Then, in the more vulnerable spans of silence and emptiness, he wondered if he’d ever come across to someone the way Benji came across to Lauren (even if Lauren wouldn’t admit it). Or, if he was forever cursed to be an object of pity in the eyes of all those around him. Those who ventured close usually brought the same tired remarks of: Oh, you poor thing or It must be all so hard to deal with. Those who got any closer than that wondered if Alley’s illness might jump from his body to theirs, whether they said it out loud (“You’re not contagious, are you?”) or worried about it in a more passive way (“I just have to wash my hands quick, I’ll be right back”).
Which is why Benji was such a fantastic friend—in Benji’s eyes, Alley had always been normal, and his affliction was an afterthought, rather than the other way around. They were always equal.
Still, Alley sometimes wondered, it wouldn’t hurt to have a girl around who was as comfortable around him as Benji was.
In this last thought, Alley rolled over in bed at the sound of his bedroom door squeaking open. The light from the hallway shone in, almost blinding him after so many hours in the dark. The hinges groaned as an outline appeared in the outer hall.
“Mom?” Alley said.
“Honey, my Alley Cat, how have you been feeling?” she asked.
“Much better. Much, much better. I’m probably okay to play video—”
“Games?” his mom said, finishing his sentence for him. “I don’t think so, Al. Doctor’s orders. Not until we know what’s going on.”
His mom leaned in the doorway. He could see that her apron was still tied on tight, could see the dirt on her hands even with her arms crossed. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, just as he remembered seeing her last, and she was wearing big, gaudy hoop earrings that glinted in the light.
“How was work?” he asked.
“Oh,” Mrs. Emerson said, and she laughed. “Just wonderful. Elena called out sick, so it was just Patty and me all afternoon, until the night shift decided to show up. They bust my chops for leaving for the hospital—for my sick son—but Elena calls out and it’s no problem.”
“I’m sorry,” Alley said.
“For what, honey?”
“That I’m such a burden.”
“What?” Mrs. Emerson said, and she gasped and put her hands on her hips. “No, Alley, you’re not a burden. Not a burden at all. Don’t ever say anything so ridiculous.”
“I ruined your shift. You had to work bad hours because of me, and do extra work. Because of me.”
Mrs. Emerson said, “Well, it’s cute of you to worry like that. But, it’s not like it will be a problem for much longer anyways.” She smiled.
“What’s that mean?” Alley asked.
“Oh, Alley. Sweet little Alley.” Mrs. Emerson crossed her arms again, and leaned a little further into the hallway. “I just got off the phone with Dr. Yates. You won’t be around much longer.”
“What did you just say?” Alley said.
“You won’t be around much longer. You are one sick little bastard, you know that? Thank goodness, too. This family is sinking in medical bills and driving itself to madness, waiting on you hand and foot, day after day. What a relief it’ll be.”
“Mom, what are you saying?” Alley said.
“Not much longer,” she said, and she turned down the second floor hallway.
In a flash Alley leapt out of bed, his top sheet and comforter falling to the floor beside him. He bolted out his bedroom door, then down the hall and down the stairs in the direction of his mother. “Get back here,” he screamed. “You don’t mean that. Tell me you don’t mean any of that!” And he felt like crying but he was too angry to cry.
When he reached the landing of the stairs, Benji and Lauren had already sprung up from the couch, preparing themselves to answer Alley’s desperate pleas, whether it be by catching him and calming him down or by dialing 911.
Alley jumped into the living room and looked side to side, scanning the room for his mother.
“Where is she?” he yelled, “Where did she go?”
“Where did who go?” Lauren asked, and she caught her younger brother in her arms, feeling his head for a fever and then inspecting each nostril for traces of blood.
“I’m fine, let me go. Where is she, where is mom?” Alley started pushing and grabbing at Lauren so that she’d loosen her grip.
Lauren shook her brother—carefully, just slightly. He was hysterical and he wasn’t making any sense.
“Alley,” Lauren said. “Listen to me. Mom won’t be home from the diner for another hour or two; dad won’t be home ‘til even later after that. Benji and I are the only ones home.”
“Shit, is there someone in the house?” Benji butted in. He was holding a cordless phone. “Should I still call 911?”
Lauren shook her head and glared at Benji; He’s just confused, you idiot, and she almost called him an idiot out loud for entertaining Alley’s confused thoughts.
“It’s just us three,” Lauren reaffirmed, rubbing Alley’s back and holding him close. “What’s wrong, Al? Did you have a nightmare?”
“I don’t know, Lauren. I don’t know.”
Nineteen
TWO AND A HALF HOURS AWAY, in Portland, Oregon, at 11:06 PM, a phone began to ring at Mr. and Mrs. Hudson’s house. Aaron Hudson, who had recently moved back in with his parents after an unfortunate bout of unemployment, picked up the phone, angered that someone would be calling so late at night.
“Hello?” Aaron said. “Who the hell is this? We don’t want to give any money to any—”
“Aaron,” a voice said, coolly. “It’s me. It’s Danny.”
Aaron, who had immediately recognized the voice, said, “Damn, Danny. What are you doing calling my folks house so late at night?”
“I know that, uh, Mrs. Hudson doesn’t like late night calls. I wouldn’t be phoning you if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“Emergency?” Aaron said.
“Yeah,” Danny said. “Have you been watching the news?”
“No, why? What happened?”
Danny took a long pause.
“Danny?” Aaron said. “Tell me what happened.”
“Todd passed away today—”
Aaron gasped. “I had no idea, Dan. What happened?”
Danny sighed. “It’s…well. No one knows for sure, but, uh. Well, the police are calling it a suicide.”
“How can they be unsure of whether or not it was a suicide?”
“Todd pulled his car onto some train tracks in North Grand Ridge. Went right underneath the crossing gate. He was the only car around for miles, and the engineer said he watched him drive out onto the tracks, so…”
“Mercy,” Aaron said. “I didn’t think in a million years that you’d be calling me with this kind of news. How are you?”
“I’m a mess,” Danny admitted. “A complete mess. It’s a lot going on all at once. I’ve been getting hammered with phone calls all evening asking me to do interviews. How morbid is that? My best friend just died, sure, let me hold a press conference about it. I’ve just wanted to be left alone.”
“I’m so sorry, Dan.”
“The crash was a mess. I mean, there’s nothing left—of him, of his car. It’s…it’s truly awful. I spoke to his parents earlier; they’re flying out for a memorial service. I mean—that’s what it’s got to be, a memorial service. There’s hardly anything left to have a proper funeral.”
“Danny…I’m at a loss for words. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”
Danny exhaled. “Actually, Aaron, that’s why I called you.”
“What’s up? What do you need?”
“Are you still unemployed?”
Aaron laughed. “Yeah.”
“How’s the job hunt going?”
“Not very well,” Aaron said. “It’s been a month now. I’m living with my folks again. Betty left me. It’s been a rough ride, to say the least.”
“Well, I was think
ing. If things aren’t looking up for you, could you come out here for a while? To Grand Ridge? I’ve got extra room at my place, and, well…it’s the arcade. I’ve been left in charge of everything, and I just can’t handle it.”
There was a long pause, then Aaron groaned. “Danny,” Aaron said. “I hate to kick you when you’re down, and I know this is a terrible time, but…”
“But what?”
“The last time you and I talked, you said the arcade was coming up late on rent.”
“That’s true, things could be better. Things could get better.”
“I don’t know, Dan. You and I go way back; of course I’d love to help you out, but… It’s a dying industry, man. It’s not just Planet X in particular. Arcades are going the way of the dinosaurs. I’m just…eh…probably better off staying with my parents for a little bit.”
“Please,” Danny said. “Don’t make me beg. It was hard enough to call you in the first place.”
“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Dan—”
“I’m not asking for money. I’m not asking for loans, or for handouts. I’m asking for someone to help me make cotton candy and keep an eye on the kids, to make sure they’re not using slugs in the machines or sticking gum in the quarter slots. Please, Aaron. We’re barely afloat, but we’re afloat. I can pay you, in cash, for your help. I’m not looking for charity.”
Aaron paused for a short while, considering the offer. It was tempting.
Just then, the door at the top of the basement stairs—beneath which, Aaron had spent the last three weeks sleeping—cracked open. A shrill voice hollered, “Aaron, is that you?”
Aaron whispered, “hold on a sec” into the mouthpiece of his phone, then cupped it with his hand. “What is it, mom?”
“Are you on the phone?”
“Yes,” Aaron hollered back. “Yes I am.”
“Who are you talking to at such an hour?”
“My friend, mom. I’m just talking to my friend. You remember Danny, right?”
“Danny? Is that a girl?”
“No, mom,” Aaron hollered. “Danny is a boy’s name, ma’—”
“Don’t get sassy with me,” Mrs. Hudson said. “It could be a nick name for Danielle, or Daniela…” Mrs. Hudson paused for a moment, then hollered down the stairs, “You’re not on one of those sex lines, are you?”
Aaron shouted back, “Jesus, mom, no—”
“Because you can’t afford it,” she continued, “and I don’t want the bill coming to the house.”
“Goodnight, mom,” Aaron said.
The basement door started to squeak close. “Get some sleep. I don’t want to find out you’ve been calling phone sex operators—”
“Goodnight. Mom.” Aaron repeated, more sternly this time.
“Fine, fine. Goodnight. Say goodnight to Donny for me.” And the basement door clicked shut.
Aaron removed his hand from the mouthpiece of the phone, said, “Hey—are you still there?”
“Yeah,” Danny said, snickering.
“How much of it did you hear?”
“Enough,” Danny said.
Aaron sighed. “What’s the earliest I can meet you in the morning?”
“I thought you’d come around. We normally open the arcade around three—can you make it by then?”
Danny and Aaron heard a click on the line, then a voice said, “Aaron, if you go out tomorrow, we need a few things for the house.”
“What is it, mom?”
“Milk. We need milk, and your father needs hemorrhoid ointment.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“Did you write that down?”
“No, but trust me, I’ll have no problem remembering it.”
“Okay then,” click.
“Is she off the line?” Danny said.
Aaron said, “I think so. And, in regards to what you were saying before—three o’clock should be no problem. No problem at all. I’ll pack up the station wagon in the morning, and be over in a jiffy.”
“That’s great,” Danny said. “Just great. You have no idea how much this means to me. I’ll see you then.”
And he hung up the phone.
Twenty
ALLEY SNOOZED IN THE LIVING ROOM recliner as the clock approached midnight. Benji and Lauren sat on either end of the couch, both reaching towards the coffee table from time to time to pluck a cold, stale slice of pepperoni from a Pizza Hut box.
“How awful,” Lauren said, as images of the afternoon train wreck in North Grand Ridge flashed across the television screen. She slowly chewed her pizza as the camera panned across the wreckage. “That explains all fire trucks and ambulances we saw on Little Hollow today.”
“I can’t believe it happened to Todd, of all people.” Benji bit off a piece of pizza, frowned, and tossed the slice back in the box. “I hope the arcade doesn’t close down over this.”
“That’s kind of a selfish way of looking at it.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t really know the guy. Should I have said something more personable?”
“Who cares about the stupid arcade? The man was hit by a train.”
“You used to really like that stupid arcade,” Benji said, and the front door of the Emerson’s home clicked open.
“Kids…kids…” Mrs. Emerson said, bustling through the door. “You shouldn’t be up so late, I’m sorry. Half the night crew called out. I wasn’t supposed to stay so late.” Mrs. Emerson untied her apron and hung it on a key rack beside the door.
“You could have at least called, mom,” Lauren said.
“Well, Lauren. I haven’t had five seconds to myself in the past six hours, so I apologize that I didn’t call.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. Alley didn’t stir.
“How’s he been?” Mrs. Emerson said.
“Out like a light,” Benji answered.
Lauren said, “There was a problem, earlier—”
“What kind of problem?” Mrs. Emerson blurted.
“He had a nightmare or something. He wasn’t making any sense. He kept saying that he saw you.”
Mrs. Emerson stood at the front of the living room, hands on hips, looking Alley up and down. She glided over to where he sat, curled up in a fetal position, sleeping, and gently brushed her palm over his forehead, sweeping away some stray hairs.
Alley opened one eye and grumbled, “Mom?”
“Long day, sleepy head?” Mrs. Emerson said.
Alley outstretched his arms, childlike, wrapped them around his mother and held tight.
Benji couldn’t help but notice how white Alley looked, ghost-like, and the way he turned into a puddle in his mother’s embrace; more a child sick with chickenpox than a young teenager.
“I’ll take him up to bed,” Mrs. Emerson said. “Did he eat?” and she nodded her head at the grease-stained box on the coffee table.
“A little,” Lauren said.
“Good. He can take his nightly dose, then.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Lauren said to Benji, and Mrs. Emerson guided her frail child up the flight of stairs behind them.
Benji and Lauren stood on the porch for a while, quietly. They leaned against the railing on the front of the deck, listening to the cicadas in the still, clear night. Shady Reach was quiet, save for the cicada’s droning hum, or the occasional passing car. The street was well lit, empty.
“Some day, huh?” Benji said, at last breaking the silence.
“You can say that again,” Lauren said, and she sighed.
“Some day. Huh.”
Lauren punched Benji on the shoulder, smiling reluctantly. “You’re such a dweeb.”
The two stood a while longer, watching the crescent moon that hung low in the sky, until Lauren said: “This isn’t how summer was supposed to start.”
“Sure isn’t,” Benji said. Always the eternal optimist, he added, “But we have the whole summer to turn it around.”
At that very moment the universe, the cosmic joker that it is, decid
ed that Rodney Frye should pass by the front of the Emerson home on his bike. The sound of spinning spokes and tires cut the quiet night air, until Rodney glided to a stop on the sidewalk just beyond the house.
“Hey Bauer,” Rodney yelled. “Funny seeing you with a girl.”
“Buzz off,” Benji said. “I’m too tired for your shit tonight, Rodney.”
“Oh! The little puppy barks,” Rodney said, and he grinned a big, dumb, grin that stretched across his round face. “But does he bite?”
Benji shook his head and looked down at the lawn. Until this moment he had nearly forgotten Rodney Frye’s existence—it shouldn’t be too hard to ignore him for a little while longer.
“I’ve got a theory,” Rodney said, “why you’re hanging out with the female variety now.” Rodney put his hands together. “Your first boyfriend,” clap, “is road kill in North Grand Ridge. And your second boyfriend…” Rodney stood, bike between his legs, pantomiming being electrocuted, his whole body shaking, “is too far gone to stroke you off anymore.”
Lauren whispered, “Don’t let him get to you.” But, Benji was already puffing up his chest.
“Shouldn’t you be in a swamp right now, Rodney, visiting your dad for the first time this year?”
“I’m not visiting him this year, dickweed, and don’t you ever say a word about my father. Understand? My dad could own your dad in a—” and Rodney snapped his fingers.
“Yeah, well, at least my dad didn’t disown me,” Benji said.
Rodney threw his bike to the ground. “Get off that porch, Bauer. Don’t think I won’t go through twiggy if I have to.”
“You’re saying you’d hit a girl?” Benji said, looking at Lauren. “Even for you, that’s low. You’d think after all your mom and dad have been through, you’d learn a thing or two about what happens to men who hit women.”
Benji had never dared to taunt Rodney in such a way before. Everyone in town was aware of the Frye’s abusive marriage prior to their divorce, but it went politely unspoken. There were rules of war, even among teenagers. You could beat the hell out of one another, taunt one another, but there were some topics that simply went too far, and it was understood by all parties that they were never to be mentioned. If you hated someone’s guts, you didn’t make fun of them when their dog died or their dad got laid off from work. The same way you didn’t make light of someone being hit by a train, or someone being sick. But, hey, if Rodney wasn’t going to follow the rules, why should Benji?
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