بعد

AFTER PICNIC

On the Friday that kicks off the Labor Day weekend, a Jeep Wrangler – getting on in years but loved by its owner – pulls into the parking lot above the McGinnis Park Little League fields and stops next to a blue Mercedes that is also getting on in years. Jerome Robinson makes his way down the grassy slope toward a picnic table where food has already been set out. A paper bag swings from one of his hands.

‘Yo, Hollyberry!’

She turns. ‘How many times have I told you not to call me that? A hundred? A thousand?’ But she’s smiling as she says it, and when he hugs her, she hugs back. Jerome doesn’t press his luck; he gives one good squeeze, then asks what’s for lunch.

‘There’s chicken salad, tuna salad, and coleslaw. I also brought a roast beef sandwich. That’s for you, if you want it. I’m off red meat. It upsets my circadian rhythms.’

‘I’ll make sure you’re not tempted, then.’

They sit down. Holly pours Snapple into Dixie cups. They toast the end of summer and then munch away, gabbing about movies and TV shows, temporarily avoiding the reason they’re here – this is goodbye, at least for awhile.

‘Too bad Bill couldn’t come,’ Jerome says as Holly hands him a piece of chocolate cream pie. ‘Remember when we all got together here for a picnic after his hearing? To celebrate that judge deciding not to put him in jail?’

‘I remember perfectly well,’ Holly says. ‘You wanted to ride the bus.’

‘Because de bus be fo’ free!’ Tyrone Feelgood exclaims. ‘I takes all the fo’ free I kin git, Miss Holly!’

‘You’ve worn that out, Jerome.’

He sighs. ‘I sort of have, I guess.’

‘Bill got a call from Peter Saubers,’ Holly said. ‘That’s why he didn’t come. He said I was to give you his best, and that he’d see you before you went back to Cambridge. Wipe your nose. There’s a dab of chocolate on it.’

Jerome resists the urge to say Chocolate be mah favorite cullah! ‘Is Pete all right?’

‘Yes. He had some good news that he wanted to share with Bill in person. I can’t finish my pie. Do you want the rest? Unless you don’t want to eat after me. I’m okay with that, but I don’t have a cold, or anything.’

‘I’d even use your toothbrush,’ Jerome says, ‘but I’m full.’

‘Oough,’ Holly says. ‘I’d never use another person’s toothbrush.’ She collects their paper cups and plates and takes them to a nearby litter barrel.

‘What time are you leaving tomorrow?’ Jerome asks.

‘The sun rises at six fifty-five A.M. I expect to be on the road by seven thirty, at the latest.’

Holly is driving to Cincinnati to see her mother. By herself. Jerome can hardly believe it. He’s glad for her, but he’s also afraid for her. What if something goes wrong and she freaks out?

‘Stop worrying,’ she says, coming back and sitting down. ‘I’ll be fine. All turnpikes, no night driving, and the forecast is for clear weather. Also, I have my three favorite movie soundtracks on CD: Road to Perdition, The Shawshank Redemption, and Godfather II. Which is the best, in my opinion, although Thomas Newman is, on the whole, much better than Nino Rota. Thomas Newman’s music is mysterious.’

‘John Williams, Schindler’s List,’ Jerome says. ‘Nothing tops it.’

‘Jerome, I don’t want to say you’re full of shit, but … actually, you are.’

He laughs, delighted.

‘I have my cell phone and iPad, both fully charged. The Mercedes just had its full maintenance check. And really, it’s only four hundred miles.’

‘Cool. But call me if you need to. Me or Bill.’

‘Of course. When are you leaving for Cambridge?’

‘Next week.’

‘Done on the docks?’

‘All done, and glad of it. Physical labor may be good for the body, but I don’t feel that it ennobles the soul.’

Holly still has trouble meeting the eyes of even her close friends, but she makes an effort and meets Jerome’s. ‘Pete’s all right, Tina’s all right, and their mother is back on her feet. That’s all good, but is Bill all right? Tell me the truth.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Now it’s Jerome who finds it difficult to maintain eye contact.

‘He’s too thin, for one thing. He’s taken the exercise-and-salads regimen too far. But that’s not what I’m really worried about.’

‘What is?’ But Jerome knows, and isn’t surprised she knows, although Bill thinks he’s kept it from her. Holly has her ways.

She lowers her voice as if afraid of being overheard, although there’s no one within a hundred yards in any direction. ‘How often does he visit him?’

Jerome doesn’t have to ask who she’s talking about. ‘I don’t really know.’

‘More than once a month?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Once a week?’

‘Probably not that often.’ Although who can say?

‘Why? He’s …’ Holly’s lips are trembling. ‘Brady Hartsfield is next door to a vegetable!’

‘You can’t blame yourself for that, Holly. You absolutely can’t. You hit him because he was going to blow up a couple of thousand kids.’

He tries to touch her hand, but she snatches it away.

‘I don’t! I’d do it again! Again again again! But I hate to think of Bill obsessing about him. I know from obsession, and it’s not nice!’

She crosses her arms over her bosom, an old self-comforting gesture that she has largely given up.

‘I don’t think it’s obsession, exactly.’ Jerome speaks cautiously, feeling his way. ‘I don’t think it’s about the past.’

‘What else can it be? Because that monster has no future!’

Bill’s not so sure, Jerome thinks, but would never say. Holly is better, but she’s still fragile. And, as she herself said, she knows from obsession. Besides, he has no idea what Bill’s continuing interest in Brady means. All he has is a feeling. A hunch.

‘Let it rest,’ he says. This time when he puts his hand over hers she allows it to stay, and they talk of other things for awhile. Then he looks at his watch. ‘I have to go. I promised to pick up Barbara and Tina at the roller rink.’

‘Tina’s in love with you,’ Holly says matter-of-factly as they walk up the slope to their cars.

‘If she is, it’ll pass,’ he says. ‘I’m heading east, and pretty soon some cute boy will appear in her life. She’ll write his name on her book covers.’

‘I suppose,’ Holly says. ‘That’s usually how it works, isn’t it? I just don’t want you to make fun of her. She’d think you were being mean, and feel sad.’

‘I won’t,’ Jerome says.

They have reached the cars, and once more Holly forces herself to look him full in the face. ‘I’m not in love with you, not the way she is, but I love you quite a lot, just the same. So take care of yourself, Jerome. Some college boys do foolish things. Don’t be one of them.’

This time it’s she who embraces him.

‘Oh, hey, I almost forgot,’ Jerome says. ‘I brought you a little present. It’s a shirt, although I don’t think you’ll want to wear it when you visit your mom.’

He hands her his bag. She takes out the bright red tee and unfolds it. Printed on the front, in black, it shouts:

SHIT DON’T MEAN SHIT

Jimmy Gold

‘They sell them at the City College bookstore. I got it in an XL, in case you want to wear it as a nightshirt.’ He studies her face as she considers the words on the front of the tee. ‘Of course, you can also return it for something else, if you don’t like it.’

‘I like it very much,’ she says, and breaks into a smile. It’s the one Hodges loves, the one that makes her beautiful. ‘And I will wear it when I visit my mother. Just to piss her off.’

Jerome looks so surprised that she laughs.

‘Don’t you ever want to piss your mother off?’

‘From time to time. And Holly … I love you, too. You know that, right?’

‘I do,’ she says, holding the shirt to her chest. ‘And I’m glad. That shit means a lot.’