For now, there was nothing to do but wait and work. Downcast and distracted, Dave did his job, passing the hours over the flames of the broiler.
A fine sweat drawn from his brow by the heat of the broiler, he cooked for the customers, and as he cooked, he thought about Ernie and death and injustice. He thought about what had happened to Ernie's parents, and he wished that it had never come to pass. He worried about his friend and he hoped that Ernie would be all right.
As afternoon blurred into evening, Dave also began to think of Darlene. He realized that he needed to see her that night, that he needed to be close to her.
He needed to be close to someone.
*****
"Poor Ernie," Darlene said softly, her head resting on Dave's shoulder. "What a thing to happen."
"I know," sighed Dave. "He must be going through Hell right now." Pensively, he stared at the TV, didn't notice what was on the screen.
Though he was still despondent, he did feel a bit better now that he was with Darlene. His spirits were still low, his thoughts were still focused on Ernie's tragedy, but he was comforted by Darlene's concern and affection.
After his shift at the steakhouse, he'd hurried immediately to her home. Though her parents were at a movie and the house was empty, Dave and Darlene had retreated to their favorite hiding place, the basement family room. They had been there for a while now, curled together on the old sofa, the TV flickering but unwatched in the darkness.
"Are you going to see him tomorrow?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said, shifting the arm that he'd entwined about her shoulders. "I really haven't made up my mind yet."
"It might be good for you to see him," suggested Darlene. "It might be good for him to know how much his friends still care about him."
"Maybe," sighed Dave. "Then again, maybe it'd be better to give him some time to sort it all out. I mean, if it was me in that situation, I don't know if I'd want to see anyone for a while."
"I don't think you should wait too long," she said, rubbing his chest. "I think he needs his friends right now, to help him get through this."
"I guess so," he said tentatively.
There was a pause then, a silence broken only by the murmur of the television. One hand stroking Darlene's shoulder, Dave raised the other to massage his left temple; wincing, he wished that the vicious headache that he'd had all evening would let up. He'd already eaten six aspirin in the last three hours, and the headache was as formidable as ever.
"Do you want me to go with you when you see him?" Darlene asked finally.
"I don't know," he said noncommittally. "I guess it'll depend on what kind of shape he's in."
"Well, you just let me know," she told him. "I want to help if I can."
"Okay," he said warmly, touched by the concern in her voice. "Thanks. Seriously, Darlene...thanks."
"Any time," she said, and then she moved to lightly kiss his shoulder. "Anything I can do, you let me know."
"You're already doing plenty," said Dave. "I would've really been miserable tonight if I hadn't been able to see you."
"Me, too," she replied softly. "I'm sorry you feel so bad, but I have to admit I'm happy you're here. I missed you today and yesterday."
"I missed you, too, but I was just so busy," he said apologetically. "Work, studying for finals...and then I got the news about Ernie's folks last night."
"I understand," said Darlene. "I just missed you."
Dave squeezed her shoulder, bowed his head toward hers. "I felt the same way," he whispered. "I thought about you a lot," he lied. While it was true that he cared deeply for her, it was inaccurate to say that she'd been on his mind much recently; Larry Smith had truly dominated his thoughts of late, and Ernie's tragedy was now the center of his interest. Still, after all of Darlene's soothing ministrations that evening, Dave felt obliged to provide her with some comfort in return.
Nuzzling against his shoulder, Darlene reached up to caress his neck. "That's how it is for me, too," she told him. "I want to see you as much as I can. I mean, I don't know what's going to happen, and I...I just want to see you now." With that, her voice dropped away and she grew still against him.
Dave frowned. He felt a tension rise between him and Darlene, a subtle stress. Though she'd stopped short of declaring outright what the source of the tension was, he thought that he knew from her words and the change in her tone: he guessed that she was worried about losing him.
Soon, he would graduate from college, and he didn't know what he would be doing after that. He didn't know if he would be staying in town or leaving, if his relationship with her would thrive or fizzle. When she said things like "I don't know what's going to happen," Dave sensed that she feared that he would leave her; he sensed that she was troubled, and he wanted to comfort her...but he couldn't, because he didn't know what the future held. Though he enjoyed the time that he spent with her, he wasn't even sure if he really loved her, if he loved her enough to want to extend their alliance.
As always, he decided not to explore the issue. He chose to let the awkward interlude pass without comment; there were other, more pressing concerns on his mind, and he believed that any talk of the future would be pointless. If he couldn't give her any answers, there would be no use in listening to her questions.
Anyway, it bothered him to think or talk about the future. The future was foreboding, demanding, unknown; whenever possible, he preferred to ignore it.
"How're your finals going?" he asked her, hoping to redirect the conversation. "You doing all right?"
"I hope so," said Darlene, her voice quiet and distant.
Dave nodded, realizing that the tension was still in force. Though she was still twined about him, she was motionless, no longer moving her hands in gentle rhythms upon his neck and chest.
"Do you have much studying to do for tomorrow?" he pressed.
"Some," she said simply.
Dave paused, not sure how he could dispel her lingering melancholy. Usually, when she was in a funk like that, he could quickly bring her around, but this time, he was having no success.
"Uh, when's your last final?" he asked.
"Wednesday," Darlene replied glumly.
"I'll be done by then, too. Would you like to get together Wednesday night? You know, to celebrate."
"Sure," Darlene said without enthusiasm.
"Good," said Dave. "Let's plan on going out Wednesday night."
"Okay," said Darlene.
"Okay," said Dave, and with that, he ran into a dead end. Her one-word answers had stymied him; he could think of nothing else to say to draw her out. Sighing, he surrendered for the moment, let his head fall back on the sofa.
As he sat there, his unfocused eyes aimed at the ceiling, he began to worry. Her unresponsiveness was lasting too long, far past the point when it usually receded. Dave wondered if it was a danger signal, if it meant that she was finally going to put him on the spot and grill him about their future. Maybe, she was gathering the courage to interrogate him, demand to know his intentions.
Just as he started to grow nervous, the silence was broken. He caught his breath when she lifted her head from his shoulder and spoke.
"Dave?" she said softly, apprehensively.
"Yeah?" Preparing for a difficult exchange, he tensed.
"There's something I want to talk to you about," she continued. "I know this might not be a good time, but I think it's important."
Dave's spirits plunged. Apparently, unfortunately, his prediction had hit the mark. "Well, go ahead," he told her, suddenly feeling stifled and cornered, barricaded by the arms which until then had felt so comfortable around him.
Darlene cleared her throat. "Like I said, this might be a bad time, but I think you might want to hear this."
"Uh-huh," said Dave.
Darlene sighed and shifted against him. "It's...well, it's about Larry."
Surprised, not sure that he'd heard correctly, Dave jerked his head from the back of the sofa. "L
arry?" he said quizzically, gaping at her. "What about Larry?"
"Something he said," Darlene stated slowly. "You told me to tell you if I noticed anything weird going on with him, remember?"
"Yeah." He nodded briskly, relieved but bewildered. "Did you notice something?"
"I think so," she said tentatively, brows knitted in a cautious frown. "It happened Friday night. It was something he said."
"What did he say?" asked Dave.
"It didn't seem weird at the time, you know," said Darlene. "It just hit me today, when I started thinking about it." For an instant, she looked away from Dave, then returned her gaze to his. "Now, you were there when he said it, but I don't think you were paying attention. I mean, you were pretty drunk by then."
"Right," nodded Dave.
"It was near the end of the party, and we were all sitting around talking in the kitchen."
"I remember," confirmed Dave. "I don't remember what we were talking about, but I remember being there."
"Well, you guys were talking about when the next party would be. Billy said it was Ernie's turn to have one, and then Ernie told us about...about his parents going out of town for the weekend." Darlene paused, took a deep breath and slowly released it. "He said he was going to have a party originally, but his sister wanted to have one instead, so he couldn't go through with it."
"Y'know, I vaguely remember that," said Dave, eyes narrowed as he strained at his memory. "I remember him saying he couldn't have a party at his place for a while."
"Right," nodded Darlene. "Do you remember what Larry asked him?"
Dave frowned in concentration, struggling to pry the pertinent data from his mind. Though he could picture the scene in Billy's kitchen, could recall isolated sensations and snippets of dialogue, he couldn't summon the details or even the gist of what Larry had said. Sighing, he shook his head in surrender.
"Well, he asked Ernie all kinds of questions," supplied Darlene. "He asked all about his parents' trip to Lancaster."
Dave searched his memory again, came up empty again. "What all did he ask?"
"It seemed like he wanted to know everything about the trip," said Darlene. "He asked Ernie why his parents were going, who they were going to see, how they were going to get there, how long it would take. From the way he was talking, it sounded like he was thinking of going to Lancaster sometime."
Dave listened intently to what she was telling him. Slowly, his mood started to change; something new began to form at the outer edge of his mind. "What else did he say?"
"Just more about the trip," she replied. "He asked all about the trip, and Ernie told him that if he ever needed a ride to Lancaster, his parents could take him, because they went out that way a lot. Larry said he wasn't ready to go yet, but he might do it sometime." Darlene paused for a beat and her features contracted in a worried frown; her eyes dipped away from his and she struggled with her next words. "Normally...I wouldn't give a second thought about any of this," she said slowly, "but...he just asked so many questions. He even...he even wanted to know what time Ernie's parents were going to leave Saturday."
Dave blinked; his head bobbed backward.
"What else?" he mumbled.
"He asked...he asked about accidents." Clearly, Darlene was reluctant to go on. Sighing, she looked away from him, then back, then away again. "He wanted to know...if there were many accidents on the way to Lancaster this time of year."
Too much; it was too much for Dave to handle. He was shocked, overloaded, simultaneously understanding yet unable to comprehend. "What else?" he asked in a low voice, his glazed eyes trained on the babbling television.
"Nothing else," said Darlene. "Just what I've told you. Like I said, it didn't bother me at first, or I would've mentioned it sooner. I mean, it didn't seem like anything at the time...it didn't seem like anything at all." Her voice shook and trailed off and he felt her tremble against him.
"That's okay," he said dully. "I'm glad you told me now."
Shivering, she dropped her head to his chest. When she spoke, she sounded as if she might be about to cry. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I should've said something earlier."
"No no," Dave said distractedly. "You did the right thing, Darlene."
"I should've told you," she said, finally letting out a sob. "I...you told me he could see the future." She choked, began to sob more freely, twitching against his chest as the emotion took her.
Looking down at her, Dave realized just how upset she was. "Hey," he said softly, trying to sound comforting. "You did the right thing here. All I said was that I thought he might be able to see the future."
"He can see it," sobbed Darlene. "He must be psychic. There were all those things you told me about...and Boris trying to kill himself...and now this." Her voice caught and she took a long, shuddering breath. "He must have known...what was going to happen to Ernie's parents...but I didn't get the hint."
"Hey, listen," said Dave. "There was no way you could've known that what he said might be important. I asked you to tell me if he said anything weird, but the things he asked Ernie sure wouldn't seem weird when you first heard them. If I'd been sober enough to pay attention Friday night, I probably wouldn't've thought anything of it, either." Though he thought that his testimonial sounded convincing, Dave couldn't help but wonder if it was accurate; maybe, if he hadn't been so drunk, he would have picked up on Larry's clues. Maybe, he would have caught on before it was too late.
"Dave...," she sputtered, gripping a fistful of his shirt. "I keep thinking...I could've done something...somebody could've done something...if I'd just told someone. He even asked if there were ever any accidents..."
"We still don't even know for sure," he told her, tendering support even as his own feelings of guilt and regret flourished. "We still don't know if he's psychic." Sighing, he dropped his head toward hers, let her hair brush his chin. "Look," he said, keeping his voice steady yet gentle. "There's nothing you could've done."
"Maybe I could've saved them," sobbed Darlene. "I...I could've told you...and you could've stopped them from going...or I could've stopped them myself."
"I don't think we could've done a thing," he said firmly, doubting the truth of those words even as they left his lips. "They had their minds made up to go, so how could anyone have talked them out of it? Do you think they would've stayed home if we'd told them to, just because a guy we know said something which may or may not have hinted that they'd die on the way? They wouldn't've taken us seriously, Darlene. We wouldn't've been sure enough to take ourselves seriously."
"We should've done something," she said hoarsely. "It's all...my fault."
"Listen," Dave said to the weeping girl in his arms. "It wasn't your fault, you hear me? If it was anybody's fault, it was Larry's."
Darlene took a deep, shaky breath, forced back her sobs. "Why?" she said woefully.
"If he could see what was going to happen," said Dave, "he could've stopped it. If he knew that Ernie's mom and dad were going to die, he should've saved them."
"But the things he said Friday night...," sniffled Darlene. "He was...trying to tell us..."
"No," Dave said firmly, shaking his head. "I don't know what he was trying to do, but he sure wasn't trying to save Ernie's folks. That wasn't much of a warning, if that's what he meant it to be...and not only that, but he could see how drunk most of us were, so how could he expect any of us to get the message?"
"Maybe...he thought you understood," said Darlene.
"Why would he take a chance with something as serious as this? Why wouldn't he do as much as he did to keep Boris from killing himself?"
"I don't know," said Darlene. "You said he might not want anyone to know...he can see the future."
"If he can see the future, and if he doesn't want anyone to catch on, then he sure didn't do a very good job of keeping it secret when he got me to help Boris. When Boris' life was in danger, Larry didn't seem to care if I thought he was psychic or not, so why would he worry about it when Er
nie's mom and dad were in danger?"
"Maybe he knew you figured it out...after what happened with Boris...and he was being more careful."
"I doubt it," said Dave. "If he really wanted to cover his tracks, he wouldn't've said anything Friday night, wouldn't've even given any hints like he did."
"Maybe he still wanted...to do something to help them," suggested Darlene. "Maybe he was afraid to come right out and tell you...so he just said a few little things."
"No," negated Dave, shaking his head. "I was obviously plastered Friday night, so he must've known I probably wouldn't pick up on little hints like that. If he'd wanted to save Ernie's parents, he would've done more. If he'd cared at all, he would've found a way to keep them alive."
"How could he not care?" she asked. "If he knew someone was going to die, how could he not care enough to try to save them?"
"I don't know," Dave answered grimly.
"He wouldn't just let them die, would he?" she said softly. "If he knew, he had do something, wouldn't he?"
"I don't know," Dave told her.
"I don't know what to think," sighed Darlene, letting her head fall against his chest.
"Neither do I," lied Dave. "Neither do I."
At that instant, he rededicated himself to unearthing the truth about Larry Smith. There would be no more lapses, no more drunken inattention; he would work harder and go further than he'd yet dared to go, turn himself into an instrument with only one purpose, one reason for existence.
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