"Mike. That's all right. Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it. It's good to see you again."
He had to remind himself that twenty years had passed since they were last out on double dates together. Mike must have gained fifty or sixty pounds. He was virtually unrecognizable. Jeff introduced Mike to his relatives before they left. Then he and Mike stood talking under the awning in front of Butler's.
"You look great, buddy," Mike was saying.
"So do you."
"Yeah, like a house." Mike laughed, evidently not bothered by his weight. "What're you doing now?"
"Just going back to the house."
"How about a drink?"
"Okay, sure."
"You got a car? You still remember how to get to Ike's? I'll see you there in five minutes."
Ike's, one of Millville's many bars, had opened in 1956 and was named after President Eisenhower, who was re-elected in a landslide that year. Older townspeople still told each other that Ike's should have been called "Mamie's."
Jeff caught up with Mike at the back of the bar. After they found an empty booth, Jeff lit a cigarette. He noticed that Mike was still sweating.
"So what've you been doing all this time?" Mike asked as they clinked glasses.
"Oh, I've got my own little business, outside L.A., and I live nearby. Otherwise, not much."
"The land of movie stars and beach bunnies, eh? That's great. What is it-computers, did I hear?"
"Sort of," Jeff said. "We design special systems. We have one foot in theory and the other in application."
"Nice." Mike shook his hand loosely. "You always did have a brain for that kind of stuff. I bet there's a lot of money in it, right?"
"How about you?"
"I'm superintendent of the Street Department. How do you like that?" Mike grinned proudly.
"No shit? Superintendent?"
"Head honcho," Mike confirmed.
"You've got it made," Jeff said. "That's a job for life."
Mike didn't dispute this, contenting himself with a smile. "Hey, Millville isn't the liveliest place in the world," he said. "But it's home, you know. And somebody's got to stay here and look after it; otherwise it'll fall apart."
Jeff wasn't sure that was such a bad idea, but he didn't say so. They talked for more than an hour, shuttling back and forth between the good old days and the present. Jeff caught up on a great deal of gossip he really didn't care about and good-naturedly indulged several of Mike's fantasies about life in Southern California.
"Tell me," he said eventually, "what happened with you and Georgianne? You were a steady pair, but I lost touch after that last summer. The summer after graduation."
"Yeah. Georgianne. Right." Mike had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. He was on his third gin-andtonic, the glass all but lost in his meaty grip. "That was a great summer, wasn't it? Best damn time in a person's life, as far as I'm concerned. After that it's just ... shit and more shit....*
"So what happened?" Jeff sipped a tall glass of tap beer.
'Yeah, well. Let's see. Georgianne went to college in Boston, I went to UConn, and we stayed in touch. We talked on the phone, we saw each other when we were home for holidays and breaks. I think I went up to Boston to see her a couple of times. But ... well, you know me, Jeff. I wanted to screw everything in sight, and the big difference in college is there you can almost do it. So ... uh ... Georgianne and I kind of drifted apart. No big breakup, no heavy scenes, but ... you know how it is.*
"I thought sure you two would get married."
'Ha. I was a cowboy, man,' Mike said. "1 got married, all right, but not until I was twenty-eight. And even then I couldn't tell you how it happened. Everybody slips up sooner or later. You're married, aren't you?"
"Married, then divorced two years later," Jeff said. "Too much time working and not enough time home with my wife. She took up with her flying instructor, and for all I know they're still getting their rocks off at ten thousand feet."
"That's what I mean about California," Mike said obscurely. "Lemme buy a free man a drink.'
"So what happened to Georgianne after that?" Jeff asked when Mike had returned with a fresh round. "I drove up the New Haven Road on my way into town and I saw that the house is for sale."
"She got married ages ago. Some guy I never heard of. I don't think she lives around here, or I would have heard about it sooner or later, and I haven't heard anything about Georgianne in years."
"Her family still in the house? Or did they all pack up and move out?"
"I couldn't tell you," Mike said. "That's a state road, and I haven't been down it in a long time. Christ, I drove up and down it enough times in high school to last the rest of my life."
"That's true."
"Georgianne was a sweet kid, though. A real beauty."
"She was," Jeff agreed quietly.
"Funny thing is . . ." Mike rambled on. "I'll tell you, though I hate to admit it, but the fact is, for all the time I spent with her, all those hours wrestling in the backseat of my old man's car, then my car, at the drive-in or out on that dirt road in Gunntown, for all that, I never did get in her pants. Not even a finger." He shook his head, as if he still found it hard to believe.
I'm glad to hear that, Jeff thought, surprised both at the minor revelation and at the sudden intensity of feeling it occasioned.
Yes, I'm very glad to hear that.
"Georgianne was one of those gorgeous, unattainable blondes, you know," Mike continued.
"In high school," Jeff said, "none of us got laid nearly as often as we said we did at the time."
"Now that's the truth," Mike exclaimed, seizing the point gratefully. "But we sure did kiss like there was no tomorrow, and kissing Georgianne was some kind of experience in itself."
"I'm sure it was."
The conversation had become unpleasant and distasteful to Jeff, but at the same time it seemed strangely important to him. Something was taking shape.
Back at the house a little later, Jeff followed a hunch. Cognac was the only form of spirits George Lisker ever touched. It took a few minutes, but Jeff found the solitary bottle, on the shelf in the broom closet. He didn't need another drink, but he wanted one, and poured a double measure.
He sipped the liquor slowly, enjoying it. As he drank and smoked, the grin on his face would not go away.
So, he thought, Mike had never made it with the wonderful Georgianne. Never even got a finger in, as he had so charmingly put it. Jeff still couldn't say why this pleased him, but it did, undeniably. Enormously.
CHAPTER FOUR
The funeral service was short and dignified. Once again, more people attended than Jeff had expected. After the burial, everyone went back to Uncle Roy's place. By the time Jeff got home it was early afternoon. He stripped off his clothes and stood under a cold shower for twenty minutes. Then he sat on the edge of his bed, a large towel wrapped around his waist, and stared at the floor.
There were things to be done around the house, but he couldn't concentrate on them. His mind didn't seem to be functioning smoothly. Putting on a pair of light slacks, a sport shirt, and his loafers, he went out for a drive, acutely aware that he was surrounded by scenes of his past. The high school, the football field, the baseball diamond were all still there, more or less unchanged. But Ramona's Pizzeria had been absorbed into a plastic pizza chain and some of the bars had new names. The Alcazar movie theater was now a roller disco, and a rather forlorn-looking one at that. Next to it was an alcohol-free teenage night club. Jeff felt old.
He parked and went into a package store. A few minutes later he was driving again, a can of cold beer wedged up against his crotch and eleven others stashed under the seat. It was stupidly enjoyable, this cruising of the old ground, even if he was thirty-eight. He hadn't done this in about twenty years, but it still felt good. Sometimes it was the best thing you could do in a small town.