|
28 LEIGH MAKES A VISIT
I don't want to cause no fuss,
But can I buy your magic bus?
I don't care how much I pay,
I'm gonna drive that bus to my bay-by.
I want… it I want… it I want it…
(You can't have it…)
— The Who
She got through most of the story okay sitting in one of the two visitors' chairs
with her knees pressed firmly together and her ankles crossed, neatly dressed
in a multicolored wool sweater and a brown corduroy skirt. It was not until
the end that she began to cry, and she couldn't find a handkerchief. Dennis
Guilder handed her the box of tissues from the table beside the bed.
"Take it easy, Leigh," he said.
"I cuh-cuh-can't! He hasn't been to see me… and in school be just seems so
tired… and you s-said he hasn't been here—"
"He'll come if he needs me," Dennis said.
"You're full of muh-macho b-bull-sh-sh-shit!" she said, and then looked
comically stunned at what she had said. The tears had cut tracks in the light
makeup she was wearing. She and Dennis looked at each other for a moment,
and then they laughed. But it was brief laughter, and not really that good.
"Has Motormouth seen him?" Dennis asked.
"Who?"
"Motormouth. That's what Lenny Barongg calls Mr Vickers. The guidance
counselor."
"Oh! Yes. I think he has. He was called to the guidance office the day before
yesterday Monday. But he didn't say anything. And I didn't dare ask him
anything. He won't talk. He's gotten so strange."
Dennis nodded. Although he didn't think Leigh realized it—she was deep in
her own trouble and confusion—he felt a sense of impotence and a deepening
fear for Arnie. From the reports that had filtered into his room over the last
few days, Arnie sounded on the verge of a nervous breakdown; Leigh's
report was only the most recent and the most graphic. He had never wanted
to be
out
as badly as he did now. Of course, he could call Vickers and ask
him if there I was anything he could do. And he could call Arnie… except,
from what Leigh had said, Arnie was now always at school, at Darnell's, or
sleeping. His father had come home early from some sort of convention and
there had been another fight, Leigh had told him. Although Arnie had not
come right out and said so, Leigh told Dennis she believed that he had come
very close to simply leaving home.
Dennis didn't want to talk to Arnie at Darnell's.
"What can I do?" she asked him. "What would you do, in my place?"
"Wait," Dennis said. "I don't know what else you can do."
"But that's hardest," she answered in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.
Her hands were clenching and unclenching on the Kleenex, shredding it,
dotting her brown skirt with speckles of lint. "My folks want me to stop
seeing him—to drop him. They're afraid… that Repperton and those other
boys will do something else."
"You're, pretty sure it was Buddy and his friends, huh?"
"Yes. Everybody is. Mr Cunningham called the police even though Arnie told
him not to. He said he'd settle the score in his own way, and that scared them
both. It scares me, too, The police picked up Buddy Repperton, and one of
his friends, the one they call Moochie… do you know who I mean?"
"Yes."
"And the boy who works nights at the airport parking lot, they picked him up,
too. Galton, his name is—"
"Sandy."
"They thought he must have been in on it, that maybe he let them in."
"He runs with them, all right," Dennis said, "but he's not quite as degenerate
as the rest of them. I'll say this, Leigh—if Arnie didn't talk to someone sure
did."
"First Mrs Cunningham and then his father. I don't think either of them knew
the other one had talked to me. They're…"
"Upset," Dennis suggested.
She shook her head. "It's more than that," she said. "They both look like they
were just… just mugged, or something. I can't really feel sorry for
her
—all
she wants is her own way, I think—but I could cry for Mr Cunningham. He
just seems so… so…" She trailed off and began again. "When I got there
yesterday afternoon after school, Mrs Cunningham—she asked me to call her
Regina, but I just can't seem to do it—"
Dennis grinned
"Can you do it?" Leigh asked.
"Well, yeah—but I've had a lot more practice."
She smiled, the first good one of her visit. "Maybe that
would
make a
difference. Anyway, when I went over, she was there but Mr Cunningham
was still at school… the University, I mean."
"Yeah."
"She took the whole week off—what there is of it. She said couldn't go back,
even for the three days before Thanksgiving."
"How does she look?"
"She looks shattered," Leigh said, and reached for a fresh Kleenex. She
began shredding the edges. "She looks ten years older than when I first met
her a month ago."
"And him? Michael?"
"Older but tougher," Leigh said hesitantly." As if this had somehow…
somehow gotten him into gear.
Dennis was silent. He had known Michael Cunningham for thirteen years and
had never seen him in gear, so he wouldn't know. Regina had always been the
one in gear; Michael trailed along in her wake and made the drinks at the
parties (mostly faculty parties) the Cunninghams hosted. He played his
recorder, he looked melancholy… but by no stretch of the imagination could
Dennis say he had ever seen the man "in gear".
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: | 
