by Richard Cox
Then she looked down and saw Jonathan Crane on the display.
“Hi, Jonathan.”
“Hey, Alicia. What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Trying to have a little lunch, but Allstate just called and said they’re not sure they’re going to approve the claim on my house. I can’t believe it.”
“What? Why?”
“Because of the ongoing arson investigation.”
“That’s ridiculous. You weren’t even there when it happened. How can they try to blame it on you?”
“I guess they don’t know who to blame it on. What am I going to do if I lose my house and the equity because of all this shit? I’ve been paying on the damned thing for eight years.”
“That’s not going to happen,” he said to her. “You didn’t have anything to do with this. Insurance companies are evil. They’ll deny a claim for anything, but once the cops make an arrest I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“When do you think that’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know, but maybe there will be some movement soon. I just got off the phone with David. He’s in town and just talked to the police, and he wants to meet with us this evening.”
“He’s here now?” Alicia asked, startled.
“Well, he has his own plane, I guess. The detective asked him to come to Wichita to handle his father’s remains and all that, but when David got here the guy asked him a bunch of questions about the summer when we were kids. He tried to trick him into admitting we burned down the restaurant back then.”
“So obviously the detective thinks you guys are involved somehow.”
“Alicia, we’re not. At least I’m not. But someone is sending emails that appear to make reference to our club and make it look like the past is repeating itself. So we all need to talk about this. David is coming by my house tonight, and I’d like you to join us.”
Alicia wasn’t sure what to say. She found it difficult to believe David Clark was going to be in town this evening. Did she want to see him? Was she prepared to? He was probably tanned and fit and looking like the millions of dollars he was worth. She hadn’t been to the hair stylist in nearly six months. And she was still shaking over the call from Allstate.
“Alicia?”
“I think I can make it. What time?”
“Around seven. I can give you directions if you want.”
“Just text me the address and I’ll find it.”
Jonathan waited a minute and then said, “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Not a lot. I’m feeling kind of stressed, actually.”
“I can only imagine. But we are going to figure this thing out. I promise.”
“Or hopefully the police will. I don’t think Allstate will put much credence in our opinions.”
“That’s true.”
Alicia wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she didn’t want to be rude to him.
“Thanks for meeting me last night,” he said. “You looked great, by the way.”
“Thanks. I had a good time.”
“And now tonight, seeing David. Imagine how strange that’s going to be.”
Alicia wondered if he was referring to what had happened when they were kids. How Jonathan had never called her back. How she ended up falling for David.
“I was surprised you didn’t bring this up last night,” she said.
“Bring up what?”
“What you’re thinking about. David and you and me.”
Now Jonathan didn’t say anything. Silence hissed through the little speaker in her phone.
“I know it was a long time ago,” she said, “and it doesn’t matter now, but I don’t know what you expected me to do. You never called me back.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter now. We were children.”
“We were childhood friends, we still live in the same town, and we haven’t spoken since we were thirteen.”
Alicia remembered the first time she saw him, in the P. E. classroom, seated in the first row of desks. She remembered his blond, floppy hair and the way he looked at everything (including her) with a kind of intense curiosity. Once she noticed him it was difficult to stop noticing him, and every time she glanced in his direction he was looking back at her. Finally, he spoke to her one day at lunch. Their conversation had been easy, their interests similar, and she had been smitten hard for the first time in her life. It was this overwhelming blush of emotion, of puppy love, whatever you wanted to call it, that she had never forgotten. Maybe pubescent hormones had triggered such an exaggerated reaction, but like the lingering emotions after an intense dream, Alicia was somehow affected now by the way she had felt for him then.
“It was my mom,” he told her. “It seems so silly now, but she overheard when I called you. When I asked you to be my girlfriend. She said I could never see you or talk to you. I’m sure David told you about her.”
“He didn’t.”
“We had a horrible relationship. She pretty much hated me. I don’t know why.”
“That’s . . . I’m sorry, Jonathan. Do you have a relationship with her now?”
“She and Kenny still live in the same house in Tanglewood. I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of years. I guess she’s an alcoholic.”
“Kenny is Bobby’s dad?”
“Right.”
Alicia was quiet for a moment and then said, “Maybe you could have told me. At least I’d have known what was going on.”
“It was so embarrassing to be treated that way. I couldn’t imagine telling you or anyone. It took every ounce of courage I could summon to call you that night, and she was sitting around the corner, listening. When I got off the phone she made fun of me for calling you. I should have stood up for myself, but she’d been terrorizing me for years. Whenever she yelled, I did whatever I could to make her stop. I had a lot of growing up to do, and I did it late. I’m a lot different than that now.”
“But you still didn’t talk to me even after school began.”
“I was really embarrassed. I’m sorry. Like I said, we were just kids.”
“We were just kids,” Alicia agreed. “But those experiences stick with us. They shape the way we look at the world and how we feel, even now.”
“Yeah. So why don’t you show up a little early tonight? You and I could talk more, have some wine before they get here.”
“Who’s ‘they’? Is David bringing someone?”
“His girlfriend, I think.”
“Oh. Of course he is.”
Silence crept into the phone. She didn’t want to let it go on too long.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll come by like an hour before they do. We can have a little wine, relax before the big meeting. I want us to catch up for real this time.”
30
Outside, on the back porch, Maxie barked. Once. Twice. Adam was helping Rachel put away groceries, and he waited for another bark. There was no stopping it, really. Once Maxie began yapping, she might not stop for an hour. Or more. And it didn’t help to go out there and yell at her. It didn’t help to feed her a treat. She just kept on yapping and yapping like she was on some kind of loop. Rachel hated it.
“How is the cleanup at your project coming?” she asked him. “Can Juan start framing again?”
“It’s on hold until the police have gathered more evidence. I told you this yesterday.”
“Sorry. I was just checking. This is a big deal, Adam, and you’ve hardly mentioned it.”
Rachel was about to say something else when Maxie barked again.
“I wish that dog would be quiet,” she said.
“Maybe we should give her away.”
“But Bradie loves her. Kids love dogs.”
“Bradie never plays with her,” Adam pointed out. “She never even goes in the back yard.”
“Of course Bradie plays with her.”
Adam looked around the corner and saw his daughter sitting twelve inches from the living room television set. Spo
ngeBob was on.
Yap! said Maxie.
Rachel dried her hands and marched into the breakfast room, where a set of French doors opened on the back porch. Adam could see Maxie from here, staring into space, yapping. He had never understood why the dog would do that, or what it was barking at, but right now he felt like following its lead. Imagine the cathartic release of staring into the sky and screaming until your lungs bled. Imagine the great weight unshouldered, the liberation from guilt, finally telling the world who you really were.
Rachel opened the door.
“Maxie. Shut up.”
Maxie just stared at her.
“Okay, then,” Rachel said, and shut the door.
Yap! said Maxie.
Rachel jerked the door open. She reached out and popped Maxie on the nose. “You shut up, you stupid dog!”
The dog yelped and scooted backward.
“That’s enough! Do you hear me?”
Maxie just stared.
His wife went into the kitchen and grabbed a box of treats. She tore the box open as she reached the door and then threw it at the dog.
“Why don’t you shut up? You must be stupid stupid stupid!”
Some of the treats, brown and yellow and orange, spilled onto the concrete patio. Maxie spotted the windfall and trundled over. She settled in and began to eat.
Rachel slammed the door. “That ought to keep you busy for a while.”
“We really should give the dog away,” Adam told her.
“We’re not giving her away. Pets teach children how to build relationships.”
Adam was debating whether he should press the issue with Maxie, or walk over and strangle his wife to death, when the phone rang. He picked up the cordless handset and looked at the Caller ID, which said CRANE,JONATHAN.
The phone rang again.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Rachel asked him.
Had his wife not been standing there, Adam probably wouldn’t have. But ignoring the phone now would prompt questions he didn’t care to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Adam? It’s Jonathan Crane.”
“Jonathan,” he said, and drifted out of the kitchen. He walked past the living room, headed for his office. “How are you doing?”
“I’m all right. Have you heard about Bobby? About David’s dad?”
“I have. Apparently Bobby burned down a house I’m building, too. Did you know that?”
“I did know that,” Jonathan said. “Some detectives came by my house last night and interrogated me about it.”
“Why you?”
“Because they suspect Bobby didn’t act alone. They think he was working with someone who is still at large.”
“Why would they think that? Have there been more fires?”
Jonathan told him about the emails, about the song lyrics.
“I don’t understand what the lyrics have to do with anything,” Adam said.
“At the restaurant, right before the fire, Bobby told a policeman it was his destiny to die that way, like Todd had made him do it or something. And now that someone is sending clues about the song, it makes it seem as if all three fires are connected. The detective knows what the name of our club was back in the day. Do you remember?”
“The Boys of Summer. Of course I remember. How does he know that?”
“He just does.”
Adam was deeply troubled by this news. He sat down at his desk and stared at the dormant computer screen.
“So if Bobby mentioned Todd, why did the detectives interrogate you?”
“He believes all of us were involved in the original fires back when we were kids. He doesn’t believe it was Todd and Joe Henreid. By that reasoning, the detective assumes I know something about what’s going on now.”
It had taken Adam years to forget about Joe Henreid and all of this. He had no interest in undoing so much effort.
“Is it possible,” he asked Jonathan, “that Todd could be back to exact some kind of revenge?”
“I don’t know, but I think we should talk about it.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Talking about it?”
“I mean sit down and talk in person. David’s in town to take care of his dad, and he’s going to stop by my house tonight. I thought you might like to come by, also.”
“I don’t think so,” Adam said. “Rachel and I have plans.”
“She can come, too. David is bringing his girlfriend, and Alicia Ulbrecht is going to be there as well. You remember her?”
“I’ve got to get going. My daughter has an appointment.”
“Adam, wait. Do you remember that keyboard Todd used to carry around?”
A sound startled him, and Adam jerked his head around. He was sure he had heard feedback, a guitar or maybe a walkie-talkie, as if someone else were trying to communicate with him.
“Say ‘hi’ to David for me. I’m really sorry I can’t make it tonight.”
“What about Joe Henreid? What if—”
Adam pushed a button and ended the phone call.
Memories were bubbling, threatening to surface, and he pushed them back under. Tried to bury them, suffocate them. He stared out the sunny window, watching trees blow in the wind, until Rachel appeared in the doorway.
“Who was on the phone?”
“Jonathan Crane. You remember him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I knew him in school. He’s a junior high teacher now.”
“Oh, yeah. Wants to be a writer.”
Adam realized he wasn’t looking at his wife. He glanced up and said, “That’s him.”
“So? What’d he want? Does he have a book coming out?”
“No, he called to talk about what happened at the restaurant.”
“Oh. I thought you said you weren’t very close friends with Bobby or David.”
“I wasn’t. But Jonathan was sort of Bobby’s half-brother. So it’s a bigger deal to him, I guess.”
“Are you going to meet him?”
“Of course not. I have work to do.”
Rachel didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “You know, about what happened at the restaurant . . . ”
Adam wasn’t looking at her again. With great effort he glanced up and said, “What about it?”
“Well, this is going to sound so stupid . . . I don’t even know how to ask you.”
You wouldn’t think your heart rate could increase so quickly, not without some kind of physical exertion, and yet all at once his chest was being trampled by the thundering hooves of a cattle stampede.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking on the phone.”
“Yes, you could have. I walked out of the kitchen.”
“Your voice carries further than you think, Adam. Anyway, I heard you mention lyrics and that song, ‘The Boys of Summer.’”
“Yeah?”
“Well, you have that notebook you use for work. And I’ve flipped through it before, you know, to get an idea of your days.”
“You look through my notes?”
“Not to snoop. I’m just curious about your work. You don’t talk about it very much.”
Adam glared at her. He wondered if Rachel suspected him of adultery. In fact he sometimes did think about cheating on her, about finding a loose woman to do the kind of naughty things Rachel wouldn’t. But after Jesus had forgiven him for his childhood crimes, he had no room for more sin in his life.
“Anyway, I’ve seen those lyrics in your notebook. From that song.”
“So? It’s a good song.”
Rachel chuckled. “I suppose it is. It just seems a little odd that . . . I mean everything you said on the phone, detectives and fires and lyrics and the name of that song . . . ”
“It was the name of our club when we were kids. The Boys of Summer. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Okay, but that’s not how it sounded on the phone. And it jus
t seems a little odd that you write out those song lyrics, like a lot, and now all this, and . . . Honey, you sounded so frightened on the phone just now.”
Adam stood up. “You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just want to help if you’re worried about something. Talk to me, Adam.”
The uneven light accentuated the angles of her face, the prominence of her cheekbones. Rachel had always been a beautiful woman, and Adam could remember when just the sight of her made his heart thunder the way it thundered now. He stood mere inches from her, close enough to kiss.
“This is a stupid conversation,” he said. “And I’m through with it.”
31
Alicia sat on Jonathan’s leather couch, waiting for him to return with the wine. In less than an hour David would arrive with his girlfriend, but for now it was just the two of them.
A few feet away, Julia Roberts was trying in vain to purchase clothing on Rodeo Drive with a wad of Richard Gere’s money. For some reason it occurred to Alicia how Julia Roberts would always and forever be doing that, taking her handful of hundred dollar bills and shoving it at Héctor Elizondo, the hotel manager; that time would always stand still for those characters even as their real-life counterparts succumbed to gravity and aging skin and withering bones. It also occurred to her that while an eternity of soft skin and functioning organs might be a blessing, being stuck in an eternal Groundhog Day-style loop would not . . . even a loop in which Richard Gere would forever be climbing up the fire escape to rescue his princess.
And then Jonathan was back, carrying a tray with the bottle of white wine, two glasses, and a plate of cheese and crackers.
“Wow,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t realize this was going to be so formal.”
“This is what guys do when we’re trying to impress you. Later it’s beer and brats.”
“That would have been fine this time.”
He laughed and went to work on the bottle of wine. She picked up a cracker and munched on it.
“I like your house. It’s not too dirty but it’s not too clean, either.”
“Not too clean? You’re saying I’m a pig?”
Alicia laughed. “No! That’s not what I meant.”
“You haven’t been here five minutes and already you’re trying to change me.”