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14 CHRISTINE AND DARNELL
He said he heard about a couple
living in the USA,
He said they traded in their baby
for a Chevrolet:
Let's talk about the future now,
We've put the past away…
— Elvis Costello
Between working on the construction project days and working on Christine
nights, Arnie hadn't been seeing much of his folks. Relations there had been
getting pretty strained and abrasive. The Cunningham house, which had
always been pleasant and low-key in the past, was now an armed camp. It is
a state of affairs a lot of people can remember from their teenage years,
guess; too many, maybe. The kid is egotistical enough to think he or she is the
first person in the world to discover some particular thing (usually it's a girl,
but it doesn't have to be), and the parents are too scared and stupid and
possessive to want to let go of the halter. Sins on both sides. Sometimes it
gets painful and outrageous—no war is as dirty and bitter as a civil war. And
it was particularly painful in Arnie's case because the split had come so late,
and his folks had gotten much too used to having their own way. It wouldn't
be unfair to say that they had blueprinted his life.
So when Michael and Regina proposed a four-day weekend at their
lakeshore cottage in upstate New York before school started again, Arnie
said yes even though he badly wanted those last four days to work on
Christine. More and more often at work he had told me how he was going to
"show them"; he was going to turn Christine into a real street-rod and "show
them all". He had already planned to restore the car to its original bright red
and ivory after the bodywork was done.
But he went off with them, determined to yassuh and tug his forelock for the
whole four days and have a good time with his folks—or a reasonable
facsimile. I got over the evening before they left and was relieved to find
they had both absolved me of blame in the affair of Arnie's car (which they
still hadn't even seen). They had apparently decided it was a private
obsession. That was fine by me.
Regina was busy packing. Arnie and Michael and I got their Oldtown canoe
on top of their Scout and tied it down. When it was done, Michael suggested
to his son—with the air of a powerful king conferring an almost unbelievable
favor on two of his favorite subjects—that Arnie go in and get a few beers.
Arnie, affecting both the expression and the tones of amazed gratitude, said
that would be super. As he left, he dropped a wink my way.
Michael leaned against the Scout and lit a cigarette. "Is he going to get tired
of this car business, Denny?"
"I don't know," I said.
"You want to do me a favor?"
"Sure, if I can," I said cautiously I was pretty sure he was going to ask me to
go to Arnie, act the Dutch uncle part, and try to "talk him out of it".
But instead he said, "If you get a chance, go down to Darnell's while we're
gone and see what sort of progress he's making. I'm interested."
"Why is that?" I asked, thinking immediately it was a pretty damn rude
question—but by then it was already out.
"Because I want him to succeed," he said simply, and glanced at me. "Oh,
Regina's still dead set against it. If he has a car, that means he's growing up.
And if he's growing up, that means… all sorts of things," he finished lamely.
"But I'm not so down on it. You couldn't characterize me as dead set against it
anyway, at least not anymore. Oh, he caught me by surprise at first… I had
visions of some dead dog sitting out in front of our house until Arnie went off
to college—that or him choking to death on the exhaust some night."
The thought of Veronica LeBay jumped into my head, all unbidden.
"But now…" He shrugged, glanced at the door between the garage and the
kitchen, dropped his cigarette, and scuffed it out. "He's obviously committed.
He's got his sense of self-respect on the line. I'd like to see him at least get it
running."
Maybe he saw something in my face; when he went on he sounded defensive.
"I haven't quite forgotten everything about being young," he said. "I know a
car is important to a kid Arnie's age. Regina can't see that quite so clearly.
She always got picked up. She was never faced with the problems of being
the picker-upper. I remember that a car is important… if a kid's ever going to
have any dates."
So that's where he thought it was at. He saw Christine as a means to an end
rather than as the end itself. I wondered what he'd think if I told him that I
didn't think Arnie had ever looked any further than getting the Fury running
and legal. I wondered if that would make him more or less uneasy.
The thump of the kitchen door closing.
"Would you go take a look?"
"I guess so," I said. "If you want."
"Thanks."
Arnie came back with the beers. "What's the thanks for?" he asked Michael.
His voice was light and humorous, but his eyes flicked between us carefully.
I noticed again that his complexion was really clearing, and his face seemed
to have strengthened. For the first time, the two thoughts
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