simon stared at Billy from the front of one of them. Her hair was redder than Shari’s but it fell around her shoulders in the same way. The picture was soft, like it was taken through a filter.
“Don’t you like Carly?” she asked. “You’re not even listening to the songs.”

“She’s OK,” said Billy, not trying to hide the fact that he was annoyed at her evasiveness.

“Just OK?” She was disappointed. “Well, who do you like?”

Billy got up and returned to his spot on the floor. He could pout, too, he thought. “If you don’t want to answer, then fine.”

She didn’t respond, but he could see she wasn’t concentrating on the music anymore. She spread her albums out in front of her but didn’t look at them.

“I don’t want to be like other people, “ she said. “They just go blah blah blah blah. Only crazy people and artists and musicians and sensitive people really live. Only they really experience things. Like Carly. She’s really sad. You could feel it.”

She gazed lovingly at the lush, softly focused picture of her musical idol. Carly had a huge smile and a lily in her hair. In the background there was a meadow. It was like Disney, or something. An absurd contrast to her behavior in Big Charlie’s.

“But you really lose it, Justine.”

“Don’t you ever lose it?” she said, never taking her eyes from the album cover.

Billy stopped to think. There was something about the way she asked that question that seemed terribly normal. “Not like you.”

“Then like what?” she asked. She finally looked at him.

Billy paused. This was not something he wanted to go into. He knew it would come back to haunt him. “If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

“OK.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. She was sitting on the bed, actually having a conversation with him. It was like a glimpse of the sister he could’ve had. He plunged on, knowing he’d probably regret it.
“Sometimes I think about death and I get really scared. I kind of go into a panic,” he said.

“I’m not scared of death.”

“You’re not? How can that be?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think of it as an end, really.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Billy picked up the tiger again and started tossing it back from one hand to the other. To not be afraid of death. It was unfathomable.

“Do you, like, lose it?” his sister asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean do you have outbursts?’

Billy stopped tossing the tiger. “Well, I…uh.” He stood up and walked over to the dresser. The record was over. The arm of the stereo automatically rose and reset itself. ‘Is that what it’s like?’ he thought. ‘When Justine goes nuts is it like when I freak out?’ He picked up the ballerina music box and twisted it. It played “Where is Love?” from Oliver.

“Well, do you?” she asked.

Billy knew if he talked about it, he would only increase the chance that he’d have a panic attack later on that night. He grabbed a stuffed unicorn and started swinging it by its tail. Its fur had sparkles in it. ‘Where did she get all this stuff?’ he thought, and threw it on the bed.

“I get really scared,” he confessed. “I kind of panic and start running. I feel like if I don’t start thinking about something else quickly I’ll just never be able to think about anything else again and I’ll just be in this awful, terrible place forever.” He looked down at the floor. “I get so scared I can’t stand it. I mean, someday I won’t exist. It makes me feel like everything around me will disappear if I blink.”

“That sounds cool.”

“Cool?”

“Like everything will disappear if you blink? See that’s really feeling alive.“

“It sucks.” He picked up the unicorn and jammed its horn into his thigh. “Doesn’t anyone else feel like this? How can they not?”

The music box stopped so he twisted it again. He felt diminished in her eyes, but she only asked, “Doesn’t part of you like it?”

“No way! I hate it, but I can’t resist it.”

“Huh.” Suddenly an idea sprung into her head. She sat bolt upright. “Wait!” She hopped out of bed. “You’ve got to listen to ‘Jesse’.” Billy sat open-mouthed as Justine scrambled for another record and swapped it with the one that was on the turntable. “This song is the best,” she said.

“Aren’t you going to answer my questions?” he asked.

“What?”

“Can you control your outbursts?”

“Maybe, but if I did I’d just be like everybody else.”

“I don’t get it, Justine. Why can’t you just relax and be happy?”

“By taking drugs?”

“I’m not talking about drugs! Oh, just forget it.”

“Aren’t you going to listen to another record?”

“Yeah, fine, let’s do that.”

Her eyes lit up. “You’ve got to hear this one!”

She bent over and carefully set the stereo arm on the record and backed away almost reverentially. Billy knew the conversation was over. He listened for another half-hour and then told Justine he wanted to go to sleep. As he left her room, Billy heard the TV on in his parents’ room. He yelled “Good Night” but got no response. He dragged himself upstairs, stripped down to his boxers, and slipped between his sheets. Lying there he could still hear Carly Simon. He was glad, though. If he focussed on the songs, he could keep himself from thinking about death.




Chapter 12

“Now explain this to me again,” said Billy.

“It’s brilliant!” said Kyle.

“You’re actually going to live in there?” asked Billy.

Rooster had a broad smile across his face. His arm was draped across Kerry’s shoulders. He winked at her. “It will by my love palace,” he said.

Kerry pushed him off and rolled her eyes. Laughing, he staggered backwards and threw himself on the ground.

“It’s just so cool,” said Billy. He lifted up the flat of the tent that was pitched in the middle of Rooster’s backyard and peered inside. There was a sleeping bag, a blue plastic milk crate with a desk lamp on it, and a few big pillows tossed around. In the corner was a canvas duffle bag with some clothes and odds and ends spilling out, including some dental floss, a pocket knife, and a plastic bong.

“Where are you going to plug the lamp in?” asked Billy.

“I’m going to run an extension cord from the kitchen. My parents’ said I’ll just have to unplug it if it rains.”

“Oh, right. Good idea,” said Billy. He let go fo the flap and started circling the tent, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And if I get a phone call they’ll just flick the back porch lights on and off a few times and leave the kitchen and I can go in and answer it. That way I don’t have to actually talk to them or even see them.”

“You’re kidding? They agreed to this?”

“It was their idea.”

“Why?”

Billy thought a serious look flashed over Rooster’s face for just an instant but then it was gone, replaced by a smirk. He puffed out his chest. “I told my parents I was fed up with all their nonsense,"said Rooster. " I couldn’t take it anymore, and I was running away.”

“He moved in with his grandmother in Brooklyn for a week last spring,” said Kerry. “Not exactly Jack Kerouac.”

“I ran away, woman!”

“You commuted to school,” said Kerry.

Rooster tried to hide is annoyance with a wave of his hand and spoke to Billy. “I said I was dropping out of school. There was no way I was living in this madhouse and I couldn’t afford to take the damn train to school. I was going to get my own place.”

“He asserted himself,” said Kyle.

“Yeah,” said Rooster, giving Kerry an ‘I-told-you-so’ expression. “That’s what I did. I asserted myself.”

“So they said…” started Kyle.

“Let me, man,” said Rooster. “So they said I could live in the tent in the backyard.”

Rooster started a slow strut around the outside of his tent.

Billy brushed the air out of his eyes and examined Rooster’s new home. “How are you going to shower?” he asked.

“I’ve got it all figured out. Both my parents work. I’ll wait until they leave. The school’s right around the block. I won’t be late.” He was gesticulating energetically.

“As if that mattered to you,” said Kerry, who was sitting on the steps leading to Rooster’s back porch. Rooster shot her a look, but she just kept brushing her hair.

“And meals?” asked Billy.

“When my parents are at work I can hang out in the house and eat and watch TV and stuff. I’ll clear out when they come home. And they’ve promised to leave me alone as long as I finish school.”

Billy had one hand on top his head as he resumed walking around the tent. “What a great idea.”

“It’s brilliant! Fuckin’ brilliant!” said Kyle. “This tent will be like the epicenter of late night happenings.” He spun around and threw himself on the ground.

“Oh, baby!” said Rooster. He bounded over to Kyle and they exchanged high-fives.

Kerry got up and walked over to Rooster. “Hold on to your hormones,” she said as she gave him a hug. “All the testosterone in the air is making me ill.”

“I’m not talking about that,” said Rooster, his voice a little softer. “I’m talking about an official no-parent zone.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

“So why did you call me for help?” asked Billy.

“Well, one condition for the tent gig is that every three days I have to move it to a different place in the yard.”

“Why?” asked Billy.

“So he doesn’t ruin the lawn,” said Kyle.

Billy nodded. That made sense. So he guessed that this thing was actually for real. You didn’t get down to that level of detail unless it was for real.

“It’s a big tent. With four people we can move it easily without having to take it down and put it back up again,” said Rooster.

“Well, let’s get to it,” said Kyle, rubbing his hands together.

Rooster pulled out all the stakes, while the others grabbed a side of the tent to keep it from falling over. It was supposedly a self-standing tent but without the tension of the ropes holding it up, it was precarious. After the stakes were pulled, the kids slid the tent with everything in it several feet to one side and then re-staked it.

“Perfecto!” shouted Rooster. “Care to come over to my place?”

He gestured grandly towards the front flap and the others went in. He ran to the house to hook up the extension cord and then joined them.

“Voila!” he said, turning on the light.

The tent was almost big enough to stand in. They sat down on the pillows and nodded their approval.

“This is so cool!” said Kyle.

“Care for some weed?” asked Rooster. He started rifling through his duffle bag.

“You parents won’t smell it?” asked Billy.

“They never come back here,” said Rooster. “Besides, my tent is off limits. Anyway, they go to sleep really early.”

Rooster found what he was looking for and held it up in the air like a prize he was proud of. He sat cross-legged in a corner of the tent and put a sheet of rolling paper on his knee. Then he opened the plastic bag with marijuana and gently tapped some on to the paper.

“No seeds in this shit. Columbian!”

Then he expertly rolled the cigarette, licked the paper, sealed it, and twisted the ends. From his pocket he pulled a Bic lighter and lit up. He inhaled deeply with his eyes closed, held his breath for a few seconds, and then slowly exhaled.

“For you, my sweet,” he said, passing the joint to Kerry. She took it with a smile.

“I could get used to this,” she said.

“Did you hear something?” asked Billy, tensing a little.

“What?” asked Rooster.

“Someone’s in the yard.”

Kyle opened the flap and looked out.

“Ladies!” he said. “Enter, enter.”

Shari and Margaret ducked inside.

“I can’t believe it,” said Margaret. “This is for real. Geez, Kyle, I thought you were putting me on.”

“Who, moi?” said Kyle, who put on a playful act of being offended.

“It’s the real thing,” said Rooster. “My little pleasure palace. Parentless pleasure palace, I should say.”

With the six of them in the tent it was pretty crowded. Kerry nestled next to Rooster. Billy noticed that Margaret’s legs were pressed up against Kyle’s. Shari was between her and Billy. He was close enough to smell her shampoo. In the middle of the tent was the milk crate and lamp. Rooster threw a t-shirt over it to dim the light.

“Now all we need is a little rain and we’d have shelter from the storm,” said Rooster.

Billy almost mentioned that they’d have to turn off the light if it rained, but then thought better of it. The joint made its way around the tent. Being closed in, they got high quickly off each other’s smoke.

“So how’d you convince your parents to let you do this?” asked Margaret.

“It was their idea,” said Billy. “He threatened to run away. It was the only way they could get him to finish school.”

“Amazing,” said Margaret, running her hand alongside the tent wall. Billy watched the tips of her fingers press against the fabric.

“Here you go,” said Kerry. She handed Margaret the joint and let out a long stream of smoke. “It’s getting a little hot in here,” she said.

“Actually, I have to go,” said Margaret. She took a quick drag. “Susan is babysitting for her cousin and I said I’d stop by after the little kiddies’ bedtime.”

“Where does her cousin live?” asked Kyle.

“In the apartment complex behind the Sunoco.”

“I’ll walk you over,” he said.

“OK. Cool. See you guys later,” said Margaret. “This thing’s only got a few tokes left in it anyway.”

“There’s plenty left,” said Rooster, retrieving the roach.

Kyle opened the flap for Margaret, and made a grand gesture towards the outdoors.

“So gallant,” said Margaret, a bit sarcastically.

“Just being helpful,” said Kyle.

“No, my friend, they call that being a male chauvinist pig,” said Rooster.

“Something Rooster-boy here never is,” said Kerry, flipping one of his red curls.

“I’m a thoroughly modern man.”

“Then God help the future of humanity,” said Margaret, exiting.

“Ciao,” said Kyle, and went out after her.

“Actually, Rooster-boy, you’re not so bad,” said Kerry. She poked him in the stomach and giggled. Rooster gave her a kiss on the forehead and undid her pony-tail, running his fingers through her hair. “Hair is like, amazing,” he said.

Kerry shook her head to loosen her ponytail further, and looked up at Rooster.

“So smooth,” said Rooster. “It like flows.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as Rooster took the final drag on the joint and put it out on his sneaker. Kerry starting untying his laces.

“Well,” said Shari, “I guess maybe I should be going, too.”

“Right,” said Billy, quickly. “Me, too,”

“Bye guys. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Shari.

“What wouldn’t you do?” asked Rooster. He was speaking to Shari but his eyes were locked into Kerry’s.

“Hmmm, maybe something unprotected,” said Shari, and then she stepped outside.

“Under control,” said Rooster.

“That’s my little Rooster-boy,” said Kerry, rolling over on her stomach, and stretching out into the newly available space.

Shari closed the flap and Billy leapt up to follow her into the yard. Compared to the tent, the night air was cool. The sky was clear and full of stars. They looked at each other and laughed.

“Do you believe that?” asked Shari.

“Yeah,” said Billy, “I thought they were going to start doing it right in front of us.”

“Shhh,” whispered Shari. “They can probably hear us. Let’s go around to the front.”

They left the backyard and went out to the street in front of Rooster’s house.

“Want to go for a walk?” asked Billy.

“Where?”

“How about to the park?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They started walking side by side. Billy’s hands were in his pockets.

“I can’t believe that,” said Shari.

“What? Oh, yeah, they were pretty goo-goo eyes all right.”

“Not that,” said Shari. “I mean, the fact that Rooster is living in a tent.”

“Sounds like a good compromise to me.”

“Hey, whatever works, but I mean don’t you think it’s, well, maybe just a little bizarre?”

“I guess. But all families are bizarre.”

“Yours, too?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They were nearing Central Avenue. Billy looked around hoping not to see anyone. He was finally alone with Shari and the pot had made him relaxed. He wanted to be with just her, away from the usual horde of kids. They crossed the street and headed down the tree-lined streets toward the park. Billy watched his feet as they traversed the sidewalk. In this part of town it had lots of cracks. Billy picked at the shrubbery as they walked. He heard a dog barking, and kept his ears alert for someone calling for them, silently praying he would hear nothing. He kicked a few stones and searched his brain for something to say.

“It’s a great night,” he said.

“Yeah.” Shari threw her head back to gaze at the sky, allowing her hair to fall off the sides of her face. Billy stared at her profile, her lips and chin and neck. The neckline of her shirt hung just low enough so he could see the line of her collarbone, and the beginnings of her breasts.

“I love walking around at night,” he offered. “I do it all the time.”

“Just walk around?” She directed her eyes to him.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

“It helps me think, and I love knowing every little corner of the town.”

Shari shuddered visibly. “I can’t wait to leave Fairfield,” she said.

She flicked her hair over a shoulder with a toss of her head. She never wore it back in a ponytail like Kerry. He liked it better this way. It was like waves of soft auburn constantly in motion around her face. He could almost feel its smoothness on his fingers.

“Oh, me too! What I meant was…well, while I’m here I like just happening in to people and stuff.”

She stopped walking and cocked her head at him. “Who do you usually happen into?” she asked.

“Usually just Freddie Schlossberg, but sometimes parties or one of the guys. It’s hard to explain.”

She nodded her head, but Billy couldn’t help but feel she was sizing him up.
“I think I know what you mean,” she said.

“Yeah?”

A few blocks further and they’d be at the park entrance. He removed his hands from his pockets but didn’t know what to do with them. They were like big spatulas hanging at his sides. Her hands were mere inches away.

The two of them passed Joel’s house, but all the lights were off. Again there was a prolonged silence and again he searched his brain frantically for something to say.

“So where do you want to go?” asked Shari.

“I thought we were heading for the park.”

“No, I mean, when you leave Fairfield?”

Billy swallowed hard. He was coming off like an idiot; he was sure of it.

“I’m sure I’ll just end up at Rutgers, like half of our class. I don’t think I can afford to go anywhere besides a state school. But then, who knows?”

“I’d die if I had to stay in New Jersey for one more day longer than necessary. I want to go out west. Even if I had to put college off for awhile. Everything is so crowded and old here.”

“I guess. You could say the same thing about London or Paris.”

“Touche’.” She laughed. “But at least they’re exotic, or different. You know? And they’re big cities. I could deal with New York, I suppose. There’s such energy there. But then again I want to live near cliffs or mountains.” She laughed. “I’ll probably be fifty before I figure out where I want to live.”

“I’d take anything. Anything different and far from my family.”

“Not just a tent in the backyard?”

“No, that wouldn’t be quite far enough. I’m thinking of China.”

Billy stopped walking. They’d reached the park. There was a brown, wooden sign with yellow letters carved into it saying “Closed after Sunset” at the entrance, but there was nothing blocking the road.

The park itself was dark except for the tennis courts which were lit all night by a single yellow light on top of what looked like a telephone poll. It cast long shadows across the courts. The entrance was at the top of a hill, which headed down toward a level area next to the river. They could just about make out the softball field and the public restrooms. The rest of the park was mainly picnic areas and a rusty, old playground. A bent basketball hoop stood in the corner of the playground, but the asphalt around it was losing a war to the weeds.

“Want to go down by the river?” asked Shari. A few strands of hair had found their way into the corner of her mouth. She slid them out with her fingers and tucked them behind her ear. Her green eyes peered into his, waiting for an answer.

“Sure,” said Billy, shaking himself out of a trance. He wished he’d smoked more pot. It was starting to wear off, and his heart was racing. She had actually asked him to go down to the river. Was this his chance? He didn’t want to mess it up.

“Margaret says you write poetry,” said Shari.

“What?”

“She said you’re a natural poet.” She let out a chuckle. “She says you’re deep.”

He couldn’t tell if she was making fun of him or not. But if she was making fun of him, then why would she want to walk in the park with him? “I don’t know about that,” he said. Margaret and Shari talked about him? This was a revelation.

“In English class,” said Shari. “You read it in class, right?”

“Oh, right.” Now he remembered. “We had a project when we were reading Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. You read that, right?”

“Yeah, in Ms. Tompkins class. I loved it. It was full of passion.”

“We either had to write a story or a poem about finding our own voice. I thought a poem would be shorter.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them. ‘What a moron,’ he thought. ‘What a stupid thing to say.’

“Margaret says yours was cool. Can I read it some time?”

“Sure, if I can find it.” It was at the bottom of his middle desk drawer, he had taken it out to read at least once a week during the school year. He had tried writing other poems but they always came out sappy, so he gave up.

“Do you remember any of it?”

“It wasn’t really about my voice.”

He picked up a branch and started breaking off the twigs. They were almost to the river. All that separated them from it was the playground.

“Hey, look! A swing set! Come on. Let’s swing. I haven’t done that in years.”

Shari ran over to the swings and set herself down in one of the soft black rubber seats and started gently swinging. She motioned to the seat next to her. “Come on!”

Billy sat down in the swing and matched her rhythm. Their legs moved slowly in unison as they swung through the air. The motion made a gentle breeze in their faces.

“So what was it about?” she asked.

“The poem?”

“What else, silly?”

They swung in unison for a bit, while Billy surreptitiously tried to observe her. Shari seemed so at ease with herself. And she was so beautiful. He felt like looking at her lowered his IQ by thirty points. His throat felt like it had a tennis ball stuck in it. Billy gathered the courage to speak.

“Did you ever feel something so much that you don’t know what it is? Like you are feeling so much you don’t have room in your brain to figure it out?”

“When I feel something deeply, all I want to do is think about it and figure it out.”

“But what if you don’t know how? Or it just takes over you? Or there’s no point in it?”

“There’s got to be a point to it, or else you wouldn’t feel anything.”

“I’m not explaining this right.”

“Is that what your poem is about?”

“It’s about feeling so much you want to explode and you will unless you find some way to let it out. But how can you let it out if you’re not sure what you’re feeling in the first place?”

She stopped swinging. “What are you feeling now?”

Billy dragged his feet in the dirt to slow himself down. “A little bit like that,” he said.

“And you can’t get it out?”

“I guess.” He stared at his shoes.

“I have an idea.”

“What?” He looked at her expectantly. His heart pounded in his chest. She backed up and pushed off, swinging hard. “Come on, start swinging again," she said.

“What?” He was confused.

“Come on!”

“OK.”

He tried to get in unison with her.

“No, faster!” she said. “I’ll race you. See who can swing higher.”

They pumped their legs and leaned back in their swings with all their weight, their muscles straining as they began to swing higher and higher. The wind whipped by their ears, changing pitch with the direction they were moving. Pretty soon their feet were scraping the leaves of the huge tree that stood about thirty feet in front of the swings. Shari’s hair flew wildly about her face.

“Higher!” she shrieked.

Billy put his back into it. It was a relief to use so much energy. He bit his lower lip even as he smiled.

“We’re going to flip over the top!” he yelled.

“I can’t hear you!” They were out of synch now, and the wind was rushing by their ears.

“We are going to flip over the top!”

“On three, jump!”

“What?”

Shari yelled, “I said, on three, jump.”

“OK!”

“One…two…three!”

For a few brief seconds they were airborne, flying together screaming out with delight. Billy felt like he was in orbit. Time slowed, and he saw Shari’s body turn itself in the air as she landed with a thud. A micro-second afterwards he came down with his hands in front of him, rolling with his momentum. His hip banged into a root of the tree and he let out a grunt.

Shari was laughing. “Are you OK?”

“I almost broke my hip!” he yelled, but he was laughing, too.

“Oh, poor baby, did you get hurt playing on the swings?”

“No,” he said. “I got hurt flying into a tree.”

Shari crawled over to him and they lay down next to each other, breathing hard. Billy rolled over towards her.

“I was higher than you,” said Shari.

“No way,” said Billy.

“I was still flying when you hit the tree.”

“Dream on! I had you beat by five feet. You gotta give me that. I’m injured.”

“Oh, does Billy have a boo-boo?”

They stopped laughing and looked at each other. Billy reached out and put his had behind the back of her head. She leaned into him. They closed their eyes and kissed, tentatively at first and then more passionately. Billy’s head swam. His whole body lost all sensation except for his lips, until Shari started sliding her hands under his shirt and up his back. He squeezed her to him more tightly and threw his leg over hers, moving his hand to the small of her back and then letting it slip lower. He heard her take in a quick, deep breath and felt her press her leg deeper between his. She stopped kissing him for a moment and held his head in both her hands, and smiled.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” said Billy.

She licked his lips and he felt a shiver down to his groin.

“That’s enough of that!” bellowed a police officer. He shined a high-powered flashlight at them. The magic was gone in an instant. They scurried to their feet and straightened their clothes. “The park is closed,” he said. “No funny business.” The officer’s face was a black silhouette behind the flashlight, but they could hear the smile in his voice. They stood with about two feet of space between them.

“Let’s be on our way,” said the officer. He watched them make their way up the hill and out of the park.


Chapter 13

The little silver foil bricks of Philadelphia Cream Cheese virtually flew out of their box to be assembled into neat, identically sized stacks. They were quickly followed by tubs of Breakstone Cottage Cheese and Dannon Yogurt. Billy moved with the speed and precision of a SWAT team. The next item to be stacked was the sour cream, packaged in red plastic containers. Billy whipped out his Exacto knife and made a clean incision down the length of tape that held the carton closed. Zzzzip. Then he spread open the flaps of the box – whup – to reveal eight circular lids. Each lid needed ot have a price sticker slapped on it. Billy picked up the hand held device that printed out the prices on a roll of stickers as it applied them and set it to 89 cents. Then, keeping a quick but steady rhythm he slapped a sticker on each tub on the top layer and transferred the sour cream to the refrigerated case. Click-click-click-click, click-click-click-click. On to the shelf. Next layer. Click-click-click-click, click-click-click-click. On to the shelf. Then he reached for another box. The Exacto knife, zzzzip. Open. Whup. Click-click-click-click, click-click-click-click. On to the shelf. Click-click-click-click, click-click-click-click. On to the shelf. Zzzip. Whup. Click-click-click-click.

Mr. Graves nodded his head with a small but appreciative smile and made a note on his clipboard before moving to the next aisle. Mitchell, wheeling a cart of wilted lettuce to the trash compactor, flashed Billy a quizzical look but then picked up his pace. Billy hummed. Later, in the break room he was wolfing down his daily chili dog and a quart of chocolate milk.

“My, my,” said Florence. “Aren’t we a little ball of fire today.”

“What?” asked Billy, wiping some sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“Did you finally get a good night’s sleep?”

“What do you mean?”

“You certainly seem to be a bundle of energy today. Isn’t he, Doris?”

Doris’s gray hair was dyed golden. Her black cat’s-eye reading glasses hung from a chain around her neck, and her lips were caked in dark red lipstick. She was doing the TV Guide Magazine crossword puzzle.

“Don’t ask me, sweetheart,” she said in a raspy voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was crazy on diet pills or something.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Billy. “Can’t a guy do his job without it being a big deal?”

Florence gave him an inquiring look and clucked her tongue. “A little birdie tells me something else is going on. Wouldn’t you say, Doris?”

“Don’t ask me, honey. It’s not my place to say nothing. But I’ve never seen no one stack milk like he was on a mission from God before…What’s a six-letter word for Archie’s daughter? Second letter L.”

“Gloria,” said Billy. “That’s an easy one.”

“I don’t watch them smutty shows,” said Doris.

“So you play frisbee last night?” asked Florence.

“No, I just hung out with a couple friends.”

“Oh to be young,” said Florence with a sigh. She gathered up her trash and gave Billy another look. “Ain’t that right, Doris?”

“Don’t ask me, honey,” said Doris. “I was young once but I wasn’t too good at it. Three letter word for food scrap. First letter O.”

“Ort,” said Billy.

“You know,” said Doris, “You should enter one of those crossword puzzle contests.”

“Are you coming, Doris?” asked Florence.

“Yeah, sugar. I’m coming. I’ll finish this later.” Doris took off her reading glasses and let them hang down across the top of her chest. “I just have to go to the little girls’ room.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

Doris slipped the TV Guide into the big front pocket of her red Foodtown uniform, grunted while she stood up, and headed for the rest room. Florence kept staring at Billy.

“What?” asked Billy, but he blushed.

Florence let out a little sigh and tossed her trash in the can. She looked like she was about to say something, but then she just gave Billy a wave, raised her eyebrows, and went to wait for Doris.

The public address system crackled as it was turned on. Billy waited for the inevitable breakage announcement. “Billy Rogers to the customer service desk. Billy Rogers to the customer service desk.” That was unusual. He quickly swept his remaining orts into the empty chocolate milk container, dumped his garbage in the can, and ran down the steps and out towards the front desk.

He couldn’t imagine what he’d done wrong. That was the only reason Mr. Graves would be paging him. But he didn’t care. All day he had been zooming along through the clouds with thoughts of Shari and the fact that he had dozens of summer nights spread out in front of him.

He headed up the bread aisle, past the loaves, muffins, and rolls and then turned right towards the service desk. That’s when he saw his mother and the look on her face and the way she gripped and twisted the straps of her pocketbook.

He almost turned around. He searched his mind for a second to see if he could think of some excuse. It was obviously something to do with Justine and he really didn’t care to know. Maybe he could say he didn’t hear the announcement. But then he looked at his mom again. Her unguarded expression and the sadness he saw there caught him off guard. She seemed smaller than usual. Then she noticed him and he saw a smile force itself on to her face for a moment. She came towards him and gently held his arm, just above the elbow.

“Hi, sweetie, how are you doing?”

“I’m OK. What’s wrong?”

She took a beat, and then, “Daddy’s had a little heart attack.”

“What?” he yelled in a high pitched squeal. The blood rushed from his head and he backed away from her.

“It’s OK. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” he asked incredulously. “Is he going to be all right.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No. Tell me. Is he going to be all right?”

“It’s not that bad. He’s not in any danger. I just came from the hospital. The doctors say it was more of a warning than anything else.”

“He’s in the hospital?”

“Yes, he’s in intensive care.”

“Intensive care?” Billy didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt pressure behind his chest and eyes and a strange weakness in his legs. He looked down at the floor and started breathing hard.

“It’s standard procedure. Look, honey, it’s OK. He’s going to be OK.”

Billy couldn’t tell if he should believe her. His mom put her hands on his shoulders. He was shaking. She was still holding her pocketbook, so it lay across his arm, vibrating along with him.

“Are you going to be OK?” she asked.

Billy looked down at his mother’s face. He could see by her eye make-up that she had been crying. He tried to pull himself together.

“How about you? Are you OK?” asked Billy.

Carol took a breath and let go of Billy’s shoulders. “Oh, honey,” she said, getting choked up. She fumbled through her purse to find a Kleenex, and blew her nose. Billy wanted to hug her but he felt awkward. And he knew people were watching. He just stood there.

“I’ll be OK,” said Carol. “Your Dad’s going to be fine.”

“Should I go with you to the hospital?”

“No, no. Not yet. I’m going back there now. I just went home to get a few things.”

“When did this happen?”

“He was mowing the lawn.”

“I would’ve done that!”

“Forget about it. Listen to me. Justine doesn’t know. She’s been out riding her bike all day. I need you to go home and wait for her. When she gets there, you’ll need to tell her what happened. I didn’t want her to find out through a note.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I need to go to the hospital. Can you do this for me?”

“Yes.” Now he felt sick. Justine.

“I’ll give you a call when I know more. Maybe later you can come up to the hospital and then we can all visit with Dad.”

“OK. Whatever you say.” But he was already growing distracted with thoughts of his sister.

“Good. Thanks, Billy. You’re a good boy.” She made a move as if to touch his cheek but then stopped as she saw him stiffen. “I have to go.”

“Bye, mom.”

“I love you, Billy.”

“Yeah. I love you, too,” said Billy, in a voice slightly more audible than a whisper.

“Right. Now. I already told Mr. Graves so you can just go on home.”

“OK.”

She snapped her purse closed, and left. Billy turned towards the service desk but Mr. Graves, who was standing behind it sorting through a stack of time cards, gave him a little good-bye salute and motioned him towards the door. Billy headed out. The heat of the day hit him hard. He was sweating by the time he traversed the parking lot, crossed Central Avenue, and made his way home.