me carefully—I’m stone in love with that old girl. You understand? She’s coming back to me, Joe.
I walked in and lay down on the cot for a good half hour. It didn’t smell like Sonja. I was glad because I couldn’t have taken that. When I got up and went back out, Cappy still had not shown up.
I could maybe eat that sandwich now, Uncle.
Whitey went to the cooler and took out the baloney, cheese, and bread. There was a head of iceberg lettuce in there and he carefully tore off three pale green leaves and placed them on the meat before closing the sandwich.
Lettuce? I asked.
I’m on a health kick, me.
He handed over the sandwich and made one for himself. Then he gave me that one too.
Your friend’s here.
Cappy came in the door and I handed him a sandwich.
The three of us went back outside and ate sitting in the lawn chairs.
Uncle, I said, we could use a little something.
He ate his whole sandwich. I don’t wonder, he said when it was gone. But if you tell Geraldine or Doe, it is my saggy old red ass on the line here. Plus any future supply of stuff for you. And you have to drink it out back behind the station in those shade trees where I can keep on my eye on the botha youse.
We’ll abide by your conditions, said Cappy in a formal tone. His face was expressionless.
Handle the trade, said Whitey. There was no one in sight. He went back to open the safe, where he kept his booze. He brought out half a quart of Four Roses and pointed it toward the trees. Cappy took the bottle and put it underneath his shirt. A customer pulled up. Whitey waved and walked over to the car.
Does he know?
I think so, I said. I puked when he told me about Lark.
I puked riding over here, said Cappy.
It’s just the summer flu, I said.
Is that a medical opinion, Joe?
We looked at each other and tried to smile, but instead our mouths dropped open. Our faces fell into our real expressions.
What are we? asked Cappy. What are we now?
I don’t know, man. I don’t know.
Let’s sterilize our insides.
Right on.
Beneath the trees there were four or five cement blocks, a litter of crushed cans, a circle of ash. We sat down on the blocks and opened the bottle. Cappy took a cautious drink, then handed it to me. I took a fiery mouthful and let it trickle down. The burning mellowed as the stuff reached inside of me, loosening my chest with a slow warmth and easing my gut. After the next sip I felt better. Everything looked amber. I took my first deep breath.
Oh, I said, bowing my head and passing the bottle back to Cappy. Oh, oh, oh.
Yes? said Cappy.
Oh.
He drank more deeply. I picked up a branch and scraped the bits of charred wood and speckled gravel away from the ash, destroying the circle. Cappy watched the movements of my branch and I kept moving the branch until we’d finished the bottle. Then we lay down in the weeds.
Brother, I said, what made you come to the overlook?
I was always there, said Cappy. Every morning. I always had your back.
I thought so, I said. And then we slept.
After we woke up, Whitey made us rinse out our mouths, gargle with mouthwash, and eat another sandwich.
Gimme your shirt, Joe, he said. Leave it here. Touch the bottle again. You, too, Cappy.
I gave him my shirt and walked home. Cappy coasted beside me. We did not feel particularly drunk. We did not feel anything. But we wove from side to side on the road, unable to keep on a straight course. We thought that Angus and Zack would be looking for us.
We should all four be hanging out all the time, now, together, said Cappy.
We’ll keep training for cross-country in the morning.
That’s right.
Pearl came out from beneath her bush and walked with me up to the house. Before I went in the door, I played with her and made myself laugh. I took her inside with me because I was afraid that my parents would be sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me, as indeed they were. When I opened the door and saw them, I bent over and rubbed Pearl’s neck and talked to her. I stood up to greet them and let the smile drop off my face.