“I’m going to kil him!”
“You’l do no such thing. And drink some milk. Water makes it worse.”
Tom lifted his dripping face. “What?”
Kate grinned at him. “The stuff that burns is an oil. Water spreads it around.”
“Oh, no!” Tom leaped for the fridge.
“And don’t you dare drink from the carton!” Mom told him.
Jack stood by while Kate told Dad what had happened.
“Serves him right.” He laughed, then settled down to watch the evening news
before dinner.
Though the burning from the tepin juice had been intense, it hadn’t lasted long.
Tom recovered and had retreated to his room in embarrassment. Jack was heading back to the kitchen when he heard a knock. He reversed direction
and arrived in time to see his dad opening the front door for Mr.
Bainbridge.
They shook hands, then Mr. Bainbridge pointed at Jack and smiled. “There’s the man I want to see.”
Jack looked around. Man? Me? Was he in trouble?
“Jack?” Dad said. “What for?”
“Seems he stood up for my brother-in-law the other day when that Bishop punk
was hassling him.”
Dad tilted his head down and looked at Jack over the top of his reading glasses. “That so?”
Embarrassed, Jack shrugged. “Not real y. Weezy’s the one who—” “Yeah. Walt’s not always reliable in what he says, but he told me you and the
Connel girl took his back against two guys a lot bigger.” Mr. Bainbridge looked at Dad. “Sound like your boy’s not afraid of anything—just like his old
man.”
Dad gave him a sharp look, then turned to Jack. “Grab us a couple of beers, wil
you?”
“Sure.”
As he left the room he heard Dad say, “No Korea talk, Kurt. You know how I feel
about that. Save it for the VFW.”
Yeah, Dad never wanted to talk about the war. He and Mr. Bainbridge had met
in Korea. Then, seven years ago, when his company transferred him
from Kansas City to Trenton, he looked up Dad. He loved to fish, and when he
learned how plentiful the trout and bass were in these parts, he decided Johnson was the ideal place to live. So he moved in with his wife, Evelyn, and
her brother, Weird Walt.
Jack pul ed out a couple of Carlings, red cans with a black label, and brought
them back to the living room. On the way in, he heard Mr. Bainbridge
speaking in a low voice.
“Yeah, Walt’s al right. Keeps to himself. Mostly we don’t know he’s there. But the
drinking … man, the guy’s always half lit. He says it’s because of
‘Nam, but come on—he couldn’t have seen any worse than we did above the
thirty-eighth. We—”
He cut off when Jack arrived with the beers.
“Ah, here’s the man we’ve been waiting for.” He laughed as he took the can from
Jack. “‘Mabel! Black Label!’ I see you’re stil stocking the Canuck stuff,
Tom.”
“They know their beer.”
They popped their tops, clinked cans, and drank.
Jack hesitated, then had to ask: “What did you mean by ‘above the
thirty-eighth’?”
