was not at all surprised to see him there; he simply assumed that it was a new dream.
'Hi, Arnie,' he said. 'How's it hanging?'
'Hanging good,' Arnie said, 'but you look like you're still asleep, Dennis. Want some head-noogies? That'll wake you up.'
There was a brown bag on his lap, and Dennis's sleepy mind thought: Got his lunch after all. Maybe Repperton didn't squash it as bad as we thought. He tried to sit up in the bed, hurt his back, and used the control panel to get into what was almost a sitting position. The motor whined. 'Jesus, it's really you!'
'Were you expecting Ghidrah, the Three-Headed Monster?' Arnie asked amiably.
'I was sleeping. I guess I thought I still was.' Dennis rubbed his forehead hard, as if to get rid of the steep behind it. 'Happy Thanksgiving, Arnie.'
'You bet,' Arnie said. 'Same to you. Did they feed you turkey with all the trimmings?'
Dennis laughed. 'I got something that looked like those play-dinners that came with Ellie's Happy-Time Cafeteria when she was about seven. Remember?'
Arnie put his cupped hands to his mouth and made ralphing noises. 'I remember. What a gross-out.'
'I'm really glad you came,' Dennis said, and for a moment he was perilously close to tears. Maybe he hadn't realized just how depressed he had been, He redoubled his determination to be home by Christmas. If he was here on Christmas Day, he'd probably commit suicide.
'Your folks didn't come?'
'Sure they did,' Dennis said, 'and they'll be back again tonight - Mom and Dad will be, anyway - but it's not the same. You know.'
'Yeah. Well, I brought some stuff. Told the lady downstairs I had your bathrobe.' Arnie giggled a little.
'What is that?' Dennis asked, nodding at the bag. It wasn't just a lunchbag, he saw; it was a shopping bag.
'Aw, I raided the fridge after we et the bird,' Arnie said. 'My mom and dad went around visiting their friends from the University - they do that every year on Thanksgiving afternoon. They won't even be back until around eight.'
As he talked, he took things out of the bag. Dennis watched, amazed. Two pewter candle-holders. Two candles. Arnie slammed the candles into the holders, lit them with a matchbook advertising Darnell's Garage, and turned off the overhead light. Then four sandwiches, clumsily wrapped in waxed paper.
'The way I recall it,' Arnie said, 'you always said that scarfing up a couple of turkey sandwiches around eleven-thirty Thursday night was better than Thanksgiving dinner, anyway. Because the pressure was off.'
'Yeah,' Dennis said. 'Sandwiches in front of the TV, Carson or some old movie. But, honest to God, Arnie, you didn't have to - '
'Ali, shit, I haven't even been around to see you in almost three weeks. Good thing for me you were sleeping when I came in or you probably would have shot me.' He tapped Dennis's two sandwiches. 'Your favourite, I think. White meat and mayo on Wonder Bread.'
Dennis got giggling at that, then laughing, then roaring. Arnie could see it hurt his back, but he couldn't stop. Wonder Bread had been one of Arnie and Dennis's great common secrets as children. Both of their mothers had been very serious about the subject of bread; Regina bought Diet-Thin loaves, with an occasional side-trip into the Land of Stone-Ground Rye. Dennis's mother favoured Roman Meal and pumpernickel loaves. Arnie and Dennis ate what was given them - but both were secret Wonder Bread freaks, and more than one occasion they had pooled their money and instead of buying sweets they had gotten a loaf of Wonder and a jar of French's Mustard. They would then slink out into Arnie's garage (or Dennis's tree-house, sadly demolished in a windstorm almost nine years before) and gobble mustard sandwiches and read Richie Rich comic books until the whole loaf was gone.
Arnie joined him in his laughter, and for Dennis that was the best part of Thanksgiving.
Dennis had been between room-mates for almost ten days, and so had the semi-private room to himself. Arnie closed the door and produced a six-pack of Busch beer from the brown bag.'Wonders will never cease,' Dennis said, and had to laugh again at the unintentional pun, 'No,' Arnie said, 'I don't think they ever will.' He toasted Dennis over the candles with a bottle of beer. 'Prosit.' 'Live for ever,' Dennis responded. They drank.
After they had finished the thick turkey sandwiches, Arnie produced two plastic Tupperware pie-wedges from his apparently bottomless bag and prised off the lids. Two pieces