Part 3 (1/2)

I shook my head and reached for my school bag, pulling a souvenir bottle of cheap Smirnoff vodka out as I propped an elbow over his leg to get a better angle. ”I can think of a lot of things I'd rather do with this than pour it down your leg, Felix, but since we're buddies and all that, I'll make an exception, just this once.”

Felix seized the bottle out of my hands. ”Give me a sip, first.” He took a little swig, made a dirty look, and handed it back to me. I had one, too, before leaning over to pour a few drops across the entire gash. Felix moaned painfully. ”G.o.d, that stings.”

”Not as much as a teta.n.u.s shot would.” I bounced my fist on his thigh a few times before throwing the empty bottle onto the tracks. His moan felt like it was caught in my ears. The buzz of the neighborhood was a little quieter than usual, as if the world had suddenly decided to be quiet and catch its breath for a moment. I could feel the late afternoon sun on my face, and wondered if Nicolasha had gone straight home, or might be watching us from the street below. The wind was pretty calm. I a.s.sumed it was Chicago's way of telling me a particularly fearsome winter was on its way.

In fact, it was something I was too unfamiliar with to recognize.

”So why does home suck so bad for you, nowadays?”

I began eyeing the old bank across the street and exhaled tiredly. ”It's a long and boring story, Felix.”

He patted me on the back again. You know, I thought, I've been touched more this month than I had for the last three, maybe five years? ”That's what friends are supposed to be for.”

My face and voice were blank. ”I thought we were just buddies.”

”Well, I'd like to be friends, too. Wouldn't you?”

Sure I would, Felix. I'm just not very good at it, that's all. Ask the guys I used to play ball with. ”I'm really kind of a loner.”

”So am I. We can be loners together, you know.” He nudged me in the arm and held out his hand. I took it and we smiled at each other for a couple of seconds before the gleaming double-deck train rolled up to a halt on the northbound side of the platform.

Felix stood, trying to cover up the pain I could see he was in. He waved at the graying, impatient conductor who stepped from the train doors as a few pa.s.sengers got off. All stops at 55th Street lasted for a few minutes.

Felix wrapped an arm inside of mine. I tried not to blush. ”Why don't you come home with me?”

Could I stay there? ”It's a school night, Felix!”

”Oh, big deal. I didn't pick up my books because I wanted to catch you before you left, so I can't do any homework. My mother is cooking a big dinner tonight, we'll eat, you can tell me all about school, and I can study one thing while you do another. My building has a pool, so we can take a dip afterwards, sleep, and come back here tomorrow morning. This way you won't have to go home, and we loners can keep each other company.”

Do you like cla.s.sical music? ”Where am I going to sleep?”

”Ive got a bunk bed. When I was a kid I was afraid of floors in the dark, ha. Now I just like being up in the air. But you can be on top if you want.”

The conductor looked at the large, round pocket watch attached to his vest by a silver chain, and stepped back into the belly of the train car, waiting for us to make a decision. Felix held up a one-more-minute finger.

Now, let's see. Dad didn't usually roll home until at least eight. Mom was already off teaching, and had to be at the hospital by eleven. I debated whether either of them would notice if I didn't come home. Now there was a stupid question!

”Wouldn't you rather wait until Friday, when we can stay up later?”

”We can do it Friday, too.”

”What about your parents? I don't want to impose on them.”

Felix walked me onto the train by the arm as the conductor closed the sliding metal doors shut behind us. ”They love company. Besides, I won the race, so shut up and pick out where you'd like to sit.”

V I I.

There is no evil angel but love.

Love's Labor's Lost Felix Cromwell lived in a chocolate-brown skysc.r.a.per near Wacker Drive, one that looked more like an office building than an apartment complex. I always figured a condo or flat in the Loop would be big, luxurious, and expensive, but Felix's current home wasn't very big - two bedrooms, a bath for each, a large living-dining area combo, a kitchen, and a tiny vanity bath. h.e.l.l, my Dad's bedroom was that big. Even if the apartment had a great view of the Chicago River, the Wrigley Building, and the Merchandise Mart, it couldn't cost much. Furnis.h.i.+ng-wise, Felix's parents went in for the modern, Scandinavian look, which I'd hardly call luxurious. Any furniture that makes the hardwood floor seem appealing wasn't luxurious. No. What made the Cromwell apartment special was the Cromwell family.

Felix's hyper-ingratiating chit-chat (”What kind of sports, movies, books, music, clothes, travel, people, etc. etc. etc. do you like?”) and manner (smile, nudge, pat, smile, laugh, touch, smile, hold, and so on) had been driving me nuts from the minute we got on the train until we walked into the apartment and I was greeted with the rich aroma of broiling steaks, and a very warm welcome from Felix's good-looking mom, who was happy to abandon dinner to give her only child a hug and his new friend a very unexpected kiss.

”I'm Arlene, the person responsible for the little guy.” Her face was deeply tanned, soft and friendly. The large curls of her dark blond hair were thrown back with abandon. She wore a fuzzy red turtleneck, tight blue jeans, and snakeskin cowboy boots rather well. Her smile was wide and sincere, and was already making me feel very comfortable.

”It's good to meet you, Mrs. Cromwell.” We shook hands.

”Call me Arlene or I won't let you stay for dinner.”

Felix s.h.i.+fted on his feet and cleared his throat as Arlene's eyes zeroed in on his torn slacks and b.l.o.o.d.y leg. Her glare could have stopped a tank division in its tracks. ”Can he stay over tonight, too, Ma?”

She looked at the gash, seemingly satisfied it was nothing dramatic, and then detected the faint smell of cheap American vodka. The glare moved in my direction.

”I couldn't think of anything else to use, Mrs. Crom - Arlene.”

Felix blushed. Arlene peered at me with the patented you-can't-fool-me look known to all mothers. I shrugged my shoulders and tried my innocent look, unsuccessfully.

”Do you always bring vodka to school?” She propped one of her hands on a hip. No, I thought, I'm usually just equipped for little things like broken hearts and s.e.xual confusion. Poisonous leg wounds and making friends are new to me.

”Just on days they hand back some exams.” All right, don't laugh. ”No, ma'am.”

”Do you have any more?”

A veritable distillery at home, but it's my Dad's. ”No, ma'am.”

”Do you smoke pot?”

If I started, I'd put Timothy Leary to shame. ”No, ma'am.”

Arlene reached for a large cutting knife and held the tip of it to the edge of my throat. James giggled quietly in the background. I think Felix was embarra.s.sed.

”Don't f.u.c.k with an armed Jewish mother.” I shook my head. ”Good. No booze, no drugs, and no noise after we go to bed.”

”Yes, ma'am.”

She nodded and returned to the huge salad she was preparing. ”We'll be eating in about an hour. Felix, get your friend set up, and change out of that suit, for Heaven's sake.” She rolled her eyes at me. ”I told him to dress like a normal human being this morning, but, no, I'm only the mother, what the h.e.l.l do I know?”

A mother with a sense of humor. What a novelty!

”Ma, you're the one who told me the Inst.i.tute was part of the university, and everyone who went there was a rich brain! I just wanted to fit in!” Felix pointed at me. ”I didn't think they went in for the ski lodge look!” No, there's more heat in a ski lodge, pal.

”At least your friend doesn't look like an overdressed car salesman, dear.”