front porch of the Bainbridge house.
Weird Walt.
“Hey, Jack! Got a minute?”
Jack had a few. He swung the bike around and coasted into the driveway. Walt was rocking in the shade of the porch. He pointed a gloved hand at an empty rocker beside him.
“C’mon up and set a spel .”
“I gotta get to work.”
“Just a coupla minutes.”
Jack shrugged. “Okay.”
He laid his bike down on the dry lawn that badly needed watering. Walt lived here with his sister and her husband. He took care of the yard, but wasn’t
very good at it.
As Jack hopped up the steps to the porch, Walt patted the seat of the rocker again.
“Here. Sit.”
He noticed his gloves were leather. His hands had to be majorly hot and sweaty in those. As Jack seated himself, Walt leaned close and stared, his
gaze boring into him. It made Jack uncomfortable.
“What?”
“Just checking.”
“Checking what?”
“I thought you might be him, but you’re not.”
“What made you think—?”
“Don’t worry. I’l know him when I meet him.”
With that Walt scooted his rocker a foot farther away, as if afraid to stay too close.
Wel , he wasn’t cal ed Weird Walt for nothing.
Jack leaned back and started rocking. Not a bad way to spend a summer afternoon.
“What’s up, Mister Erskine?”
He laughed. “They cal ed my father ‘Mister Erskine.’ Cal me Walt. I wanna thang you for comin’ to my aid yesterday.”
Jack gave him a closer look. Barely lunchtime and already he had red eyes and slurred words. Jack felt a mixture of sorrow and distaste. And worry …
Steve Brussard could end up like this if he didn’t get a grip.
“I didn’t do anything,” Jack said. “Mrs. Clevenger did al the work.”
“Yeah, but you were there and you were on my side. Would’ve been just as easy for you and Weezy to join the crowd against me. But you two aren’t
herd members.”
“Yeah, wel …”
“Don’t minimize it, Jack. Look, I know what people think of me. I know I’m the town weirdo and the town drunk—I know I’m ‘Weird Walt.’ I’m a lot of
things, Jack, but I ain’t stupid.”
“I … I never thought you were.” Where was this going?
“An’ I’m not crazy. I know I act crazy, but I have very good reasons for what I do. Like these gloves.” He held up his hands. “I wear them so’s I don’t touch
anyone.”
“Yeah. Okay.” This was getting weird.
“An’ I don’t drink ‘cause I want to, I drink ‘cause I have to. I drink to survive.” Jack couldn’t help saying, “I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Nobody can. Not even my buddies in ‘Nam.” “Is it something that happened in the war?”
Walt stared at him with a strange look in his eyes. Jack tried to identify it. The only word he could come up with was … lost.
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“I don’t talk about it. I used to, but I don’t anymore. It landed me in a mental hospital once. I don’t want to go back again.”
“My dad was in the Korean War. He won’t talk about that either.”
