“If you were a real friend, you wouldn’t just sit there and laugh every time Addison said something mean.”
Tommy wheeled away and was headed down the lawn, strapping his book bag on. At the edge of the lawn he looked back and shouted, unnecessarily, “Goodbye!”
And then he was walking down Owens Street, past all the other ranch houses.
Mark Powers didn’t go straight home. They were out of milk and so driving to the Quik Mart was absolutely essential. He parked in the little lot of the strip mall, entered the Quik Mart and stood still. Transfixed by the flickering fluorescent bulbs he stood there in the entrance of the store, legs apart, arms down, and stared up.
“Sir,” a woman tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, can I help you?”
Mark looked at her in sudden amazement then shook his head.
He realized he’d been humming along with the fluorescent light.
“Uh?” he shook his head again.
“Are you all right, sir?”
“Heart condition,” Mark lied with a smile. “It happens sometime.”
The girl looked around and said, “We have a employee bathroom. Do you need water. Or... an aspirin?”
“No,” he patted her gently on the arm. She was small, blond, wore a blue smock. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
He smiled at her and went for the milk, feeling his skin turn cold and hot all at once. What had that been all about? Why did he find himself in situations like these? He did. Now and again, doing odd things for no particular reason.
And as he thought about that Mark Powers made his second blunder of the night and pulled his glasses off his nose.
The man he had crashed into was also wearing glasses and blinking back at him, laughing.
“Are you all right, Dr—Mark?”
Mark screwed his face up, squinted and realized it was Rick Howard. Only, Rick Howard in bifocals. Of course he wore bifocals. Neither one of them was that young anymore.
“I’m so sorry. It’s a... I’m having a clutzy night.”
“It happens to everyone,” Rick said.
“I’m just here for milk. That should be a fairly easy operation.”
“Milk is in aisle five,” Rick shook the little half gallon he held in his hand. “Usually I put away a gallon of this stuff a week. Some people are into booze. I’m a milk freak.”
“Milk freak,” Mark grinned. “I just get it for Chris. I still have a hard time getting excited about milk. But,” he shrugged. “Are you cutting back or something?”
“No,” Rick said, there’s this… It’s actually sort of silly. It’s an Irish memorabilia convention. Claddaghs, fake Blarney Stones, old road signs. I’m going to on Saturday. I was supposed to go with Dick Mathers. You know him?”
“Not really.”
“Teaches geometry,” Rick said. “He used to go to Saint Vitus’s. That’s why I thought you might know him. But now the jerk isn’t going and I’m stuck with a ticket I paid too much for.”
“Oh,” Mark raised an eyebrow. Then he said, “Well, have a good time.”
Mark nodded and went down the aisle.
“Mark?” said Rick.
“Yes?”
“You were about to say something.”
“No I wasn’t.”
“Yes,” Rick corrected him. “You were.”
“It’s just,” Mark began. He looked genuinely frustrated.
“You wouldn’t believe this but I have a huge, well a semi-huge collection of little walking sticks and… a fake Blarney Stone, shot glasses from Dublin. I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland. My grandparents on both side are Irish… From Galway and I love all that stuff.”
“Well, then why don’t you go with me?”
“Really?”
The smile on Mark’s face was so hilarious Rick clapped his hands together and chuckled.
“Yes, really.”
“How much do I need to pay? For my half?”
Rick shook his head.
“That’s not necessary.”
Mason Darrow was lying on his bed, basically feeling bad about himself and trying to blame Tommy. Only he couldn’t. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he was a bad friend.
No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes…
“But I don’t have blue eyes,” Mason murmured.
Mason wished he had a remote control for his stereo. Maybe he’d hit his parents up for one. He climbed off the bed and went to turn off the boom box, and then jumped back onto the bed and began sketching in his notebook.
“I could study,” Mason thought. There was a big history test tomorrow.
“I could,” Mason said again, looking at his history book on the floor, and then turning back to the sketch pad.
Mason jumped up and shouted.
He thought he’d heard a thump.
He took a breath and sat back down.
But there was another thump. And then another.
It was from the window.
Mason got up and went to the curtain. He pulled back the curtain in one quick move and saw a sign pressed to the window.
Mason opened the window and Tommy took the sign down and looked at his friend, smiling nervously.
Mason picked up the sign.
“I’M SORRY.”
Tommy took a breath.
Mason held out his hand. Tommy caught it and his friend pulled him into the window. They both sat on the bed.
“Mason—” Tommy began, and they both said, “I’m sorry—”
And then they both shook their heads and laughed.
“I went a little crazy,” Tommy said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t do anything right, either,” Mason said.
“Addison just gets to me, sometime.”
“Addison’s your friend. You know he doesn’t mean it.”
“Yes he does.”
“Well…” Mason agreed, “Yes. But he doesn’t mean to attack you. He just has... No tact. He forgets himself. He felt bad after you left.”
“I just wish Addison...”
“Was saved?”
Tommy looked at Mason, considering. Then he said, “No. I just wish we still got along the way we used to.”
“Do you know,” Addison began, pulling away from Becky and still kissing her as he talked, “there was this couple, a few years back? Got found outside of county limits dead, naked and in a snowdrift. In the guy’s pickup truck.
“They’d been,” he kept sucking on her throat as he whispered, “fucking. And then they went to sleep and left the car on.”
Addison kissed her again.
“Buh bye, lovebirds.”
“That,” Becky said pulling away from him, “is why we need a room.”
“We’ll have a whole house this weekend.”
“I can’t believe Mason is letting you do that.”
“He’s my friend.”
“Yeah… but still… He’s some friend.”
“That he is.”
“I mean… You should check with him about this. Is he really cool with it?”
“Do you want to or not?” Addison said.
“Of course I do. I asked you.”
“Because if you don’t want to.”
“I do,” Becky said. “Do you want me to beg?”
Addison grinned at her. “Yeah. On hands and knees in leather.”
“Wait for the weekend,” she told him, buttoning her blouse up and sitting up straighter.
She said:“Did Mason tell Tommy?”
“What? No! God, I hope not. I bet Mason would know better. That would be... Oh, God! Me and Tommy don’t even get along anymore. We had a huge fight. Well, really, I said something and then he just got up and left the house. Mason’s house. He and Mason had a huge fight. I didn’t even think about going after him. I’d pushed Tommy Dwyer’s buttons a little too much already.”
Becky looked at Addison sadly.
“Did you say something stupid again?”
“It wasn’t stupid. It was true. But...It probably wasn’t necessary.”
“You do that a lot to him.”
“I know. Usually it starts out as fun. But sometimes... Sometimes it’s all so stupid. I just wish he’d wake the fuck up and think. I get... He gets me upset after a while and then I just say things. And I need to make it up to him, and I will make it up to him. It’s just...”
“It’s his faith,” Becky said. “You know it means something to him.”
“I get that,” Addison said. “But lots of people have faith. Hell, Mason has faith. But it’s his faith. He’s not trying to get me saved and get me going to his fucking church and…. The way Tommy goes on it’s like I’m going to hell any day, and that gets old after a while. Really it does.”
“Still,” Becky said, “it’s neat. You know. Having faith in something.”
“Even if it’s something stupid?” Addison said.
“Anything,” said Becky. “I sort of envy Tommy.”
“I don’t envy that at all.”
“That’s because you’re always saying you’re an atheist.”
“I am an atheist,” Addison told her.
Becky didn’t look at him. She just leaned into him and said dreamily, “I don’t believe you.”
The next morning Balliol’s heard a slam against a locker, and as he shut his locker he turned to see, of all people, Chris Powers.
First he looked to Mason and Tommy, who were taking books from their lockers. And then he turned to Chris
Chris Powers just glowered at him, and finally, belligerently, Balliol said, “What?”
“You...” Chris began, “Are not... a good person.”
“Do you have any more to say?” Balliol rubbed his ear and contemplated slapping Chris on the side of his head.
Chris really didn’t have anymore.
“Or are you just going to stand there to the end of the day looking stupid?”
“That’s what I mean,” Chris said. “You have no respect for anybody.”
“Respect for anybodies like you?” Balliol looked him up and down, “Because I certainly don’t have respect for fools who come to my locker and tell me, and not even in a half way intelligent fashion, that I’m no good. I might even ask what prompted this except that would imply that I cared. And I don’t.”
“You don’t care about anything.”
“I care about getting to class on time. Well,” Balliol furrowed his brow. “Not that either, really. Come to think of it…. You got me.”
“You don’t care about Sullivan. He told me what you said.”
Balliol did a double take and then looked around, wondering where Sully was. He took a breath.
“You know what?” Balliol said. “Against my better judgment, and completely out of character for me, I’m going to ask you what you’re talking about.”
“Last night Sully told me that you told him he didn’t have any friends but you—”
“All right,” Balliol threw up a hand. Rage had sneaked up on him and now, he was finally pissed off.
“One: unless Sullivan Reardon’s sucking your dick or you’re sucking his, he has no business crying to you about the things we say in private arguments. Two: you don’t know me, so mind your business. And Three...” Balliol shook his head in disbelief and said, “Refer to One and Two.”
“Chris!” Sully said, coming down the hall, and then he turned and saw Balliol and Mason and Tommy. “What’s this?”
“Sully,” Chris said. “You wanna eat lunch with me and the gang today?”
Sullivan opened his mouth
“We might be jocks, but we’re not all idiots.”
Balliol opened his mouth, but Mason felt the need to gently touch him, and shake his head.
“Well,” Sully said, “yeah. All right. If you’re sure.”
“Of course I’m sure,” Chris said. He frowned at Balliol.
“Later,” he told him Mason and walked off.
“Well, we’re sitting with the football team,” Sully said. And then, at the look on Balliol’s face, Sully said: “What?”
When Balliol, who was never at a loss for words, said nothing, Mason stepped in and said, “I think it was you who was invited, Sullivan. Not both of you.”
“But—” Sully began.
“I hate Chris Powers,” Balliol said. “In fact, I hate all those bastards. But, yes, you go eat with them. Go to the mall with them. Go to the moon with them.”
“You know what?” Sullivan told him. “I think I will!”
“Great,” Balliol shrugged.
“And what’ll you do?” Sully demanded.
And then, for reasons as disparate as Black unity and a long dislike of Sullivan Reardon, Mason said, “For starters, he’ll be eating with us.”
After Mass, Joel went into the sacristy and came out with the candlesnuffer. Going back to the altar he encountered Mark approaching with the dishes and chalice.
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“In a church?” Mark said. “I’m clear for lunch today.”
“I’m free for about…” Joel stopped, genuflected, put out the lights around the altar and then, looking at his watch said, “forty-five minutes if you want to grab a bite.”
Mark nodded, and Father Gerlach came out with his stole in one hand.
“Thank you, boys,” he told them. And folded up the podium on the altar. “Good boys,” he murmured.
On their way back to the sacristy of Saint Patrick’s they both grinned and Joel said, “Do you think Father Gerlach will ever let us grow up? Or will we be kids forever?”
“When you’re almost a hundred years old, being forty probably means just about nothing,” Mark said, putting down the glass dishes. “And you know what? I kind of like being called a kid. Guess where I’m going this weekend?”
Joel, fallen into old habits, was taking meticulous care to straighten out the priests vestments that had been left on the table.
“Hum? he said.
“To The Irish Memorabilia Convention.”
“They have those?”
Mark looked offended.
“Yes,” he said at length. “They do. And Dick Howard had a spare ticket.”
“That’ll be good for you,” Joel said. “I think you get tied up with work too much.”
“That’s not true,” Mark said. “I hang out with you guys.”
“But you don’t get to do a lot of stuff. It’s neat to see you meeting new people.”
“You sound like my mom.”
“I’m not your mom, but I was almost your dad,” Joel said, winking at him.
Mark shoved him in the shoulder.
“It’s why you love me,” Joel said walking out behind him.
They both genuflected as they passed the tabernacle and then, waving at Father Gerlach, walked off the altar steps and headed out of the empty church.
“You getting a life,” Joel dipped his finger in the holy water of the baptismal font. “Me getting a date. Could be a miracle.”
“Or a symbol of the end of the world.” Mark crossed himself too as they headed into the sunlight.
“See,” Joel told him, “and I was trying to stay on the bright side of things.”
“Do we need to get a change of clothes tomorrow?” Mason said, as he was pulling books out of his locker. “Why do I even take these? I know I won’t do it.” He said looking at his math book and his Latin book.
“No, it’s just for the day,” Tommy said. “We’ll be back at night.”
Then a thought went through Tommy’s head.
“Hey, Balliol?”
“Yes,” Balliol looked up cautiously, as he closed his locker.
“Do you think you’d want to go with us this weekend?”
“To?”
“It’s this Christian youth conference. There’ll be great music and everything...”
Mason’s eyes swiveled from Tommy to the look on Balliol’s face, and before Balliol could say anything, Mason gripped his arm and dragged him into the corner between the last locker and Mr. Affler’s classroom.
“If you have any respect for me,” Mason said. “You’ll say yes.”
Balliol opened his mouth.
“I have been dreading this day for months.”
“Tommy’s really into that, huh?”
“Yes,” Mason said desperately.
“You know what?” Balliol said. “It could be fun.”
Mason blinked at Balliol, who he didn’t know that well, and had only seen telling people off in the bathroom.
“That’s a yes?” Mason said, amazed.
“That’s a yes,” Balliol said, and walked out ahead of Mason.
Tommy was waiting for them, hands folded together.
“I just had to make sure I was free tomorrow,” Balliol said, lightly. It was strange because he was never light or deceptive. “And it turns out that I am.”
At the smile on Tommy’s face, Balliol wondered why he couldn’t be nicer more often.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Balliol said, and headed in the opposite direction. Outside the school he ran into Sully and asked, “How was lunch for you?”
“Lunch,” Sully proclaimed, “was wonderful. The guys on the team are really cool.”
“Are they?” Balliol said, and then tried to make himself sound a little nicer. “I mean... I never knew.”
“You should give them a chance,” Sully said. “And tomorrow there’s the football game.”
Balliol blinked twice at Sully.
“You’re going to a football game?”
“I love football,” Sully proclaimed.
“Since when?”
Sully looked slightly offended. “Since always.”
Balliol just turned him a frown.
“You’re going to a football game?”
“I thought we would go,” Sullivan said.
“I can’t,” Balliol told him.
Now Sully looked at him in disbelief.
“What?” Sully said. “You’ve suddenly got plans?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Tommy Dwyer and Mason Darrow just invited me to go with them somewhere.”
Sullivan Reardon was instantly incensed. It would take him awhile to realize that it was the upset over the truth that while he had been over the roof about having one friend, Balliol had just snapped his fingers and effortlessly gained two. Yes, that was part of it. And he wasn’t even invited to the whole thing. Balliol hadn’t thought of inviting him.
“Well,” Sully said, “I hope you have a good time.”
“I hope I do too,” Balliol replied, shifting his messenger bag on his shoulder.
And though they were still walking down the hall side by side, Balliol knew, in a way, that they had suddenly separated.