5432852385743

my sorrow. But he’s not dead where you’re going. Oswald, either.”
“Al . . . I know you’re sick, and I know you’re in pain. But can you come down to the diner with
me? I . . .” For the first and last time, I used his habitual form of address. “Buddy, I don’t want to
start this alone. I’m scared.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He hooked a hand under his armpit and stood up with a grimace that rolled
his lips back to the gumlines. “You get the briefcase. I’ll get dressed.”
8
It was quarter to eight when Al unlocked the door of the silver trailer that the Famous Fatburger
called home. The glimmering chrome fixtures behind the counter looked ghostly. The stools seemed
to whisper no one will sit on us again. The big old-fashioned sugar shakers seemed to whisper back no
one will pour from us again—the party’s over.
“Make way for L.L. Bean,” I said.
“That’s right,” Al said. “The fucking march of progress.”
He was out of breath, panting, but didn’t pause to rest. He led me behind the counter and to the
pantry door. I followed, switching the briefcase with my new life inside it from one hand to the other.
It was the old-fashioned kind, with buckles. If I’d carried it into my homeroom at LHS, most of the
kids would have laughed. A few others—those with an emerging sense of style—might have
applauded its retro funk.
Al opened the door on the smells of vegetables, spices, coffee. He once more reached past my
shoulder to turn on the light. I gazed at the gray linoleum floor the way a man might stare at a pool
that could well be filled with hungry sharks, and when Al tapped me on the shoulder, I jumped.
“Sorry,” he said, “but you ought to take this.” He was holding out a fifty-cent piece. Half a rock.
“The Yellow Card Man, remember him?”
“Sure I do.” Actually I’d forgotten all about him. My heart was beating hard enough to make my
eyeballs feel like they were pulsing in their sockets. My tongue tasted like an old piece of carpet, and
when he handed me the coin, I almost dropped it.
He gave me a final critical look. “The jeans are okay for now, but you ought to stop at Mason’s
Menswear on upper Main Street and get some slacks before you head north. Pendletons or khaki twill
is fine for everyday. Ban-Lon for dress.”
“Ban-Lon?”
“Just ask, they’ll know. You’ll also need to get some dress shirts. Eventually a suit. Also some ties
and a tie clip. Buy yourself a hat, too. Not a baseball cap, a nice summer straw.”
There were tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. This frightened me more thoroughly than
anything he’d said.
“Al? What’s wrong?”
“I’m just scared, same as you are. No need for an emotional parting scene, though. If you’re coming
back, you’ll be here in two minutes no matter how long you stay in ’58. Just time enough for me to
start the coffeemaker. If it works out, we’ll have a nice cup together, and you can tell me all about it.”
If. What a big word.
“You could say a prayer, too. There’d be time for that, wouldn’t there?”
“Sure. I’ll be praying that it goes nice and smooth. Don’t get so dazed by where you are that you
forget you’re dealing with a dangerous man. More dangerous than Oswald, maybe.”
“I’ll be careful.”