Absent Friends (41 page)

But the girls aren't here, so Jimmy thinks, what can he do for Jack, what can he say? But like when you're at a call and you can't see or smell anything, everything's dark and quiet and you're not sure what you're supposed to do and then with no warning the fire from the walls explodes in a deadly roar, like that, Jack explodes.

So don't hand me that heard-it-around shit!
he howls at Markie.
Tell me who it was!

Even in just the light from the moon and the faraway streetlight, Jack's face is red and burning, Jimmy can see it.

It was Spano, wasn't it? Jack yells. You're fucking working for that wop asshole, and he wants to cut me down! Eddie, right? He doesn't give a rat's ass about Tom or Dad, but what
I
got Eddie wants! That's right, right, Markie? You're lying for that fucking wop?

No, says Markie, Jack, that's stupid.

Stupid? Who's fucking stupid? You're fucking stupid, Markie! You and that fucking wop Eddie!

Jack, says Tom, what are you talking about? Why would it be Eddie?

Who the fuck else? Who's gonna do shit like this to me? Shit! This didn't happen, I'm outta here, Eddie could have it all, good fucking riddance! But he couldn't wait! And what the fuck, Markie, you had to help him? Why'd you do this to me, Markie?
Why?

Jimmy says, Jack. Jack, listen.

Oh fuck! Oh fuck, Superman! SHUT THE FUCK UP!
screams Jack, and there's a gun in his hand.

Tom says, right away: Jack. Put it down.

This is Tom, the old Tom, he knows everything about you, he's only telling you to do what you want to do anyway, and everyone always does it.

Jack, Tom says again, but Jack doesn't even look at him. Jack, this is fucked up, man, put that thing down.

Jimmy hears something in Tom's voice he never heard before. Jimmy flashes back: a warehouse fire last month, four alarms. A roof collapse takes a guy from a ladder company with it. His brothers on radios, searching frantically; the guy at first responding, but sounding so exhausted; then apologizing; I'm sorry, guys. I can't. Going silent. Jimmy's there when they bring the body up.

Jack, don't, says Tom again, in that guy's voice.

Tom, Jack says, hard and so cold, Little brother, I should've stopped listening to you years ago.

Jack takes a swaying step toward Markie, looks at him.
Say it,
he screams at Markie.
Say it was Eddie!
You're sucking that wop motherfucker's dick, and I want to hear you say it!

Markie opens his mouth, maybe he's going to say it, maybe he'd say whatever Jack wants him to, but nothing comes out.

Jack, says Tom.

Jimmy, too, he says, Jack, and he starts to stand.

Fucker!
screams Jack, and the gun screams, too, the loudest bang Jimmy's ever heard, the brightest flash he's ever seen. Splinters fly out of the wood above Markie's head. Jimmy dives for Markie, pushes him down flat. Tom grabs Jack's arm, but Jack flings him off. They both stumble. Jack's the one who's stinking drunk, but it's Tom who can't stay on his feet. He thuds onto the plywood, a sawdust cloud flying up around him.

Jack points the gun again. Jimmy's covering Markie, so Jack shoots at Jimmy. The bullet slams into the wood an inch from Jimmy's face. The third shot, Jimmy hears it and thinks he's dead, dead for sure, but he doesn't feel anything. He twists around, looks up at Jack. Jack is standing over him, and Jimmy waits for him to shoot again, but Jack just says, Fuck. He says, Oh, you fucker.

Then he falls.

Jimmy turns, looks for Tom. Tom's on his belly, covered in sawdust, right arm straight out, and there's a gun in his hand.

It's like some freezing wind came and blasted them all, changed them to ice or to frozen stones and it's been centuries now, forever, and still no one can move.

That's how it feels, but Jimmy knows it can't be true. The echoes of Tom's shot are still fading as he scrambles across the plywood to where Jack's sprawled. He checks for a pulse in Jack's neck, they taught him that in paramedic class, but he doesn't have to do it. He already knows. The dark spot on the front of Jack's shirt is small, but the blood under him is spreading so fast, the sawdust can't soak it up.

Jack, says Tom, whispering. Jack.

Tom, still flat on his belly, stares at his hand, his own hand with his own gun in it, his eyes wild like he's seeing a monster he never knew was there on the end of his arm. Very gently, he puts the gun down on a bed of sawdust, like now that it's quiet he doesn't want to make it mad again. He lurches to his knees and crawls over to where Jack is, leans close to Jack. I'm sorry, he says. Oh, Jesus, Jack, I'm sorry, man, come on.

Jimmy takes hold of Tom's arm, pulls him back. Don't, Jimmy says. Tom, man, there's nothing you can do.

Tom looks at Jimmy like Jimmy's speaking Chinese.

I have to, Tom whispers. I'm supposed to do something.

You can't.

When he gets like that. I'm supposed to do something. Get him to stop. I'm supposed to. Jack? Hey, Jack, hey, man—

Tom, says Jimmy. Tom, he's gone.

Tom looks at Jimmy like he still doesn't understand a word. Markie gets up, moving like he's asleep. He crouches down with them, all three of them next to Jack. Jack's gun is lying in the sawdust, too, like Tom's, two coiled serpents, resting now like they just fought a battle.

Something happens Jimmy's never seen before: Tom starts to cry.

After a while, it's not very long, Tom pulls away from Jimmy, from where Jimmy's been holding him tight. Jesus, Tom says. Shit.

He would've killed us, says Jimmy. Me and Markie. You, too, maybe. Jimmy's shirt is damp on his shoulder, from Tom's crying, and he can't stop shivering.

Tom looks down at Jack, like maybe something's going to happen, like maybe he's wrong about what happened already. Softly he says again, Jesus.

Nobody else says anything.

Then Tom says, Mom.

This'll kill my mom, says Tom.

Jimmy sees her, Mrs. Molloy, he sees her eyes watching Jack, and he knows this is what she's been afraid of, been waiting for all his life. Something like this, Jack getting in the kind of trouble no one gets out of.

I'm supposed to look out for him, says Tom. My job, make sure something like this doesn't happen to him. He laughs, a quick growling bark. Shit, he whispers, oh shit. This will kill her. Jack . . . Tom doesn't finish that. He can't say the word.

He whispers, And me going down for it! Jesus.

You saved our lives, says Markie. He was shooting at us. You won't go down.

Don't you know who I am? says Tom, raw and wild. The cops'll fucking love it, one Molloy wasting the other! Oh, you bet your ass I'm going down for the rest of my fucking life.

Jimmy knows that's right. The cops won't let this go.

And like the cops were wolves, like they smelled blood in the night air, Jimmy hears sirens, far away, coming closer.

Shit, oh shit, says Tom.

Come on, says Markie. He grabs the bag, starts shoving the beer cans back in it.

Wait, says Tom.

What the fuck for? Markie scoops up Tom's gun like it's just another beer can, drops it in the bag. He says, They find you here, you're fucked. Jimmy, they find
you
here, maybe you don't go to jail, but they'll kick your ass off the Job, you know they will.

This hits Jimmy hard. Markie might be right.

Or they'll tell you, says Markie, they'll say to stay on the Job, you gotta rat Tom out.

When Markie says this, Jimmy feels like he's buried under tons of concrete, like he can't breathe.

The sirens howl louder.

Tom rubs his hand over his head, and Jimmy can see now he's thinking, he's working this out. No, Tom says. They find Jack like this, they'll think it's the Spanos. Dad'll send guys over there. They'll send guys back. A fucking war. Oh, Christ.

Tom? says Markie. You can think what to do later. You guys have to get the fuck out of here now.

Us guys? says Jimmy.

Yeah, says Markie. You gotta go.

The sirens wail louder.

Markie pushes them, both of them, to the edge of the plywood floor. Jimmy thinks,
Markie.
Markie's figuring what to do. Everybody's listening to Markie. But Markie never thinks past now, this minute. Markie never thinks ahead.

Wait, Jimmy says. Stop. He looks at Tom, at Markie; at Jack, sprawled on the unfinished floor. He wants to take it all in, until he knows what to do. He doesn't know what to do.

Markie says, Jimmy, the Job. You want to stay on the Job? You think that's gonna happen, they find you here?

There's a sweep of lights in the trees.

Jim, says Tom. Jimmy, man?

They look at each other, Tom and Jimmy. Jimmy's looking for that light Tom gets in his eyes, the thing that says he had a smart idea, he knows the answer. Looking for it, but doesn't see it.

Markie jumps down, says, Come on, you guys, come on. Tom jumps, too. They both stand looking up at Jimmy.

Just before he jumps, just before he runs, Jimmy looks up through the roof beams, up at the sky, like maybe something there can help him know what to do.

The moon's gone.

B
OYS
'
O
WN
B
OOK

Chapter 16

Breathing Smoke

September 12, 1979

Markie, man, you're fucking crazy!

Jimmy's said these words a million times before, on the playground, in the classroom, in someone's backyard. He's saying them now, again, from the shotgun seat of Markie's car. The ragtop's down, Tom's in the back, the sun's hot even though it's early in the morning and it glitters on the water just beyond the dead end where they're parked.

Jimmy's thinking about last night. Tom and Markie are, too, Jimmy knows that, how can they think about anything else? Last night's like a huge tall building when you're standing right in front of it, it fills up the world and there's nothing else there.

Last night: Jimmy and Markie and Tom run through the woods as cop car headlights stab into the half-built houses on Coleman Road. They leave Jack on the plywood floor, to be found and photographed and taken away by men who don't like him, men whose job it is to find who killed him but who will give each other little cold smiles when they hear he's dead.

This is fucked, Jimmy says last night, when they circle around to Markie's car, the ragtop parked in the turn-off, the vinyl filled with tree shadows. I can't— He stops. He doesn't know what he can't do. Or what he can.

Yeah, says Tom. I know. Just till morning, man. Give me till morning, I have to think.

Jimmy knows what Tom's thinking about: his mom. Jack, it's too late, there's no thinking that'll help Jack now. Tom's doing what he always does, pushing right past the problem he can't solve, looking for the one he can do something about.

And Jimmy's thinking about the Job. About what Markie said would happen if anyone knew Jimmy was there when Jack got killed.

Jesus, man, Jimmy says.

But he doesn't say, No.

When Jimmy gets home, Marian's asleep. He takes a shower, pounding and cold, like sometimes at the firehouse after a run, most of the guys soaping off in hot steamy water but Jimmy thinking hot water's a lot like fire, how can it wash away what fire leaves behind? The shower he takes tonight is hard and icy, but it doesn't feel like it washes anything away.

He gets into bed very quietly. Marian turns, smiles in her sleep. He kisses her, puts his arm over her, pretends to fall asleep right away.

An hour later the phone rings.

Marian jumps, and Jimmy does, too, though as soon as he hears it, he knows he's been expecting it. Marian's eyes are worried, she watches him while he answers, because nothing good ever comes from a phone call in the middle of the night.

It's Tom. He's talking quietly, like he doesn't want anyone else to hear. The cops were here, he says.

Jimmy doesn't say anything, waits for Tom.

They came to tell me about Jack, Tom says. And Jimmy, man? Shit, Jimmy. Markie, says Tom. Markie confessed.

Jimmy is confused. He asks Tom, What are you talking about?

After he dropped you and me off, Tom says, he went back there. He told them Jack was shooting at him, and he shot at Jack just to scare him, he didn't mean to hit him, but he's a lousy shot. He said he got scared and ran but now he came back.

Wait, says Jimmy, wait.

What's Jimmy asking Tom to wait for? He doesn't know.

Tom says, They have him at the station, he's making a statement. That's what the cops said. They said he gave them the gun.

The gun? Jimmy feels stupid, he doesn't understand anything.

When he said he'd get rid of it, with the cans? He didn't. He gave it to them. He told them it's his.

Why?

Jesus, Jim. Why do you fucking think?

Shit, says Jimmy. He knows why. He wants to say, So he can be a fucking hero, so he can save your ass. And mine. This is Markie, climbing a tree without thinking how he's going to get down, like always, like always.

But Jimmy can't say this to Tom, because Marian's watching him, her eyes wide now because she knows for sure something bad's going on. Her hand is in his, like she wants to help him, like whatever the bad thing is, it'll be better if the two of them know about it together.

Jim? says Tom.

What?

Marian's there with you?

Yes, Jimmy says.

Say I called to tell you about . . . about Jack. Don't say anything else. I got to find out what's going on. I got to think, what to do.

Jimmy nods as though Tom could see him. He puts the phone down, turns to Marian, but he can't say anything, he just looks at her and then suddenly wraps his arms around her, holds her close.

She's warm, and he's so cold.

Now it's morning, the sun's pouring down on Jimmy and Markie and Tom in the car, but Jimmy's still cold.

They didn't arrest Markie last night, they let him go home because the way he told the story about shooting Jack, it was self-defense and there's nothing to say it wasn't. The cops all know Markie, the cops all know everyone in Pleasant Hills, they know Markie has a kid, they don't see him going anywhere. Markie's grinning.

See, he says, it's what I figured. I'm an upstanding citizen. They believed me. Everybody'll believe me. It was an accident, it was because he was shooting at me. This way you guys are cool, and even, no one thinks it was Eddie, so there's no war. Your guys, Tom, yours and Big Mike's, they don't go after Eddie's guys, and Eddie's guys don't come back over here. Nobody gets popped, man. Everybody's cool.

You're fucking crazy, Jimmy says again, and he knows this thing Markie's doing, it's wrong; but he's thinking about how they didn't arrest Markie, thinking maybe, just maybe, this is wrong but it could be a good answer.

Then Tom, who's been quiet since he got in the car, Tom says, The gun.

No, says Markie, grinning wider, like he thought of this, too. No, it's okay. I wiped it. I wrapped my hand on it like I shot it. Even if they find your prints on it, Tom, I'll say I showed it to you a couple days ago. Everything's cool.

The gun's not registered, says Tom.

So? Markie says.

Markie, man, even if they buy the whole rest of it, Tom says, they'll still send you up for the gun.

But, says Markie, and his grin wobbles. What do you mean? Just the gun?

Yeah, says Tom. He closes his eyes, leans on the backseat like he's too tired to say anything else.

But, says Markie again. But I'm clean. I'm an upstanding citizen.

Tom's eyes open. He jerks forward. Christ, where have you been? he shouts. It's their big thing.
Get the guns off the street!
You were just carrying it and they caught you, maybe you might get off, suspended sentence, whatever, you're so fucking upstanding. You shoot someone with an unlicensed gun, self-defense, it doesn't matter, you're fucked. They'll send you up for it, sure as shit.

Everything's silent, the trees aren't even rustling, the birds aren't singing.

Then Markie says, How long?

What?

For the gun. How long?

Markie, fuck, you're not serious, says Jimmy.

Tom starts to say something. Then he stops. He keeps staring at Markie, but his face changes. He seems to Jimmy like maybe he's seeing something different from what he thought he was.

Tom says, First offense, no priors? Good lawyer, sixteen months. Behave inside, you're out in five.

Okay, says Markie.

What the fuck? says Jimmy.

Five months, Markie says. He swallows, looks down quickly. Because listen. Because now I said I did it. If I say I didn't, they'll want to know why I said it in the first place. They'll want to know who I'm—what I know. What the hell can I say?

Jimmy wants to say, Dammit, Markie, you should've thought of that before. But what's the point? Markie never thought ahead in his life, why would he do it now?

Markie says, Tom goes down for this, he's fucked for good. I mean, years, he'll spend years inside.

Markie looks at Tom, and Tom nods.

That fucks Vicky, too, says Markie, and the kids, Mikey and the baby you got coming. And your mom, look what happens to her. And Jimmy? Jimmy, anyone finds out you were there, you're fucked, too.

Everything Markie just said is right. Still. Jimmy shakes his head, says to Markie, No.

Jimmy? says Markie. It's not your choice.

Markie looks at Tom, and Tom looks at Markie. Jimmy can see they're saying something between themselves, without any words.

Then Tom says, Maybe I can fix it. He nods. I can talk to some guys.

It sounds like Tom's trying to make them feel better by telling them that, but Jimmy thinks it's not him and Markie he's really talking to.

Just, says Tom, to make sure they don't charge Markie with anything except the gun. I can do that. My guys can. And, Markie, man, I swear, if it doesn't work like that, if they throw anything else at you, or the sentence is long, any shit like that, I swear to God I'll come clean, man. I swear it.

Wait, says Jimmy. But like last night, he doesn't know what he's asking Tom to wait for. You guys are nuts, says Jimmy. You can't. You're crazy.

I want to. Markie's voice is quiet. I want to save people, one time.
I
want to be Superman, just once. Jimmy, you do it all the time. You always did it. Just one time, I want to do it.

But Sally and Kevin, says Jimmy.

It'll be better, says Markie, it'll be better for me with them, if I always know, from now on if I always know I did this. I saved people, one time.

Jimmy's sticky with sweat. He doesn't know what to say. He keeps thinking of words to use, then seeing how they'll mess things up, trip him up, make it worse. The sun crawls higher in the sky. The other side of the backseat, the place next to Tom where Jack should be, the sun's glaring off the vinyl there because there's nothing to stop it.

And Jimmy's thinking,
Jack.

If Jack knew what Markie was doing, Jack would slap Markie on the back, say, Markie, man, I knew you had balls!

If Jack knew about this, thinks Jimmy, Jack would love it.