Riding Trains Together

[ChrisGibson]

THE JOURNEY IN THE PRESENT REMINDS THEM OF THE PAST AND THE DANCE THAT NEARLY RUINED EVERYTHING

They kept driving, and the fields covered in snow kept rolling by, turning to trees, hills, overpasses and wandering cows until Swann said, “Sal, where are we going?”

Sal said, “I really don’t know.”



The sex triangle that happened with Chuck and Chris and him took place in the nights and sometimes in the middle of the afternoons, but whatever it was, it took a short enough time in a twenty four hour day. There was the usual run of classes and choir, and Chris played soccer and still ran track, and Swann was still in art classes and spent much of his time with Jill. But Jim Hanna was with them now, much of the time, and Jill asked, “Do you mind?”

“I actually don’t,” Swann said.

Jim was not overly bright, but he was nice. When he did jerky things you only had to tell him he was being a jerk, a bit of a bully to younger or unpopular kids, and he would stop.

“You don’t know what it is to be unpopular,” he told Jim, and Jim said, “Well, neither do you.”

Swann blinked at him.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

Now Jim looked at him.

“Well, what are you talking about?”

Apparently, as far as Jim was concerned, Swann was not unpopular at all, and this meant Swann would have to question the way he had thought of himself.

That semester they had Brother Herulian for geology, and sometimes he wore a habit and once in a while he wore black pants, a black shirt and a Roman collar. Sometimes he wore a flannel and jeans. Sometimes he would stop, lean against the desk and say, “Guys, if there’s one thing I want you to learn from this class, it’s a wonder for the world. God made a beautiful world.”

“Look at this geode, guys. You see this stone layer, and then inside here’s the crystal, and look! A whole different layer, and these inside of here look like amethysts. It’s like someone hid a treasure inside of a rock so it wouldn’t be found!”

He taught them about the history of the earth and how they all lived on great plates that moved against each other and had moved over billions of years, and how once the whole world was one vast continent, and it had drifted apart the way it came together, just like cake mix.

“Or like shit in a bowl,” Nick Moussilios joked, and Swann frowned, his grand vision of the past tinged by the scent of toilet water.



But the truth is it was a good year, and most of the nights were spent with his roommates and Jill and Jim and Annette, who was deeply in love with Brad. Often Varlon and Vinnie were there, and they brought Anita and Taisha.



Back in those days, the only thing Swann knew about Sal Goode was that he was taking Suzanne Meyer to the spring dance, and the only reason he knew this was because he and Jill referred to Suzanne as “that bitch in our class last year.” Swann abhorred the idea of a dance. It necessitated finding a date, a female date, which Swann simply felt was dishonest. He would have asked Jill, except now she had an actual boyfriend, and then he decided it didn’t matter and he wouldn’t go with anyone. Kiana Miller said they should go together and it would be fun, and when Swann said he didn’t like people looking like couples who weren’t, she said, “Well, fuck it. Let’s not look like a couple. But let’s go.” And Kiana was one of the finest girls in their year, so that was that.

Chris went with some girl he was occasionally banging and for some reason Swann was sick of that. He wasn’t jealous of her or angry with Chris, just sort of tired of the relationship they currently had. Chuck actually went stag. His real girlfriend lived in town and was—no surprise here—older. She wouldn’t have taken kindly to him stepping out with a Saint Anne’s girl. How she would have felt about him sleeping with Swann, Swann could only guess.

On the night of the dance, some Greek girls from the Orthodox church in town came for Harry, James and Pete and Steve Cratchett, one of the fattest boys Swann had ever seen, who could swallow a whole cupcake in one bite and farted gaseous fumes, commented that Greeks were awfully greasy.

“Their faces are always shiny.”

Swann said nothing.

Brad, of course, went with Annette. She was pretty, and he looked proud and shiny eyed, smiling so hard his face was about to split in two. His pale blond hair, so gelled that Chris with his cloud of curls said, “There’s no chance in hell that’s gonna move.”

The dance was at Saint Anne’s gym, monitored by Father Reed and Sister Crucifixion. After a while, Swann and Kiana retreated to the company of Vinnie, Varlon, their dates and Chuck, and Vinnie pulled out a pack of cards and they began to play Spades.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“I wish I’d brought my cigarettes,” Swann said.

“You didn’t?” Vinnie looked surprised.

“Well, I did, but I can’t very well light up in a gymnasium.”

“Especially,” Chuck grinned, pointing up, “one with sprinklers.”

He was warm for Chuck. No matter what happened they would always be friends, and he would have always like him. He wondered if something could happen between them tonight, but frowned when Vinnie won the next hand and remembered to keep his mind on the game.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the staccato and unpleasant voice of Father Reed began above them, “there is to be no card playing.”

“Are we Baptists, suddenly?” Swann asked him, “Or are you racist?”

“Mr. Portis!”

“Because all I see is a bunch of Black kids enjoying themselves at a dance we don’t want to be at. So, if it’s all the same to you… It’s my turn,” Swann laid a card down.

The others, in various states of amusement or concern were not nearly so cool, and Father Reed said, “Mr. Portis—”

But just then, Sister Crucifixion came up to Reed and whispered in his ear, so that the priest’s eyes narrowed, and he shook his head then said, “We’re not done, Mr. Portis.”

He went off in the direction Sister Crucifixion had pointed.

“You’re right, Andrew Reed,” Swann said, rising.

“Where you going?” Kiana asked.

“To follow him. Something’s happening. Come on.”



The others stayed behind, which Swann thought best. Seven Black kids could not tail one priest and be unseen. They left the gym, Kiana throwing off her heels and running with them hooked in her fingers as they followed the priest into the bushes. In the distance the East Tower of Saint Francis half blocked the moon, and the bells tolled nine.

Kiana saw before Swann, and Swann saw before Father Reed. White buttocks, flashing in the night, pumping up and down, legs wrapped around a boy’s dress shirted waist, hands running up and down his ass, holding his back, whimpering. Heat prickled on Swann’s face. He hoped it wasn’t Chris. It must have been Chris. Who the hell else would it be? Father Reed advanced on them and yanked the boy up growling, “You animal!”

Father Reed shook the boy who was pulling up his pants. More people were coming out, and he was shocked to see the red faced, terrified boy was not Chris at all, but Brad Crist.



“And just when I was beginning to enjoy the dance, they cut it short,” Swann said.

Chris shook his head and muttered, “Poor Brad.”

In the next room, Harry was saying something stupid and Pete said, “Shut up. Not tonight. It’s not funny.”

Swann went into the room, followed by Chris, and Brad sat by the window hugging his knees and looking vacant. His eyes were hard jewels but Swann understood that look. It wasn’t rage but barely contained embarrassment.

Swann took a breath and sat down next to Brad.

“If you want you can stay on our side and we can stay here. If you want to be alone.”

“They’re gonna throw me out,” Brad said, his fist balling. “They are going to throw out Annette. Everyone’s going to know. She’s going to be embarrassed in front of all her friends. They’re going to tell our parents, and we’re going to end up at some other schools where we’ll never see each other again.”





“What?” Abbot Prynne demanded, “can be so important that you would wake me in the middle of the night?”

In truth, Prynne had been asleep for a half hour, and in his wingback chair in the East Tower office. He had not even taken off his habit.

Herulian, Reed, Roberts and Sister Crucifixion were all there and at this time of night, for Prynne, that was entirely too many white people

Crucifixion and Reed told the story, and when they were finished, Prynne opened up his the drawer under his desk and pulled out his cigarettes.

“And…. Why were you looking for them?” he said.

When neither the nun nor Andrew Reed answered, Prynne said, “Surely if a boy and a girl vanish from a dance you’ve some idea of what they’re doing.”

“And that’s exactly why we were—”

“Leave,” Prynne said to Sister Crucifixion.

Her eyes widened.

“Stand outside the door while I yell. We’ll be back with you in a minute.”

Sister Crucifixion drew in a deep breath, and marched out of the room. As she seized the door, Prynne said, “And please don’t even think of slamming it.”

Whatever she had thought of, she did not slam it, and Prynne took a drag form his cigarette and exhaled while he spoke.

“You have a plan?”

“They both have to be expelled.”

“For what?”

“For… What they did?”

“They did what half this school has probably done and not been caught.”

“But they have been caught—”

“Because you were looking for them.”

“At a school dance! And this is a Catholic institution, and that means—”

“Do not presume to tell your Abbot what the word Catholic means,” Prynne warned.

At the sound of his voice, Andrew Reed cleared his throat and changed his tactics.

“Prynne—”

“You go out there,” Prynne said, “and you tell that busybody nun to forget what she saw and quash every rumor about that poor girl, and you get Bradley and tell him this business is over. We run a boarding school with teenage boys and there are girls a stone’s throw away in another boarding school. We’d have to be watching them every day to ensure nothing happens, and that is not what I am here for. Or you either.”

“Then your solution is to turn a blind eye?” Andy said, “Again?”

“Again?”

“Easy,” Herulian interjected.

“Prynne, sometimes I wonder how much you care about being abbot. Really. Your lenience. Especially on Swann Portis—”

“What the hell does Swann have to do with this?”

“Just an example of the corners you are willing to cut and the blind eye—”

“You hypocritical son of a bitch!” Prynne snapped, and Herulian’s eyes flew open.

“If it weren’t for the blind eyes I turned, not a one of you bastards would be standing here in your habits. You would have all been thrown out long ago along with half of these monks. Be glad for my blind eye. All of you.”

There was a breath of silence, and then Prynne continued, “If you cannot hold your tongue and remember some sense then remember your vow. Obey me. Use your senses. Fear God, and then fear me, and then do what I say and then get the hell out of my office.”

“Tommy!”

“Get out,” Abbot Prynne commanded. “All of you.”

Herulian looked at him.

“You too.”

“Yes… Father Abbot.”

“Go find Brad and bring him to me. Now. And if that bitch, Crucifixion, doesn't do as I say, I’ll be talking to Mother Superior in the morning. End this shit tonight.”




It was around eleven o’clock when Brad returned from the East Tower. And he returned with Swann who had insisted on going with him.

Prynne only shook his head at the sight of Swann and said, “I should have known you’d show up before the night was over.”

Back in their dorm Swann said, “Well, it’s over.”

“And he even apologized.”

“Then why do you look…?”

“Because I’m embarrassed,” Brad turned to him. “I’m embarrassed and… I’m not like the other kids who are always bragging about sex. It’s… It’s special. Annette shouldn’t have been seen that way. He… Father Reed made it public. It wasn’t public before. I hate him. I want to kill him.”

“Abbot Prynne says unhappy people do unhappy things.”

“He’ll be real unhappy if I can ever get him at the end of my rifle,” Brad said, giving away country roots he usually buried far beneath the surface.

“Come on, Bradley,” Swann said. “Before you start shooting priests, let’s get some rest.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an intense portion! Poor Brad, being exposed like that is awful. I am glad Swann stood up for him. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

It was intense! And I'm glad you got pleasure out of it. Thank you for reading.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Chapter Seven





























“I’m worried about Brad,” Swann said. He kept confiding in Pete these days because, frankly, he wanted to spend more time with him.

Pete didn’t let him down, he pushed his glasses up his nose, stroked his chin and said, “I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask?”

“Of course we should ask!”

Brad, usually lively, even when he was being critical, looked dark and surly and wouldn’t answer questions, and when Swann discussed this with Jill, she said, “I noticed the same thing about Annette.”

A couple of days later Jill came to class all in a flurry and sat down right beside Swann.

“Oh, my God, it’s awful!” she said.

Swann left class with her, and in the halls she whispered, “Annette’s pregnant.”



They agreed.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” Jill said. “But we can both go tell Brad. That we know, I mean, He already knows. But… it must be hard. He must feel so alone.”

After class they both went through the school looking for Brad and Swann said, “Don’t you have a class to get to?”

“Yeah,” Jill said, breezily, and kept on walking.

They ran into Brad who was looking pre-occupied, his very blond hair sticking up, and Swann said, “Can we talk to you a minute?”

“I’m late for German, can we talk later?”

“I guess.”

“No we can’t,” Jill said. “We need to talk now.”

Brad’s face changed and he headed back into the suite.

“Brad, are you alright?” Jill began.

“What are you… Whaddo you mean?”

It was clear from the look on Brad’s face that he knew what Jill meant, and now Swann added, “Brad, whatever you need. We’re here for you, okay?”

Brad looked more perturbed than anything. He turned to them with a knot in his forehead and said, “Thanks.”

“We didn’t mean to make you mad,” Swann said.

Brad took a very long breath, and he said, “No…. No, you didn’t make me mad. You made me… I haven’t said anything to anybody, and I’m just worried if I really let go I’m going to lose it, so… uh…”

“Class?” Swann suggested.

Brad nodded.

“Yeah, I should get to class.”



















“It’s still frozen,” Sal said.

“I mean it’s frozen enough to look at it and say, ‘Gee, look how pretty it is frozen. Be a real mistake to walk on it.”

They had driven an hour or so and passed the last town with a Bob Evans that Sal suggested they stop at. The snow covered hills and trees, and in the middle of it all, a frosted black gash, was a long, wide lake.

“My dad’s family had a little house on here, sort of like a trailer. Well, I guess it is a trailer, and he used to bring me here. And then when I started driving I would come here to be alone.”

“I wish I’d known there was a place like this to be alone,” Swann said. “There were a lot of times I could have benefited from just being left alone.”

“Sometimes I was lonely and sad, but a lot of times I just needed not see anyone.”

“Wanna walk it?”

“It’s a big lake.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Sal grinned and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets,

“Yeah. Let’s walk it.”

“Did your dad stop bringing you out here when you learned to drive?”

“No, my dad stopped bringing me out here when he divorced my mom. He saw me a lot less after that. I don’t know why his opinion mattered so much. He was never really around.”

Looking around, Swann said, “Doug would love this.”

Sal nodded.

“He’d like it better if it was spring. So many plants. All the ways he could poison us and get us high.”

Swann said, “Spring’s not far off, you know? We may leave Doug at home, but we could come back then.”

“I thought you might be bored. You showed me Chicago and I show you a frozen lake.”

“The best part of Chicago is a frozen lake. People pay millions of dollars just to live next to it.”

“Good point,” Sal grinned.

“In the spring the trees are full of leaves and there are so many flowers and bushes, and the grasses grow high. You could get lost in a minute. The butterflies! There are these little white ones that look like tiny pieces of bread, and then the big orange ones that look like monarchs, but they aren’t. And the birds! Blue herons skimming the lake Once I even saw a crane. It’s a good place to be quiet.”

Swann’s mind went back to that sophomore year, to a moment he had forgotten, when they are going down the busy halls of the new school building, and saw Griffin Anthony, one of the boys on the swim team, talking to another boy with rolled cuffs and a mint green shirt, wavy dark hair, and Swann had never seen this boy before, but he was beautiful. There was something in the way he stood and his serious face but for the grin at the corner of his mouth, and when he walked off, even though Swann was absorbing the news that Brad was about to have a baby, even though he was not part of the conversation he’d just witnessed, or even acknowledged, he couldn’t stop thinking of him.

Later, while he was still thinking about him, Swann came to track to watch Chris and realized, in those shorts and that tank top, there was the boy with the wavy hair. Later on he asks Chris, casual, “Who is that?”

“Oh, him? That’s Sal Goode. He’s one of the good guys.”





“One of the good guys,” Sal nodded his head as they drove into Calverton.

“One of the good guys. What does that even mean? “Well,” Swann shrugged as they parked in front of the little shop in the strip mall, “I think you’re one of the good guys. Come on.”

“I cant believe we’re doing this,” Sal said, digging his hands into his jeans as he followed Swann.

“Given all the time we were in Chicago, I can’t believe we didn’t do it earlier.”

Sal decided not to be embarrassed because Swann didn’t seem embarrassed. The store actually looked sort of high end, and there were all sorts of… Costumes, Sal settled on that word. And underwear and…. Penises, no. Yes, dildos. Some in bright colors. There wasn’t really a safe place to look, and his face burned while Swann said to the man at the desk, “We’re here looking for a lube that doesn’t dry up. You know. I had this really good kind once, and—”

“Oh, you mean silicone.” The bald man said.

“Yes, that’s exactly it. Silicone. Not the water based.”

“Some people like the water based because it comes out of the sheets better, but I don’t care. Silicone every day of the week.”

“Right?”

“We have all the different brands right here. And have you used Durex before?”

“I don’t like it. It’s too like jelly and then it’s sticky and not really slick enough.”

“It’s not my favorite either. And you know what I don’t like—”

“The smell?”

“Exactly!” the store clerk said. “I’m like, bitch, I didn’t ask you to smell like flowers, I just asked you to work.”

“And you don’t.”

“You motherfucking don’t. Wait… have you tried this?”

“No.”

“See, it’s cheap, but it lasts for hours and you get ten ounces. I recommend it.”

“Well, if you recommend it, then...”

They got the bottle of lubricant and the clerk bumped into Sal.

“I’m so sorry, sugar. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Sal said stoutly, almost shouting.

“Oh?”

 

[ChrisGibson]

“I am his boyfriend,” Sal said again. “We are boys, and he is my friend. And when I say friend I mean lover. That lube is for us. For him and me.”

Swann raised an eyebrow, and the amused store clerk said, “Well, go on ahead, Girl.”

“He’s actually a lot smarter than he’s appearing,” Swann confided.

“He appearing just fine right now,” the clerk said, looking Sal up and down.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he whispered to Swann, “I’d hit that no matter how dumb he was.”

“Hey, I heard that, and I’m not dumb.”

“He actually isn’t, but he is fine,” Swann added. “He’s a track runner, soccer player. All around athlete. And when he takes his shirt off—”

“I think I’ve been ten different types of embarrassed since I came in this store,” Sal said.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Baby,” the clerk said. “Be yourself.”

“We should look at the underwear,” Swann suggested.

“I have underwear,” Sal said.

“You’d look very good in a thong,” the clerk said.

“A what?”

“Or a jock strap?” Swann suggested to the clerk who nodded and said, “If he was my man I’d have him all day every day in a jock.”

“I have a jockstrap,” Sal said. “I have several. In fact you have seen me in a jockstrap.”

“Was it nice?” the clerk asked Swann.

“It was. But they were tatty. We’re going to get you some more.”

“I’m so confused.”

“But we’re not getting them today. But we do want poppers. I’m going to say two bottles.”

“Are those the things… that your snort?” Sal said.

“You like them. They make you crazy horny.”

“We sell them,” the clerk gestured to the bottles, “but we’re supposed to call them cassette cleaners or some bullshit like that.”

“Oooh, I like that one. One of that and another of… That one.”

“That will fuck up your head, Be careful with it.”

“Sal, give me your credit card.”

“What?”

“Just joking,” Swann took out his. “But next time I won’t be.”

The clerk rang up the purchases, and at the end, Swann did throw in a red jockstrap.

With Joe, sex had been spit and Vaseline, secrecy, back pages, and rushed visits to truck stops with the occasional third party. Swann’s world of chattily stopping into sex shops to compare the price of silicone lubricants, talking openly about sniffing inhalants and wearing jockstraps was new, and as uneasy as he felt in it, something Sal almost wanted to do again as soon as they’d left the store. As they left, the clerk, with the name plate J’son said, “Yawl are real cute. You better stay together.”





A week had passed since Swann learned about Brad, and things had been tense in the dorm and in their group. Some people knew, some people didn’t, but it was assumed that in a very few months things would change indefinitely, and everyone would know.

“This is so bad,” Brad said, but only to Chris and only to Swann.

“We were just in trouble, and now this.”

“In all fairness, Annette was probably already pregnant when you got in trouble,” Swann pointed out.

“Swann!”

“I’m just pointing out the truth, Christopher. It’s not like you did this on purpose, Brad. No one under twenty five does this on purpose.”

“So, like, when’s the baby coming?” James asked.

Brad did not answer, and it was a few nights later, when Annette and Jill were at Saint Anne’s that Brad said, “It isn’t coming.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

Those were excellent portions. Poor Brad he is going through a lot. I hope he is ok eventually. Swann and Sal’s talk with that shop clerk was very entertaining. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Those were excellent portions. Poor Brad he is going through a lot. I hope he is ok eventually. Swann and Sal’s talk with that shop clerk was very entertaining. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

Thank you for reading and enjoying. I haven't posted in a moment, but plan to tonight. Brad's life has really been a wreck in this last part

 

[ChrisGibson]

AND SO WE END CHAPTER SEVEN....


Brad was miserable and terrified, teary eyed. And Annette hadn’t gone to class for the last few days.

“How do you feel about that?” Chris whispered in the darkness of their room.

“About Brad and Annette?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like it’s really sad and none of my business.”

“Oh, bullshit, you don’t feel like that.” Chris said, turning over.

“I do.”

“That it’s not your business? I mean, It’s not my business either, but you’ve got an opinion.”

“I have decided to not have an opinion. I get too sad if I have an opinion.”

“I couldn’t do it,” Chris said. “If I was going to have a baby, I’d have to keep it. I mean, it’s a baby How can you just…”

“You’ve got a lot more money than Brad and Annette, and much nicer parents. And anyway, she’s not even ten weeks from what Jill says.”

“So, you think it’s alright?”

“I think I just turned sixteen and I would lose my shit if I was told I was about to be a dad. And I’m not, cause I’ve never been with a girl, but it’s not because I’m some virgin. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be faced with that. They’d have to leave school and… It’s just not my decision, and they’re going to do it anyway, so let’s not act like they’re…. evil or whatever.”

“I just… I just don’t see how you could.”

“Chris? How many girls have you slept with?”

“I dunno. A few.”

Swann made a throat clearing noise of great disbelief, and he said, “How do you know one of those girls didn’t do exactly what Annette’s going to do? And it is her choice. Brad okays it, but it’s decision. And how do you know if you get some girl knocked up, and that’s not impossible, she won’t make the same choice?”

“I won’t let her.”

Swann turned his back and fluffed his pillow.

“Now you just sound stupid.

“Swann!”

“Good night.”





The five of them, Swann, Jill, Annette and Brad and Pete Agalathagos, sat on the rooftop, and the beauty of early spring did not touch them. Pete and Swann were sharing a Black and Mild, sitting side by side, and Brad said, “They’ve got protesters outside of that place every day, and… it is…”

“It is turns out it’s expensive,” Annette said, trying to sound breezy.

“And really,” she continued, I don’t want anyone else to know. I don’t want my parents to know.”

“And your parent have to know,” Brad said, his eyes dull.

“It’s bad enough our friends know. You can see it, Chris and James, judging us.”

“It’s not their business,” Pete said, inhaling, and passing the cigarillo back to Swann.

“But the more people who know, the more they make it their business, and I just want this to stop.”

“What I want,” Annette said calmly, “is to get this taken care of before it becomes a real problem. I mean, more of a problem than it already is.”

Jill looked more careful and caring than Swann had ever seen her.

“We’ll help you do whatever you want, but Annette, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course I’m not sure! I mean, of course I don’t want to. I don’t want to,” Annette said.

“Neither one of us wants to,” Brad said. “Fuck, I’m a Young Republican. I don’t… I always thought that if this happened...”

He shook his head.

“I actually never thought this would happen. But, it’s no way to bring a kid into the world. It’s… If we don’t do this our lives are pretty much over, and if our lives are over, this kid would be…”

“Basically white trash,” Annette said.

Then she said, “But while we’re talking about all this, I still don’t even know how it’s going to be done.”



When Swann and Jill arrived at East Tower, Jill considerably impressed by the monastery proper, they came up the three flights to Prynne’s office. The Abbot was behind a new computer monitor on his desk, frowning as he typed, and he looked up in surprise.

“Oh! Just… a minute…”

Swann nodded and they waited while Prynne, licking his lower lip, said, “And…. Hit… save and… oh, that dreadful noise!” as the computer saved to the floppy disk.

“Technology!” the priest said pushing himself from the desk on a new chair with rolly wheels.

“To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

“Father Abbot,” Swann said, addressing him formally, with a small bow, and Jill did the same, “I’m afraid it’s not anything pleasant at all.”

Jill shook her head and Prynne said, “Then why don’t you all get yourselves some water from the cooler, close that door and sit down and tell me what it is.”



When they had finished telling him, Eutropius Prynne said in a voice he rarely used, “Oh… that’s very sad. That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard.”

He shook his head, then sat in his chair, steepling his fingers.

“Swann, Jillian, can you two come back to me the day after tomorrow, say around ten, when I take my break. I’ll have some news for you by then, alright?”

They nodded and murmured, “Thank you, Father Abbot,” placing their chairs back and leaving Prynne to his own thoughts.

Going down the stairs to the cloister, Jill said, “What’s he going to do? What can he do?”

“I don’t know,” Swann said, “but he’s my godfather, and I just know Prynne can make anything better.”



Two mornings later, Prynne taught with great energy, and at the end of the class he called Swann to him

“Can you get Bradley and Jillian? And can Jill get Annette?”

“By when?”

“By ten would be preferable. By lunch would be suitable.”

Swann nodded and Prynne clapped him on the back.





Pete Agalathagos found his way to the office at around noon as well, and the Abbot only nodded to him and said, “Mr. Agalathagos.”

Swann cleared his throat and sat at his desk

“Annette, Bradley, I just want to say, first, that if you want to have to this child I will do everything I can to make sure—”

“I don’t, Father,” Annette’s voice was thin and high.

“I know I’m evil for it, but I don’t. I don’t want to have a baby.”

The Abbot looked at Brad and Brad looked miserable.

“I don’t either,” he said. I want to want to, but… Neither of us wants this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Father,” Annette’s voice trembled, “I hope you didn’t call us in here to tell us about how sacred life was and how I should have this baby because I’m sort of desperate, and I’m not doing it. I mean, even if I have to throw myself down some steps, or take a bath in hot water or…”

At each suggestion, Brad looked increasingly alarmed, and the Abbot put out a pacifying hand.

“Annette,” he said. “I talked… to people who know. I talked to one of the sisters at the convent, in fact.”

He opened his top drawer, pulled out an unsealed envelope and handed it to her.

She opened it and took out a pill, like an aspirin.

The Abbot said, “You are not the first girl to find yourself in this place, and you unfortunately will not be the last. Women have… all sorts of reasons to induce their periods. I am sorry for the boys here, but I speak frankly. I grew up in a frank household. In order to do that you must put four pills under your tongue until they dissolve, then wait three hours and repeat it again. Do it till all twelve are gone. You should do it this evening. The process will be… uncomfortable.”

Annette and Brad stood staring at the envelope almost in horror, and then Annette bursts into tears and went across the desk to bury her face in the Abbot’s chest.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Prynne said, “You should have friends with you. I… can send a note to the convent and tell them you are ill and we are keeping you. The old infirmary is empty, and it’s near the boys’ room and near mine.”

“I’m staying with you,” Brad said. His voice thick.

“Of course,” Prynne said. “All of you should. If you can.”

The students left Prynne’s office feeling sober, and Brad was the last out. He turned around suddenly and stood before Prynne.

“Father…” he opened his mouth to say more.

He touched Brad on the shoulder, and nodded.

“It’s time for class, Mr. Crist.”



That night, the abbot came in and out of the infirmary like an attendant nurse, and grim faced, he lead Prynne and Jill in cleaning up. Brad helped a bit, but mostly he trembled, and Annette told him, while she cramped, that maybe he could just go to bed. There were stretches of the night where nothing at all happened, and then times when Annette cried out from the pain. Brad slept fitfully on a cot outside of the great sick room, and the abbot did not go to pray the midnight office or Lauds as morning approached.

At around eight in the morning, Chris came up with breakfast and said, quietly, “I thought you guys might be hungry,” and then left. By around eleven o’clock, Swann returned to the suite with Brad who lay on his bed while Swann went to his.

“Should we go to class?” Swann asked an hour later.

“I feel like I want to,” Brad said. “Like I can’t bear to be here. But I can’t go to class either.”

Neither could Swann, and he loved his afternoon classes. In a way, things seems just as grim and sad right now as they had in the last few days. The quality of the sadness was different, but Swann was too exhausted to say how.

Around dinner time Pete came up, He was in khakis and a polo shirt and wearing an expensive watch.

He said, “You all have to come to dinner. You can do whatever else you want, but we’re eating.”

Pete grabbed Swann’s hand and pulled him up, and his hand was warm and strong, and Swann remembered that the meal was beef stroganoff and it was delicious and he went back for a second and third helping. He remembered that night was different from the last, lighter, more melancholy, and he and Pete talked a lot and Chris was very quiet. Tomorrow was Friday, and after that, the week before vacation. They shut off the lights and went to sleep.



In the middle of the night it took a while to realize he heard sobbing. Crying wasn’t something you often heard in a boys’ dorm or really at all, so it was a surprise to Swann. He got out of bed, and went out of his room to the next one where Pete and James, Harry and Brad slept and, by the window, Brad was curled up on his bed, crying. Pete was sitting up, a sheet wrapped around him, watching, but unsure.

Swann gestured to Pete and took the lower end of his bed. Pete was confused a moment, and then helped him move the bed toward Brad’s, and Swann simply climbed on it and lay next to Brad who, at Swann’s presence began to sob louder.

Chris came into the room, and without speaking, he lay his long body at the foot of the two beds, feet hanging off, while Pete climbed back in beside Swann, and they stayed with Brad for the rest of that sorry night.

 

[CharmedFan28]

Poor Brad and Annette. They were really in a no win situation. Very sad. Great writing as always.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Poor Brad and Annette. They were really in a no win situation. Very sad. Great writing as always.

Bless, you friend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Chapter Eight







“For once in my life,

I have someone who needs me
Someone I've needed so long
For once, unafraid, I can go where life

leads me
Somehow I know I'll be strong

For once I can touch what my heart used

to dream of
Long before I knew
Ooh, someone warm like you
Would make my dreams come true
Yeah, yeah, yeah…”



They sang, the radio turned up in the long, square, blue corvette Benji’s parents had bought him. Tommy Prynne had been driving for a while, but he was a bad at it, and when Jason has screamed and Benji had lurched to the side of the long seats and almost been thrown from the convertible, he took control of his vehicle again and was now driving it across the high bridge of the Chicago Skyway that took them out of Indiana and into the wonder of the South Side, But before they could get there, the cars slowed to the long gate of toll booths spanning the Skyway, and Tommy reached in his pocket for coins.

Andy had been invited, but he had a track mete down in Indianapolis where he’d probably win, and anyway while Andy wasn’t exactly friends with the other members of the team, he enjoyed traveling with them and, Tommy suspected, enjoyed that, though never very popular anywhere else, in the track and field he was a star.

The car sped on, and for the first time Tommy Prynne looked down on the land of his childhood rather than passing through it. The old lime brick and red brick lines of two and three flats, the shops and many churches with their high steeples. Toward the lake he saw the high rises, the newly run down and blank spots, and the highly green ones bordering the water. The Sixties had done a number on the area. There had always been Black people in the neighborhoods of the South Side, but as some came into old white areas, white people left, even, no especially, Jews left, and where there were no white people, no one seemed to care, and so those parts of the city were becoming like something time forgot. But then even Black people were leaving, heading to the suburbs or to the north or to the new projects or even to Indiana if they could, and some of the old lively jazz clubs were closing down. The grand theatres were having their last hurrah. As Tommy directed them off the the Skyway, a part of him was sad thinking of how all the good life was traveling up north.

“We’re going downtown, right?” Benji had said.

“And of course downtown was downtown. It wasn’t the north or the south or the west, it was the center…. Only it was north, and Tommy thought how they had never needed Downtown before. Stony Island had always been more than enough.



“Darlings, I hope you all brought something nice to wear,and if you didn’t we’ll have to find you something,” Sefra Portis said.

She had stopped by Prynne’s butchers for tongue and ribs, and gossip.

“We’re going to the Trocadero tomorrow night.”

“Is it on the South Side?” Tommy asked.

“Nothing’s on the South Side anymore, baby,” Sefra said.

“We’ll be on Rush Street where all the life is.”

Sefra was in a skin tight black dress and full make up, with pearls, and her nails shellacked red. She never left the house unless fully dressed, and if she showed up this way to get meat from the butcher, what in the world would she look like at a club?

Despite Sefra’s impeccable appearance, there was something rundown about the area, like an old pair of pants that increasingly faded with every watch. Dinner that night, like most Fridays, was at the Portis apartment. Godma had eaten early and gone to Bingo with her friends. Goddaddy was no more. Florence hadn’t heard Sefra’s offer, or rather promise of the fun on Rush Street, and looked completely surprised, her spoonful of gumbo half to her mouth.

“They are children.”

“I’m eighteen!” Jason threw his hand up as if answering a question for class.

Florence ignored them, taking an offended bite of gumbo, and Donald, who shoved his fedora down on his head harder rather than taking it off for dinner.

“I’ll watch them,” he said. “Make sure nothing happens.”

“Since when do you go out?” Deborah asked her uncle.

Deborah was sixteen and Donald twenty three, the youngest of the Portis children. Beside Godma, he stopped in the middle of eating, took out his spook and hit his niece on the nead with it. While she rubbed the back of her head through her shiny black hair, Sefra’s daughter, Rose, a buxom eighteen, said, “If you did this,” pointing to her Afro, you wouldn’t feel it.”

“You wouldn’t feel anything,” Sefra added, touching the Afro with her cigarette free hand.

“I know you don’t like it,” Rose said.

“And I don’t know how you do either,” Sefra said, “but let’s not have that discussion again.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there not,” Clarence Prynne began, “a closer club that Rush Street? Are there no places on the South Side.”

“If you wanna get shot,’ Pamela said. “South Side ain’t what South Side was.”

“Stony Island isn’t what Stony Island was,” Sefra drank from her pint glass that was filled with fizzy red pop.

“Yeah,” Jason volunteered himself to the conversation, “that’s why my folks are moving.”

“See!” Grandaddy said. “Another bunch of Jews leaving!”

Tommy put his face in his hands and Jason turned red while Benji looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll tell you when this started,” Grandaddy Prynne said. “When niggas started coming into South Shore, all of these realtors told white folks, this shit isn’t going to be valuable, sell it and go somewhere, told the Jews, sell it and go to Skokie, go to Rogers Park, and you’d think by now Jews would know about being herded and penned into places, but they’re all selling and walking away.”

While Tommy’s grandfather had spoken, Donald Portis’s face had grown serious instead of awkward or laughing, and he said, “Well, how much are they selling their place for?”

“I don’t know, but…”

“Find out,” Donald said.

Sefra looked at him.

“We can’t stay here. We’ve been saying that a while now. Instead of complaining about white folks running away, why don’t we see what they’re running away from and if we can afford it.”





“Yawl ain’t coming?” Tommy said to Rose.

“Am I spending the night with my mama in a tight dress?” Rose asked. “No.”

“We are going to the beach,” Deborah said, “with Phyllis and her brothers.”

“Feel free to change your mind and come with us,” Rose added.

But even if Tommy did want to change his mind, he knew Jason and Ben would not. They wanted to be men of the world, to see the clubs on Rush Street. Whatever Rose thought of her mother, the boys were enthralled by Sefra Portis, and Don, in his fedoras and Cuban shirts equally excited them, and so they were ready to head out at eight, though Ben wondered if they were leaving too early.

“No,” Donald said, “because we actually have to get to the North Side.”

A short man in leather jacket with a gun showed up for Sefra, whose hair was elaborately piled. Rhinestones were in her ears, and her lips were bright red, a fur hung over her shoulders and Ben whispered, “She looks like Marilyn Monroe.”

“Well, except Black and not dead,” Tommy said.

“Boys, this is Boochie,” Sefra introduced them to the dangerous man who saluted them, and Ben thought he was the coolest person he’d ever met.

“Come on, Boochie,” Sefra winked, and hooked her arm through his.

Don drove Ben’s car and Boochie drove behind in his blue Cadillac. Ben and Jason had little sense of direction, but Tommy Prynne did, and he realized they’d turned off of Stony Island and were traveling east. After a while, Ben said, “Look at all the trees. This is nice,” and Jason said, “This is South Shore.”

This took them to Lake Shore Drive, and once there they sped north through the night. The tall, stylish apartments rose on their left, and the immense dark blue of Lake Michigan under the darker blue night lay to their right. Tommy, at last, gave way to the beauty. His loyalty was to the South Side. As far as he had been concerned until now, you never needed to go further north than Hyde Park. The Portises and the Prynnes had arrived on Stony Island together, the Portises following them from Kankakee when Godma and Goddaddy and Prynne’s grandparents were young. Before Kankakee they had lived in the Great Marsh and before that Louisiana. Moving further north was moving further from one’s roots.

In time they passed into downtown after passing the massive campuses of the Museum of Science and Industry and the Field. After passing Buckingham Fountain, shooting out jets, bronze horses rearing in the night, they arrived on Michigan Avenue with its tall hotels, and drove Wabash under the rain tracks, then to State Street which Ben crooned badly was, “That Great Street.” Now they crossed Wacker Drive and the river and were entering the place of their dreams.

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an excellent portion! Definitely a change of perspective character wise but I welcome this change. This was a great read and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

That was an excellent portion! Definitely a change of perspective character wise but I welcome this change. This was a great read and I look forward to more soon!

I'm glad it could be your after dentist appointment treat. I'll put up the weekend post before I go to bed.

 

[ChrisGibson]

WEEKEND PORTION IS HERE!


“That was Tony Curtis walking down the street!” Jason whispered with baited breath as they walked a broad lane where every concrete slab was lit by a marquee light.

“That man was walking a tiger,” Tommy said. “There is a man walking a tiger on Rush street.”

“That’s Count Dante!”

“Who!”

“The Greatest martial artists in the world,” Jason declared.

“Um,” was all Donald’s evaluation. “He looks like a vampire.”

Ahead of them Sefra strode, dragging her fur along the sidewalk, and Boochie said, “You have no idea how much that cost. If you don’t pick that damn coat up...”

Lazily, Sefra shrugged and draped the white fur over her shoulders.

“When did she meet him?” Ben whispered.

Don laughed.

“What?”

“Boochie has always been her man. Since she was seventeen probably. But he went and married some other woman, so they’ve never been married.”

Jason and Ben looked amazed.

Tommy told them:

“Sefra is his mistress. And Boochie is Rose’s father.”










“Wake up,” Donald Portis said.

Tommy had been awake some time. He had, and would retain, a marvelous head for liquor and good times and would require very little sleep. He was sitting under his window, cigarette in one hand and breviary on his lap, and the noise of Stony Island could be heard, cars passing by playing snatches of the Temptations or the Supremes.

Jason and Benji, in boxers and wife beaters, sprawled across the bed, mouths, open, blinking into the light.

“I want to see that building you selling,” Donald, who was leaning against the door frame, burning cigarette in hand said.

“Coffee,” Benji moaned, his mouth dry from having been open. Jason knuckled his eyes.

“Well, at least let them wake up,” Tommy said.

“That’s what I’m doing, Tommy. Wake the fuck up and have some coffee, and then let’s us go.”



Jason had unconsciously begun to dress like Donald, and in his blue striped bowling shirt and white fedora, he sank low in the backseat as they drove north to East 70th Street, and then turned west on it and entered a tree lined area with blocks of brick apartment buildings. The air was different here, and the mood calmer, and the drive down the many rows of calm but similar looking streets was longer than Tommy Prynne expected.

“When you cross Paxton,” Jason said, “you’re nearly there.”

“Why are you sunk in that seat?” Donald asked him.

Jason had realized fairly quickly that if he told his parents he was spending the weekend at the Prynnes, then they would expect him to go to temple on Saturday morning with him, and even now he dreaded being spotted by them.

“But shouldn’t they be at temple right now?” Ben said.

“Yes, but still…”

“What’s your temple like?” Jason asked Ben.

“Uh… my Dad doesn’t like to call it a temple. He calls it a shul, and he just complains about it all the time. I went a few times, but usually I go to church with my mom—when I go home. I dunno, I think I like church better.”

“That would explain why you’ve been hanging out with Father Brust and doing all that campus ministry,” Tommy said.

“I hang out with Father Brust because he’s cool, and I do campus ministry because—”

“Guys! That’s it. That’s my home.”

“Oh! That one? The three story?”

Donald got out of the car. You could smell the lake, they were so close, and the air that was a little warm on the treeless concrete of Stony Island was chilly here. There were rows of old brick apartment buildings, and then three triple flats and the last one, which Jason had indicated, right before another large building began, was the one Donald walked up to. It was of red brick, and past a brick wall and the small yard, a stone path went up to a substantial porch with a heavy door. Beside it was a large bay window and on each succeeding floor was a similar bay window. It was quiet and stately in a quiet stately place where the only interruption was the occasional laughter of children. Donald nodded with satisfaction, and then turned to leave and noticed that on the two pillars bordering the walkway, one had a name written on it in simple script.

THE BIRCHES​

 

[ChrisGibson]

“Well, how the fuck do you like that,” Donald nodded, respectfully. “A house with a goddamn name.”










Shout for joy to God, all the earth!
Sing the glory of his name;
make his praise glorious.
Say to God, “How awesome are your deeds!
So great is your power
that your enemies cringe before you.
All the earth bows down to you;
they sing praise to you,
they sing the praises of your name.”

Come and see what God has done,
his awesome deeds for mankind!


Tommy Prynne, aged eighteen, came deeper into the chapel of Our Lady of the Holy Angels. Of late, he liked to hear the monks singing the offices, though he missed the Latin. For the last few days he’d found Benji in here, looking quiet and perturbed, and apparently not even seeing him.



“He turned the sea into dry land,
they passed through the waters on foot—
come, let us rejoice in him.”


But, then, Ben had been strange anyway, quiet and perturbed, very often going to confession more, having chats with Father Budic who was a sweet and gentle man students loved to talk to. Tommy, ever prickly, had never gravitated toward him.



“He rules forever by his power,
his eyes watch the nations—
let not the rebellious rise up against him.



Praise our God, all peoples,
let the sound of his praise be heard;
he has preserved our lives
and kept our feet from slipping.”


Tommy had not even noticed that he was singing to the evening office. He knew the breviary. He knew the Latin one better. His grandmother had taught it to him. So strange to fit your mouth around the English, and master singing in a tongue which you spoke every day. Not much had changed in the church itself, the new windows on either side of he rose window let in much more light and stopped the place from looking like a dungeon, and the altar, which turned out to be much less bare than just a coffee table, was marble and grand in its own way.

Benji had turned to Tommy, biting his lip like that time he asked him to buy condoms. Graduation was soon. Was that why he was so nervous? When the office ended, the monks in the long white hooded robes they wore to pray filed out through the doors on either side of the retrochoir, and as the bells tolled, Tommy thought it must be time for dinner.

But now Benji got up and crossed the church before Swann could, wading through the long pews and sitting down beside his friend. It was hot that early summer, and the huge fans were loud in the holy space. Swann was out of his blazer, but Benji, orange hair in his face, was not.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Yeah?”

It took so long for Ben to talk that Tommy though he’d have to say something, but his friend said, “This… this life.”

“School life?”

“No… No…. Religious life. The monks’ life.”

“What about it?”

“I think I want to do it. Don’t tell anyone, and don’t laugh. But I think I want to be a monk.”





“Well that is strange,” Andy Reed said when they were in the lounge.

“So, when he said don’t tell anyone…” Jason Keller began.

“I assumed anyone who would make fun of it,” Tommy said.

“But now that I think of it… don’t let him know I told you.”

“It’s so strange,” Andy said. “You’re the one who knows all the Latin and goes to Mass. I just assumed it would be you.”

“Who becomes a monk?”

Andy shrugged.

“You are… sort of… monkish.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Jason and Andy just looked at each other.

“Anyway,” Andy said, “I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?” Tommy felt temporarily stupid.

“Join the order.”

“Really?” Tommy said, but Jason wasn’t impressed or even surprised.

“You grew up here,” he said. “Your uncle’s the abbot.”

“That’s the very reason I am surprised,” Tommy said. “I’d think you’d want to get as far from here as possible.”

Ben came trotting into the lounge and asked, “So who’s going to dinner?” And when he looked at his friends, he looked at Tommy and said, “You told them!”



The next morning there was a call for Andy Reed. In these last days before graduation, they all had a lot of free time on their hands and there was a lot of wearing jeans and tee shirts, something that hadn’t really been going on a year before. Andy was in khakis and an Oxford, though, and he unfolded his increasing grasshopper like body from the chair where he was reading and went down the hall to answer.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked Tommy.

“Following.”

“Eavesdropping.”

“Exactly. Who the hell calls Andy?”



In the hall, Andy was trying to figure out that very thing.

“Hey… baby. It’s been a long time.”

“Who is this?”

“Andy. Little Chicken, don’t you recognize me?”

Confusion, and then a wave of so many things passed through Andy as his darkening face twisted.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Baby.”

“You… Whaddo you want?”

“I wanted to let you know I was coming for graduation.”

“You’ve been gone… Since I was five. You disappeared thirteen years ago.”

“And there’s a lot to talk about. And there’s a lot for me to explain.”

“Don’t explain anything.”

“Baby—”

“And you can’t do that. You can’t just call here and call me Baby and say, ‘Hey, sorry I’ve been gone for thirteen years.”

Incongruously, Sharon said, “Andrew, you sound so different. You sound like a man. I know you’re angry, but when I see you things are going to be—”

“I don’t want to see you,” Andy said.

“Look, I’m coming. I’ll be in ’63 red Buick, and I’ll drive you around, and we’ll talk and…”

Andy hung up the phone.

“What the fuck?” he shouted. Ben and Jason and Tommy were standing at the end of the hall looking at him, but everyone heard.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, but Swann shrugged and said, “I’m guessing his mom called.”





“Yes,” Father Merrill said, “I heard from her too.”

“Did she call you first?” Andy demanded.

“She did. I had no idea she’d be calling you. I thought I was going to get to talk to you about her idea first, but she’s pretty headstrong.”

“She can’t just disappear and then pop back up.”

“True, true. You’re right,” Abbot Merrill said.

“And yet she seems to be doing just that. She told me all about it. A ‘57 red Cadillac—Buick, and she’ll be driving for three days and I don’t think I can stop her.”

Andy Reed took a deep breath and said, “Well, I don’t think I’m going to have anything to say to her.”

Father Merrill nodded.

“That is completely your right.”

Andy nodded fiercely and walked out, but Tommy Prynne remained.

“Can I help you, Thomas?”

“You weren’t going to tell him, were you?”

“Thomas, I don’t think I can discuss that with you.”

Tommy nodded, “That’s fine, Father Abbot.”

“Mr. Prynne?”

“Yes?”

“Our of curiosity… What would you have done?”

“I would have told him.”

The Abbot opened his mouth.

“Not from honesty, only because your niece seems impulsive. She seems like a woman people need to be warned about.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion and a fascinating trip to the past. Thanks for posting and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

That was a great portion and a fascinating trip to the past. Thanks for posting and I look forward to more soon!

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Hope you're have a good day

 

[ChrisGibson]

Chapter Nine






The morning of the mutual graduation from Saint Anne’s and Saint Francis for the class of 1968, the green field before the monastery was filled with long, square cars, and two or three of those contained the combined Prynne and Portis families. Donald Portis drove his sisters Pamela and Sefra along with their daughters, Deborah and Rose, who were scheduled to graduate next week, and in the next car rode Godma Portis along with the elders of the Prynne family, driven by Tommy’s Dad while his uncle drove his mother, his sister and various cousins.

“That Interstate—” began Donald.

“I don’t trust it,” Prynne’s grandfather began.

“Granddaddy, you don’t trust anything made after 1930.”

“It’s the best thing in the world,” Don stage whispered, cocking his fedora.

“It turns a two hour trip into one hour. Which means it doubles your life. Where’s a place that I can piss?”

“I’ll take you to a place you can piss directly,” Prynne said, and led Donald away.

“Well, look at you gentlemen,” Sefra Portis purred to Jason and Benji, reapplying her lipstick. She smelled like Chanel #5 and the waft of a cigarette.

“Grown up at last.”

“Oh, we’re not that grown up, Miss Portis,” Ben said, grinning foolishly under the spell of Sefra. Jason, who was under the same spell noticed it too.

“And who might this be?”

“This is our friend, Andy.”

“Hello, serious gentleman.”

Andy held out his hand, stiffly.

“Hello, Ma’am.”

Prynne’s parents, who were blessedly uninterested in Andy and were talking to Father Merrill were more comforting. Sefra, though she looked nothing like Sharon, reminded Andy of his mother.

“Where’s your mom?” Ben asked Andy.

“Not here, of course.”

“She said she was—” Jason started, and stopped talking.

The ceremony went much like any other graduation ceremony It was too hot and the principal talked far too long. All sorts of awards went out to people that the Portises and the Prynnes didn’t know. Somewhere along the line, when the boys were being called to get their diplomas, Prynne and Andy saw someone whisper in Merrill’s ear, and then the Abboy walked from his seat near the front and didn’t return.

When the ceremony was over, Abbot Merrill found Andy, who was standing with Ben and Tommy’s family and said, “Son, I need to talk to you.”

“Is it about my mom?”

“Yes.”

“I think you should talk to all of us, then,” Andy said.

The Abbot frowned and thought and then he said, “You may be right.

“There was a car crash, a 63 Buick down the road, which was Sharon’s car, and, I’m sorry, but the driver has been reported as dead.”



Andy Reed was still for just a moment before he determined to go to the hospital.

“Andrew, she’s gone,” Merrill said. “Going to the hospital won’t do any good.”

But Andy wasn’t hearing it, and he shouted, “I need a car. I need somebody to drive me to the hospital.”

Finally Sefra stepped forward and said, “Boochie, get the car so we can take him to his mother,” and Tommy slipped into the car with Abbot Merrill.”

They drove into town and parked at old Good Samaritan. At the front desk they asked about the Buick and the woman in the car, and Andy bawled that he had to see her.

“I’m sorry, son—”

“Would people please stop calling me Son.”

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, “but she’s gone,”

“Well, then we need to identify her,” Tommy Prynne said, “and decide what should be done with the body.”

“Are you relatives?” the nurse asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sefra said. “Of course we aren’t. But this boy is. It’s his mother.”

The woman looked taken aback by Sefra, but simply said, “I’ll make a phone call and find out when you can see her.”

Andy was pacing about and Abbot Merrill said to his nephew, “Why don’t you sit down.”

Andy was on the verge of saying something sharp when, instead, he obeyed. Tommy’s rosary was in his pocket, and he slipped his hand in and began praying Ave Marias to calm himself. After all, if Andy could not be calm, then someone needed to be. He was sorry he had left Benji and Jason behind, and not looking forward to seeing a dead body, when all of a sudden someone came into the hospital lobby yelling:

“Where the fuck is she? Where the is she? Where the hell!”

They all looked up to see a well dressed but flustered woman with a coat under her arm, striding to the desk in heels, and her face was furious as she stopped at the desk.

“That bitch,” she began to the receptionist, “took my car and said she’d be back by two o clock, and it’s almost five—”

Prynne did not know why Andy’s face had changed, and he did not know why Abbot Merrill’s had as well. They both looked at one another while the woman continued.

“Can’t you see, I’ve fucked up? I’ve fucked up again! I was supposed to be at my son’s school for his graduation, and Betty took my car and now—”

She stopped, and for a moment the frazzled blond woman, the thin chicken faced eighteen year old boy, and the middle aged abbot looked at each other.

“Sharon?” Abbot Merrill said.

She looked to her uncle, then to the young man who was taller than her.

“Chicken?”

“I thought you were dead. We thought you were dead.”

Andy shook his head and sat down, still shaking his head, unable to blink.

“Oh, no, chicken. I couldn’t do that to you,” said Sharon. “Not on your graduation day.”



“I know you’re angry,” Sharon was saying that night in the guesthouse, “and I don’t expect things to be better anytime soon. I did a very bad thing, but I’m here now.”

Andy shook his head, “Mom… I’m… glad you’re alive. I’m sorry that other woman’s dead. But… I don’t know what to do with us.”

“I… ah… that’s fair,” Sharon said, “but here is… take this.”

She handed him a small box and said, “That’s your graduation present.”

Andy was surprised.

“Open it.”

He obeyed and she explained, “It’s a stop watch. Cause I heard you were doing all that running now. And, so I thought…”

“Thanks, Mom,” Andy said, awkwardly, pulling a watch he thought Sharon couldn’t possibly afford out of its box.

“And on that note,” Tommy Prynne said. “We’re all going to get up and go.”

Prynne left and Sefra, Boochie and even the Abbot left with him.

“Are you all heading back to Chicago tonight?” Abbot Merrill asked.

“Well, I know I have to be back,” Boochie said.

That was because of his wife, Prynne thought, and he said, “Well why should the rest of us have to?”

“I don’t like traveling on that highway in the dark,” Sefra said. “Especially after hearing about that woman dying.”

“Whoever wants to stay, stay. There are plenty of rooms, and you can head out in the morning.”

While Sefra and Boochie went off to decide things for themselves, Abbot Merrill said, “Thomas, promise you won’t be a stranger.”

“I’m just going down the road to Saint Damian’s.”

“Then definitely do not be a stranger.”

“Is it true Benji’s joining the order?”

“You know I’m not at liberty to—”

At Prynne’s look, Abbot Merrill said, “I told Benjamin to go to college, get his degree and come back. We’re really looking at just taking college educated men. It’s not official, but its encouraged.”

“What about Andy?”

“You’re very inquisitive tonight.”

“I’m inquisitive all the time, but right now I’ve got you in front of me.”

“Same thing, but I wish he’d go somewhere, see something. You on the other hand…”

“Me?”

Abbot Merrill threw up his hands.

“I am not recruiting. I am just saying you might have it in you to be an excellent educated—educated—monk. You’re a natural leader and you should think of that.”

“I don’t know how obedient I am.”

Father Merrill laughed out loud.

“I think that may go with being a leader. Oh, well,” Merrill shrugged. “If you come, you’ll just have to be the abbot.”