“I think he can do it alone this time, Bud. Really, you should see him. The point is, I thought... This wasn’t his idea, Bud. In fact he opposed it all the way... but I thought you could put him up for a while. The audition is next week, and he thinks he can be in shape by then. It’s a good band, Bud — Laddy Fredericks, the one who—”
“You want an honest answer?”
“Yes, of course.”
“No.”
“He said you would say no, and I don’t blame you, Bud, if that’s the way you feel. But after he’s come so far, it seems a shame—”
“He’s come this far before, hasn’t he? You should know that better than I. He’s come this far, and then he’s slipped back again. What makes you think it’ll be any different this time?”
“I just know it will,” she said.
“Oh, hell, I’m in the middle of finals. How could I—”
“It’s not that you’d have to do anything, Bud — nothing like that. You see, he doesn’t need watching or anything like that. That’s why he wants to get out of his parents’—”
“Answer me one question, will you, Carol?”
“What’s that?”
“Why? Why the hell are you bothering?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she said.
“Is he near the phone?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Where are you now?”
“At his house. His parents went to a movie. They... they left him in my care. That’s the whole thing, Bud. They don’t trust him at all. He feels like a prisoner, and this time he’s really determined to break it, so he shouldn’t have two strikes against him to start. Do you see?”
“Sure, I see. But I’ve got exams coming up next week. Jesus, Carol, did he have to pick—”
“Well, if you don’t want to...”
“It’s not that I want to or I don’t want to. It’s just that I can’t believe him, and I happen to be goddamn busy. What would you do in my position?”
“He’s your closest friend,” Carol said.
“Don’t make me laugh,” Bud answered.
“Well, it’s up to you,” she said, sighing.
“You’re really putting me on a spot. I’ve got a lot of studying to do, Carol. I’m graduating next semester, I hope. How can I... You said he has an audition coming up. Does that mean he’ll be practicing?”
“Yes, but he won’t bother you. He just wants to get his lip back in shape. He can use a mute.”
“Oh, hell, I don’t know.” He was silent for a moment, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “He’s right there with you?”
“Yes.”
“You could have called from outside, you know. Now I’ll look like a Grade-A louse if I say no.”
“It’s up to you,” Carol said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Now you’re getting offended.”
“No, no, it’s completely up to you. Honestly. What do you say, Bud? If it’s no, we’ve got to think of something else.”
“What’ll you do if I say no?”
“I’ll worry about that after you say it.”
“I must be crazy,” he mumbled.
“Bud?”
“Bring him over, bring him over. Damnit, I must be crazy.”
“I appreciate this, Bud. I really do.”
“You’d better be ready to explain it all to me, because I certainly can’t see why—”
“You’re on Seventy-fourth, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Give us about forty minutes.”
“All right, I’ll be looking for you. But I still can’t—”
“I’ll explain when I see you.”
“It better be good.”
“Forty minutes, Bud.”
“All right. So long, Carol.”
“Good-by, Bud,” she said, and then she hung up.
He replaced the receiver and stood staring at the phone for a long time. Idiotically, he tried to tell himself that the call had never happened, that he had dreamed the entire thing, that it was a combination of Dr. Mason and eyestrain. He had not seen Andy in two — no, almost two and a half-years. That was a long time — too long a time. And now he’d picked the worst possible moment to come back from the dead. Any other time but...
He remembered when he was twelve and had gone to confession the week before Easter. He had been full of religious spirit and had wanted to set things straight in the house of his soul. He had said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This is one year since my last confession.” He had heard the sullen grumble through the screen, and then the priest asked, “It’s one year since your last confession?” He had answered, “Yes, Father,” and the priest exploded with “And you pick the busiest time of the year to come again!” The experience had shaken him deeply, a major link in the chain of events which had brought him to his current religious feelings or lack of feelings. But reflecting back on the incident in the light of what had just happened, he could understand a little of the priest’s feelings on the matter. It was all right to make a stab at self-redemption, but even salvation can wait a week or two. All right, Andy was trying to pick himself up, but couldn’t he have waited until finals were over? Life was all a matter of timing, by God, and Andy had certainly picked the wrong time this time.
Nor did he honestly believe that this time would be any different than all the other times he’d been told about. They all started with the same fervor, and then Andy always wound up right back where he’d started. The amazing part was that Carol had been taken in again. How had he possibly talked her into that? Why was she bothering? Hadn’t she tried to help him often enough over the past two years, God only knew why? And hadn’t she always been left holding the empty sack? So why was she bothering? Why...
For that matter, he thought, why am I bothering? How on earth did I get suckered into this deal, right smack in the middle of finals, aren’t finals important, too, isn’t my three-and-a-half-year plan important, isn’t it all relative, and isn’t my own damn salvation every bit as important as Andy’s? How, how did I get suckered into it, why couldn’t I have stuck to No, why did I let her talk me into it, why can she talk me into things like that? Friendship, sure friendship, throw the trigger word at me, ring the trigger bell and watch me begin to salivate, friendship, friendship, just a perfect blendship, but there’s nothing as dead as last year’s friends. But it had been a good friendship, don’t belittle that, don’t shake the foundations of the universe, because you know it was good, you know it was something you’ve never found again, but who is this new Andy, is this the Andy who was your friend? Was he your friend two years ago for that matter, or had it all died before then? What can we talk about? What’s our common ground now? A dead friendship, is that what we’ll talk about? Can we discuss Milton’s angels? Shall we talk about metathesis? Or how about deferring to the guest and discussing the ratio of sugar to pure heroin in an average injection?
It would be murder. He should have said no. He should have said no and stuck to it, and that was that. But he hadn’t said no, he’d said yes, all right, all right, reluctantly, but yes, and they’d be here in forty minutes and the place looked like a filthy pigsty and Satan was leering between the covers of that spiral notebook, and oh hell, oh goddamnit to hell, anyway.
He began straightening the apartment.
He was immersed in Milton when the doorbell rang. He pulled himself away from the notes, resenting the intrusion because he’d finally achieved a high level of concentration for the first time that night. But the doorbell reminded him of what was ahead, and his concentration shattered like a piece of fragile crystal, and he cursed himself again and then shoved himself away from the table and went to the door, giving a last look around the tidied place.