Christine

It occurred to me that they could kill him. Not just kill him but really, honest-to-Christ kill him. Guys like that sometimes did. Things just went a little too far and some kid wound up dead. You read about it in the paper sometimes.

“—keep her?”

“Huh?” I hadn’t followed that. Up ahead, Arnie s house was in view.

“I asked if you had any ideas about where I could keep her.”

The car, the car, the car that’s all he could talk about. He was starting to sound like a broken record. And, worse, it was always her, her, her. He was bright enough to see his growing obsession with her—it, damn it, it—but he wasn’t picking it up. He wasn’t picking it up at all.

“Arnie,” I said. “My man. You’ve got more important things to worry about than where to keep the car. I want to know where you’re going to keep you.”

“Huh? What are, you talking about?”

“I’m asking you what you’re going to do if Buddy and Buddy’s buddies decide they want to put you in traction.”

His face suddenly grew wise—it grew wise so suddenly that it was frightening to watch. It was wise and helpless and enduring. It was a face I recognized from the news when I was only eight or nine or so, the face of all those soldiers in black pajamas who had kicked the living shit out of the best-equipped and best-supported army in the world.

“Dennis,” he said, “I’ll do what I can.”

10 LeBAY PASSES

I got no car and it’s breakin my heart,

But I got a driver, and that’s a start…

— Lennon and McCartney

The movie version of Grease had just opened, and I took the cheerleader out to see it that night. I thought it was dumb. The cheerleader loved it. I sat there, watching these totally unreal teenagers dance and sing (if I want realistic teenagers—well, more or less—I’ll catch The Blackboard Jungle sometime on a revival), and my mind just drifted away. And suddenly I had a brainstorm, the way you sometimes will when you’re not thinking about anything in particular.

I excused myself and went into the lobby to use the pay-phone. I called Arnie’s house, dialling quick and sure, I’d had his number memorized since I was eight or so. I could have waited until the movie was over, but it just seemed like such a damned good idea.

Arnie answered himself. “Hello?”

“Arnie, it’s Dennis.”

“Oh. Dennis.”

His voice sounded so odd and flat that I got a little scared.

“Arnie? Are you all right?”

“Huh? Sure. T thought you were taking Roseanne to the movies.”

“That’s where I’m calling from.”

“It must not be that exciting,” Arnie said. His voice was still flat—flat and dreary.

“Roseanne thinks it’s great.”

I thought that would get a laugh out of him but there was only a patient, waiting silence.

“Listen,” I said, “I thought of the answer.”

“Answer?”

“Sure,” I said, “LeBay. LeBay’s the answer.”

“Le—” he said in a strange, high voice… and then there was more silence. I was starting to get more than a little scared. I’d never known him to be quite this way.

“Sure,” I babbled. “LeBay. LeBay’s got a garage, and I got the idea that he’d eat a dead-rat sandwich if the profit margin looked high enough. If you were to approach him on the basis of, say, sixteen or seventeen bucks a week — ”

“Very funny, Dennis.” His voice was cold and hateful.

“Arnie, what—”

He hung up.

I stood there, looking at the phone, wondering what the hell it was about. Some new move from his parents? Or had he maybe gone back to Darnell’s and found some new damage to his car? Or—

A sudden intuition—almost a certainty—struck me. I put the telephone back in its cradle and walked over to the concession stand and asked if they had today’s paper. The candy-and-popcorn girl finally fished it out and then stood there snapping her gum while I thumbed to the back, where they print the obituaries. I guess she wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to perform some weird perversion on it, or maybe eat it.

There was nothing at all—or so I thought at first. Then I turned the page and saw the headline. LIBERTYVILLE VETERAN DIES AT 71. There was a picture of Roland D. LeBay in his Army uniform, looking twenty years younger and considerably more bright-eyed than he had on the occasions Arnie and I had seen him. The obit was brief. LeBay had died suddenly on Saturday afternoon, He was survived by a brother, George, and a sister, Marcia. Funeral services were scheduled for Tuesday at two.

Suddenly.