Cause of death—etc.
There was no way that would happen to him.
Swope put the letter on top of his notes and locked the drawer. Too keyed up to go to bed, he poured himself a glass of leftover rye from the party and fired up another Tiparillo. He closed his eyes and chased away the bad thoughts of his poor father, thinking instead about how good it would be when he finally got the job. No more calls to Chicago. No more need to solicit opinions from the likes of Ellen Felice and Richard Holmes. Three years of doing things his way. And then it would be ′76 and he’d be ready. A phoenix rising from the ashes of the GOP. A new commercial began to run through his mind, nullifying the vile image that had haunted him a few hours earlier. The same stage, though this time the band played loudly and the balloons shot up from the crowd like popcorn. Some loyal friend shouted unheard words into a microphone and then it was Swope himself appearing before the crowd. …
His reverie was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Teddy, back from another session with Susan Truax. Sally’d said something about them going out to see the new Bond film. He wondered if the kid had got lucky with the girl yet. He wouldn’t be surprised. She had easy lay written all over her. He envied his son. The thought of putting the wood to Truax’s daughter filled Swope’s mind for a moment, a warm, carnal haze as pleasing as another hit of that rye. Although there’d probably be more mileage out of the mother. She looked like she could kick until the cows came home.
But after a few seconds his reverie was broken by the first intimation that something was wrong. Teddy was still standing there. Usually, he vaulted straight up the stairs to his room. Or he’d plunge into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator, leaving puddles of juice and dustings of crumbs for Sally to tut over come morning. But he wasn’t doing any of this. He was simply waiting by the front door, panting fast, loud and shallow.
“Teddy?” Swope called softly.
His son’s breathing caught for a few seconds. And then sneakered feet made their way across the hall. They squished wetly. What the hell, Swope thought. It isn’t raining out. It hadn’t rained in days.
Teddy appeared in the doorway. The sight of him sent a chill down Swope’s spine. His flesh was bloodlessly pale, his hair flat and damp. His clothes were soaking wet. His chest rose and fell like a fire hose. But what really terrified Swope was the look in the boy’s eyes. Usually so bright and aloof, they were now frozen by deep terror.
“Dad,” he said, his voice very small and very weak. “You’ve got to help me.”
28
They still had over an hour before the rendezvous with Joel. Teddy decided to kill the time by driving aimlessly around the city, listening to tunes and regaling Susan with the latest scenes from his book. Newton seemed particularly dead tonight, the ever-burning gaslights shining on empty lawns and swept sidewalks. Televisions flickered behind living room windows like trapped lightning. What pathetic lives people lead, Teddy thought as he fired up a jay. Quiet desperation rules. Ticky-tacky houses, with everything tucked neatly in its place.
Instead of being grateful, Susan had hit the car with a seriously bad attitude, treating Teddy like he was some sort of chauffeur. Forgetting, it seemed, exactly who was running this show. She sighed audibly every few seconds, making it obvious to all and sundry that she was pissed off about not knowing where the meeting was taking place. She’d been after him to divulge the location ever since he told her about it last Friday. But there was no way Teddy was going to let that particular cat out of the bag until he had her strapped into the Firebird’s passenger seat, just in case she got any ideas about trying to wing this thing on her own. Finally, after fifteen minutes of endless lamentation, he put her out of her misery, telling her that they were meeting at the closed pier. Only to have her start to bitch about his choice.
“I hate it down there,” she said. “That place gives me the creeps.”
Teddy was tempted to tell her that he knew the place gave her the creeps. That was why he’d chosen it. But he didn’t want to start a big fight. Not tonight. In fact, after letting her stew for a few minutes, he offered her a conciliatory toke on his doobie. She waved it away.
“I don’t want to get stoned,” she said. “I’m happy as I am. Unlike some.”
He shrugged. Her loss. Tired of silence, Teddy started to regale her with the latest chapter of The Widening Gyre, in which the luckless Horniman winds up mistakenly posted to Vietnam, where he is press-ganged into a special forces unit whose job it is to rescue the ambassador’s beloved poodle, Humphrey, recently snatched from the embassy by an all-girl squad of VC. …
“Don’t talk about that,” Susan said sharply, before he’d even got to the part where Horniman uses his massive rod to subdue the guerrilla chicks.
“What?”
“The war. It’s not funny.”
Teddy looked across at Susan. She really seemed to mean it, blue eyes boring right into him.
“And why not, pray tell?”
“You know.”
Teddy got it. Of course. The sarge. He hadn’t thought. Although she had no business forbidding him from exercising his right to free speech, he could see how this might be a sensitive area. Ever the peacemaker, he decided to honor her request.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You know,” she continued, as if he hadn’t just graciously relented. “Not everything is part of your stupid story.”
Teddy stared at her in amazement. He couldn’t believe she’d just called The Widening Gyre stupid. This girl who probably couldn’t even lip-read her way through Nancy Drew. And now she was calling his work stupid, after he’d just agreed to change the subject in deference to her sad-sack father.
“Be cool, Susan,” he said. “Or it’s back home to Mommy.”
She shot him a murderous glance, though proved wise enough to keep it zipped. They traveled in their respective silences for the next few minutes. Susan applied some lip gloss, scooping it with her pinkie from a little black tub and rubbing it into her lips. Teddy punched in Some Time in New York City. “Woman Is the Nigger of the World” came on. Susan turned down the volume after three bars. Without even asking. Getting some of that lip shit on his knob in the process.
“I hate that word,” she said.
“What, woman?” Teddy quipped.
“No, Teddy, you’re the one who hates that word.”
“Stifle yourself, Edith.”
He turned the volume back up. They drove for a while.
“What time is it?” she half shouted.
“Eight-forty.”
“Why did you have to make it so long before we get to see him?” she asked impatiently.
“I’m sorry—do you have a problem with the way I’m handling this?”
She simply stared at him.
“Maybe you’d like me to drop you off at Joel’s house? Or perhaps I can give him a lift to yours?”
The song ended.
“Don’t fuck with me, Susan. Or you’re going to spend the rest of the summer playing with those stuffed animals of yours.”
She looked sharply at him.
“How do you know about them?”
Teddy felt a quick spell of panic. Careful, he told himself.
“About what?” he asked innocently.
“The animals my dad gave me. You’ve never even been up in my room.”
Teddy stared at her for a moment, then smiled.
“Joel told me about them,” he said. “He tells me everything.”
Susan looked back out the window, her expression suddenly smug.
“Not everything,” she muttered.
Teddy finally pulled into Newton Plaza at five past nine. It was earlier than he’d planned, but Susan was really starting to get on his nerves. He parked in a corner of the lot hidden from the building, just in case one of those lame-ass security guards decided to get motivated. Though after their performance during last Monday’s mugging he doubted he had anything to worry about fro
m that quarter. They piled out of the car to absolute stillness. There was just one other person in sight, some dog walker heading toward Mystic Hills. The only sounds were traffic noise washing down from the pike and water lapping gently against the empty piers. The building’s glass cliff face was dark. Perfect, Teddy thought.
Susan started to head down toward the lake.
“Hold your horses,” Teddy said.
He reached into his cluttered backseat, rummaging through the books and clothes and wrappers on the floor for the flashlight, a six-battery monstrosity capable of casting a beam nearly as strong as a headlight. He shined it in Susan’s face.
“Let there be light,” he said.
She waved the light away, as she would a swarm of gnats.
“Don’t be a jerk, Teddy.”
He switched it off and led her under the Gravity Tree, giving the apple a little rub for luck as he passed. They moved across the vast concrete steps to the boardwalk. Teddy made her jump the fence first so she wouldn’t see how awkwardly he climbed. The Pavilion’s geodesic dome came into view as he balanced on top, lit up like the launchpad at Canaveral. The sound of a circular saw wafted across the water from somewhere beneath it, though the workers remained hidden by a row of lakefront trees. He lowered himself to the ground, knocking his glasses askew and half tearing the Union Jack patch off his jacket. Susan watched his struggles with a mocking smile.
“Come on,” he said
She screwed up her nose as they passed a big pile of stinking fish somebody had left on the boardwalk. They wove through the fifty-five-gallon drums blocking off the pier’s entrance and then walked the length of the redwood planks. Near the end, where the wood began its gradual lateral slope, Teddy had to help her along, even though it wasn’t that hard to negotiate the gentle pitch. She wouldn’t touch his extended hand, grabbing his jacket cuff instead. The saw’s wailing stopped just as they reached the end. Teddy shot a quick look at the Cross Keys Inn. The tables were empty, the candles dark. They must have closed the dining pier early tonight. This was getting better and better. There was no way anyone would see them down here. He turned on the flashlight and scribbled the beam around for a moment, letting it play off the water and the planks.
“You’re going to get us caught.”
Teddy placed the lens under his chin to monster up his face.
“Prepare to meet your doom,” he said in Karloff voice.
Susan ignored him as she sat on the edge of the pier. Teddy stared at the back of her head, thinking how easy it would be to shove her in the lake. That would be fairly fucking funny, seeing her soaked, especially the precious blond hair she’d blow-dried for Joel. She hated getting dunked. But if he pushed her he’d have Joel to answer to. So he simply sat next to her, carefully balancing the flashlight lens-down between them to create a subtle, undetectable glow.
“Quiet tonight,” Teddy said.
Susan remained silent. She really was on the fucking rag. He fired up a doobie, not even bothering to offer her any. A seed popped beneath the Cricket’s flame, shooting into the water like a dud missile. He looked back toward the Plaza. Joel would be here soon. Knowing that his novel was a no-go area, Teddy decided to pass the time by telling Susan about the article he’d been reading in Scientific American. It was about these things called black holes, which were actually dead stars. Incredibly interesting. Groundbreaking stuff. But he hadn’t even got to the part about how their intense gravity literally crushed light when he caught her yawning.
“Am I boring you, Susan?”
“No more than usual,” she answered.
That was it. Enough was enough.
“I’ll tell you what. How about I go call Joel and tell him that the whole thing’s off? I doubt he’s left the house yet.”
She stared at him for a long, angry moment. Hammering began to echo across the black water from the hidden Pavilion.
“You really are a fucker,” she said.
“And a joker. And a smoker. And a midnight toker.”
“Well, enjoy it while you can, Teddy.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
At first, it looked like she wasn’t going to tell him. But anger soon got the better of her.
“I’ll tell you what it means, Tedward—Joel and I are going to run away together.”
Teddy felt a wave of fear pass through him. That invisible hammer continued to pound.
“Bullshit.”
“We decided it weeks ago, when we were in D.C. In case Irma ever dropped the bomb. All we got left to do is iron out the details. Which is what we’re going to do tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll be gone.”
“No way.”
“You can think what you want. But you better find somebody else for your summer fun.”
Teddy stared down into the murky water for a moment. She was full of shit. There was no way they were going to bolt.
“Yeah, but where would you stay on this great adventure?”
“We got a place all worked out.”
Something about the way she said the words frightened him. She sounded too confident to be bullshitting him.
“Where? In D.C.?”
“I thought Joel tells you everything, Teddy.”
Her tone was mocking now.
“Come on, Susan.”
He could hear the urgency in his voice.
“Why should I tell you?” She smiled wickedly at him, her expression made crueler by the light leaking up from beneath her. “You want to tag along?”
“Shut up.”
“Why should I shut up? What are you going to do? Call Joel? All right. Go ahead. And I’ll stand right next to the phone and scream that you’re a liar.”
“Maybe I’ll tell Irma.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
The anger had taken him over now.
“Maybe I already have.”
She looked over at him sharply.
“What?”
He was the one who could smile smugly now. Figure that one out, bitch. She stared at him for a long moment. And then understanding flooded into her eyes. Teddy began to fear he’d pushed it too far. All of a sudden she seemed a lot older than him.
“You let it happen,” she said, her voice cold. “You let my parents catch us. So we’d get into trouble and you could play your fucking games.”
Teddy felt his mouth starting to cotton up. This had definitely gone too far. The hammering stopped at the Pavilion, leaving the lake in absolute silence.
“Don’t try to understand things that are beyond you,” he said without conviction.
“Oh, you think I can’t see through you, Teddy? You think that just because you have a big brain that stupid people like me don’t know you’re a fem?”
“What did you call me?”
“You think Joel doesn’t know?” she continued. “You think he wants to hang around with you anymore? It didn’t matter when you were kids. All boys are fems when they’re fourteen. But it’s getting real old, Teddy. Real old.”
“He never said that.”
“He’s been saying it a lot recently. And he’ll be saying it some more once I tell him what you did.”
Teddy stood. A circular saw began to howl at the Pavilion. It was a sound he’d always hated.
“You’re not telling him shit.”
“You just wait.”
He could see by her expression that she wasn’t bluffing. She really was going to do it. Tell Joel. Tell him that Teddy had betrayed him. And then Joel really would be gone. He’d never forgive Teddy for this.
They were going to ditch him.
“Susan—come on. Quit messing around.”
She stood, those silver bracelets jangling.
“Watch me, Tedward.”
She began to walk past him, her sandaled feet unsteady on the slanted planks. He grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away but his grip was too good. The saw’s sound plummeted into a low growl as it bit into wood.
“Susan, I’
m warning you—do not tell Joel about this.”
“Get off me.”
“You guys can’t ditch me. You can’t.”
She tried to struggle a moment longer. When it became clear he wasn’t going to let her go she grew perfectly still, her eyes narrowing hatefully.
The saw stopped. Finally. The lake was silent.
“Faggot,” she said.
He lost it. He shoved her. Hard. She staggered backward, kicking over the flashlight. The slope made her travel faster than he’d intended. He reached out to reel her back in but she was long gone. And then she was falling, her face passing right through the toppled ray of light. In that brief moment of illumination Teddy saw her expression change from hate to fear as she disappeared into a black hole of his making. There was a sound and then a splash. It wasn’t until after the splash had resolved itself that Teddy started thinking about that sound, the dull thud that seemed both silent and infinitely loud, like a whisper traveling across oceans. He stood perfectly still, waiting for Susan to start thrashing around, gurgling and sputtering and yelping in outrage. But there was nothing. Just silence. He moved to the edge of the pier, almost sliding down the slope into the water himself. The flashlight had managed to wedge itself against one of the jutting support beams. He picked it up and turned its beam onto the clay-colored water. The turbulence was smoothing out. He stared at the sharp edge of the boat platform and remembered that dull sound.
The New City Page 34
