Eventide (Plainsong #2)(78)

INSIDE THE TAVERN THE BARMAID HAD HURRIED BACK TO the rest room holding her blouse together, and the men were tending to the old man, who’d bumped his head on one of the tables and was sitting awkwardly on the floor. There was a knot above his ear and he kept mumbling something. They lifted him to his feet and one of the men patted the boy on the back, congratulating him for what he’d done, but the boy ducked away from under the man’s hand.

Leave us alone! he cried. All of you, leave us alone! He stood facing the ring of men. He was almost in tears. Leave us alone, goddamn you!

Why, what the hell? one of the men said. You little son of a bitch, we were trying to help you.

We don’t want your help. Leave us alone.

He took his grandfather by the arm and led him back to their table. We got to go home, he said. He helped the old man into his coat and put on his own coat and gathered up his homework papers, and they went outside.

They walked down the sidewalk past the darkened storefronts. Cars drove past in the street. Across the tracks they turned in at their quiet neighborhood, and went on toward the little dark house. He put his grandfather to bed in the back room, helping him remove his overalls and workshirt and covering him with blankets. The old man lay back in his long underwear and shut his eyes.

Will you be all right now, Grandpa?

The old man opened one eye and peered at him. Yes. Go on, get to bed.

DJ turned the light off and went to his room. Once he was undressed he began to cry. He lay across the bed, hitting at the pillow in the dark. Goddamn you, he sobbed. Goddamn you.

After a while he got up and dressed once more and went into the other bedroom to check on his grandfather, then he went outside to wander the night streets. He crossed the railroad tracks and walked into the south side of Holt, out along the shadowed dark sidewalks past the silent houses.





40


IT WAS LATE BUT NOT YET MIDNIGHT WHEN RAYMOND walked out of Rose’s house to his pickup. They had gone again to the Wagon Wheel Café for dinner and the café had been even more crowded this time, but it didn’t matter, they were having a good time, and afterward they had gone back to her house and drunk coffee and made love. Now he was going home. It was a fine spring night and he was feeling full of pleasure, fortunate beyond any accounting. He started the pickup and he was thinking warmly about Rose, then he got to the corner and there was a boy about to cross the street. Raymond slowed down and the boy stood under the light waiting for him to pass. He saw who it was and stopped. Son, is that you?

The boy didn’t say anything.

DJ, that’s you, isn’t it?

Yes, it’s me.

He stood at the edge of the street, his hands in his coat pockets.

What are you doing? Raymond said. Are you all right?

I’m all right.

Where you going to?

I’m just out walking.

Well. Raymond sat looking at him. Why don’t you get in and let me drive you home. It’s late out here.

I’m not going home yet.

I see. Raymond studied him. Then why don’t you get in and we’ll just drive a little.

You probably need to be somewhere.

Son, there’s no place else for me to be right now. I’d be glad for the company. Why don’t you come get in.

The boy stood looking at him. He looked away up the street. He stood for some time looking up the street. Raymond waited. Then the boy came around in front of the pickup and got in on the passenger side.

You’re just out walking. Is that it? Taking the night air.

Yes sir.

Well, it’s a nice night for it.

Raymond started the pickup and drove out of the dark neighborhood onto Main Street and turned south among the high-school kids in their cars, past the closed stores and the movie house, which had already let out for the night. When they passed the tavern the boy stared at the front of the building, and then turned sideways to look out the back window. At the highway Raymond headed west and drove out past the Legion and Shattuck’s Café, where people were parked in cars at the drive-up under the long tin canopy roof, and then on out of town.

You want to just drive on a ways? Raymond said. Would that be all right with you?

Yes sir.

I wouldn’t mind it myself. Crank that window down if you want some air.

The boy rolled down his window and they went on. The yardlights of the farms were scattered out beyond the dark open fields and at every mile a graveled section road ran exactly north and south, and all along the new spring weeds were growing up at the roadside. A rabbit darted across the pavement in front of them, heading off into the weeds, its white scut flashing as it zigzagged away.

Raymond glanced at the boy. What you suppose spooked him out on the highway?

I wouldn’t know.

The boy was looking straight ahead.

Son, is there something bothering you? Raymond said. You seem a little upset to me.

Maybe.

You kind of seem like it. Is it something you’d care to talk about?

I don’t know.

Well, I can sure listen anyhow. If you want to try.

The boy turned to look out the side window, the headlights shining ahead on the dark road. Then all at once he began to talk. It came pouring out of him, about the fight at the tavern and about the man hurting the barmaid and his grandfather. And he was crying now. Raymond drove on and the boy kept crying and talking. After a while he stopped, he seemed to have spent himself. He wiped at his face.