He reminded Billy of the mailman.
That was what it came down to, really. There was no resemblance at all, not in actions or attitude, but on some gut level, he had made the connection and it stuck. He was not simply worried about his friend, he was afraid of him.
Lane's familiar shave-and-a-haircut knock rattled the screen, and Billy called for him to come on in. Lane was dressed in old jeans and a black rock T shirt. He had combed his hair differently than usual, parting it in the middle, and it made him seem older, harder.
'Hey,' Billy said in greeting, nodding at his friend.
Lane sat down on the couch. He was grinning hugely, a sincere grin of happiness that for some reason struck Billy as wrong and unnatural, and he looked toward the back of the house. 'Your mom here?'
Billy shook his head.
'Too bad.'
Billy tried not to let his puzzlement show. When had Lane ever expressed disappointment that a parent was absent from either of their houses? On the verge of adolescence, eager to prove their adulthood, both of them ordinarily tried to avoid parents as much as possible.
The two of them stared silently at the TV for a few minutes. Finally, Billy swung his feet off the coffee table and stood up. 'So what do you want to do?' Lane shrugged noncommittally, a gesture that somehow rang false.
'Want to go down to the dig,aee what's happening?'
'Why don't we check out The Fort?' Lane said. 'There's something I want to show you.'
Billy agreed, though he was not at all sure that he was ready to see what his friend wanted to share with him. He walked outside and around the side of the house, where his dad was sitting on the porch, reading. 'We're going,' he announced.
His father looked up from his book. 'Who's 'we?' And where are you going?'
Billy reddened a little, embarrassed by this verbal recognition of his not-yet independent status. 'Me and Lane,' he said. 'We're going out to The Fort.'
'Okay.'
'See you later, Mr.Albin ,' Lane said.
The two boys walked across the slatted and recently stained two-by-fours to the front of the house, stepping off the porch and moving past the garden.
They followed the path through the green belt, into the trees, and the house was lost from sight. Small branches and dried pine needles crackled beneath their feet. 'So what is it?' Billy asked. 'What do you want to show me?'
Lane smiled enigmatically. 'You'll see.'
They reached The Fort, hopping easily up on the roof and shimmying down through the trapdoor into the Big Room. Lane strolled casually into the HQ, sat down, picked up a _Playboy_, and began thumbing through it. Billy grew angry. He knew that his friend was drawing out the tension, making him wait, wanting him to beg to see whatever it was he wanted to show him, but he refused to give Lane the satisfaction. He remained in the Big Room, pretending to straighten one of the posters on the wall.
Lane tired of the charade first, and he put down the magazine, standing up. 'I got a letter back,' he said simply.
'From that woman?' Billy was surprised.
Lane smiled, a cunning, knowing smile that should have been conspiratorial but was not. 'Want to see it?'
Billy knew he should say no. The smug self-satisfied expression on his friend's face was so unlike Lane that it seemed almost frightening, particularly in the dim half-light of the clubhouse. That smile had awakened within him a growing feeling of dread, but he found himself nodding assent.
Grinning, Lane handed over the envelope.
Billy took out the letter, unfolding it slowly. Lane's eyes were on him, hungrily taking in every move, studying his face as if waiting for a reaction.
He pulled open the final fold and felt his stomach contract as if it had been hit with a softball.
His mother, completely naked, sitting in a chair with her legs in the air and her pubic area thrust outward, was grinning up at him from the Polaroid photo attached to the letter. He could clearly see, even through the blurred focus, the glistening folds of her wet vagina, the tiny puckered hole of her anus. The handwriting on the letter was not that of his mother, but his eyes focused anyway on an underlined phrase in the middle of the page:
I love dick.
It was hard to breathe. His lungs did not seem to be working properly. He tried to suck in air, but his mouth was so dry that the inhalation tasted dusty and harsh and almost made him throw up. The paper was shaking noisily in his trembling hand and he let it fall to the dirt. He looked up at Lane. His friend was grinning hugely, his face filled with a sickening expression of smugness.
And lust.
Billy said nothing, but lashed out. His fist struck Lane full on the face, and unprepared, the other boy fell backward onto the ground. Billy kicked him in the side. His eyes were stinging and it was difficult to see, and it took him a second to realize that he was crying.
Lane scrambled to his feet. He was obviously in pain, his face red, nose bloody, eyes watering, but he was grinning crazily. 'She said she wants it, and I wrote her back and said I'd give it to her. I'll fuck her all she wants.'
Billy struck out again, but this time Lane was prepared. He punched Billy hard in the stomach, and Billy went down, doubling over, clutching his midsection.
Lane scrambled up the rope, through the trapdoor. 'I'mgonna show this to everyone,' he said. 'Maybe otherpeople'll want to try your mom too.'
And Billy lay crying on the ground as he heard his ex-friend's footsteps run over the twigs and leaves toward home.
20
Doug crouched on the porch, looking through the telescope at the trees on the ridge. Tonight would be a full moon, and he had brought the telescope outside so he could see the craters. They had gotten the telescope for Billy last Christmas, and the boy's interest in astronomy had waxed and waned since then in cycles roughly corresponding to those of the moon. The last time he'd used the telescope the high-powered setting had seemed somewhat blurry, and he'd asked his dad to check it out, but Doug had not had a chance to do so until now.
He focused the eyepiece until he could see the individual needles of a pine tree atop the ridge. Billy was right. The magnified view was a little blurry, but it probably wasn't enough to hamper anyone's enjoyment. They would still be able to see craters fairly clearly.
He swung the telescope over until he was looking at the Ridge Road. It was after seven and the sun was setting fairly fast. The dirt road winding up to the top of the cliff appeared orange in the fading light. He was about to use the telescope to look at something else when he saw movement at the bottom of his field of vision.
A red car moving slowly up the road.
Doug's heart skipped a beat.
The mailman was driving up to the top of the ridge.
A wave of cold passed over him. Ridge Road ran parallel to the highway through town before swerving up to the top of the cliff and unceremoniously dead-ending in an empty field strewn with boulders. The road intersected Oak right next to the school and was used as a lovers' lane by many of the high schoolers, but no one lived on top of the ridge.
There was no place on its summit to deliver mail.
The car passed over the top and Doug looked up from the telescope, standing. Even with his naked eye, he could clearly see the road from here, a light slice curving through the darkness of the ridge. He could not make out the detail he could through the telescope, but he would have no problem seeing a car go up or down the road.
