“The freak accident?” Dick Gibson said gently.
“Yes. They’d become interested in sky diving. It happened right here in Jacksonville on the estate. I was there. I was seven. Father jumped first and then Mother. Only something went wrong. Father’s chute opened, but Mother delayed opening hers, and she fell right on top of him at about two thousand feet. She must have killed him instantly, broke his neck. They fell together another few hundred feet or so. Mother tried to open her chute but her lines must have been all fouled with Father’s. She got the reserve pack open, but the chute never bellied properly. She was able to hitchhike the rest of the way down on the buoyancy in Father’s chute, but she had no control over her drift, and they tumbled down over the trees into the private zoo. Since she was all tangled up in Father’s lines, she wasn’t able to disentangle herself in time. She spooked the tiger and it killed her. She never had a chance.”
“You saw this?”
“I didn’t see the tiger part,” the boy said. He began to cry.
“Don’t cry, son. Don’t cry, Henry.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said. “Sorry.”
“Listen, son, why don’t you go into your grandparents’ room and tell them you’re upset?”
“They’re dead. They died in a freak accident.”
“The tiger?”
“No, sir. They were John Ringling North’s guests on the circus train, and they’d gone back to talk to the alligator woman and the midgets and the four-armed boy in the last car when the bridge buckled. Every car made it to the other side but the freaks’.”
“I see. Your uncle, then. Your aunt.”
“They’re dead too. Everybody’s dead,” Henry said.
“Well, who’s home, son? Who’s home, Henry?”
“Nobody’s home. They’re all dead.”
“Well, somebody’s got to be there. Who do you stay with?”
“I live by myself.”
“What about the housekeeper?”
“I fired the housekeeper. She wasn’t thorough.”
“You said you lived on an estate. What about the gardener?”
“The gardener’s dead.”
“Henry, children often have terrific imaginations. Sometimes they like to tease grown-ups.”
“I don’t like to tease grown-ups. I don’t have a terrific imagination. What do you want me to do, swear that everybody is dead? Okay, I swear it. I swear it on my honor.”
“Well what about the legalities?”
“How do you mean?”
“How can you live by yourself? Legally, that is. Don’t the courts have anything to say?”
“Plenty. They have plenty to say. When my parents died I was given over to the custody of my grandfather. But then he and Grandmother died in the freak accident. There were no other relatives. I had an executor and he died, and the man who took over for him, he died too. I guess all the provisions for me just finally ran out. I don’t blame anyone. There’s a curse on me, I think. My guardians are wiped out. There’s a trust fund which I don’t get till I’m twenty-one, but there’s cash. There’s a lot of cash around the house — about three quarters of a million dollars — and I use that to live. I’m all alone here. But I go to school. I never play hooky.”
“Henry, a boy needs adult guidance. How can you live in a big house all by yourself? What about your meals?”
“I’m all right. I’m fine. I make my own breakfast and the school has a hot lunch program. At night I eat in restaurants. I take taxis to them, or sometimes if I don’t feel like going out I have a cab bring over some chicken from the Colonel.”
“Well, that’s all very fine, Henry, but I really think you shouldn’t be by yourself.”
“If I had a little brother … They wouldn’t let me adopt one, do you think?”
“No, Henry.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Listen, Henry, I’d like you to make me a promise.”
“What?”
“Will you promise?”
“I’ll have to hear what it is first. I won’t step into anything blindfolded.”
“I want you to promise that first thing tomorrow you’ll get in touch with the authorities and tell them about your arrangements. Will you promise me that, Henry?”
“Certainly not. I can take care of myself. Listen, I pay my bills. I’m never behind on the gas or electricity. The phone’s always taken care of. I go for my checkups when I’m supposed to and I leave the cash with the nurse right after the examination. They never have to bill me. If I need a plumber or a roofer I know how to get in touch with one. I use the Yellow Pages. I’m fair with the merchants. Cash on the barrelhead — which is more than a lot of adults can say. I even give to charity.”
“Well, who do you play with, Henry?”
“I don’t play much. But I go to ballgames whenever I want. Last September I wanted to see the World Series, so I just hopped on a jet and went. I got the tickets from a scalper outside the stadium but they were good seats. Listen, I’m very responsible. I’m no wild kid or anything.”
“It’s your life, Henry, but I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Don’t get me wrong. It was fine living with my grandparents. They were nice people. When they died I had a good relationship with my executor. He was an old friend of the family and we got along very well. The man who took his place when he died, that’s another story. Well, he was a perfect stranger. I’m sorry he had the heart attack, of course, but I didn’t mourn or anything. I just don’t want anyone adopting me for my money. Listen, I’m all right.”
“Except you can’t sleep nights.”
“What? What’s that? Well, yes, but your program helps a lot. That’s why I called. I want to join a Listening Post. I mean, I listen to all these old people who call up and tell you their troubles and they try to put a good face on things but you can tell they’re scared and that their hearts are broken. They break my heart. They remind me of my first executor. He was terminal, just like that Mrs. Dormer who calls from Sun City. I think it would help if I could write some of those people. I don’t mean I’d give them advice — though I could probably give them some pretty good advice. I could tell them that it doesn’t matter, that it’s important to have courage, that that’s what matters. But I don’t mean advice. Anyway, they probably wouldn’t take it from a kid. But maybe I could help some of them with money — you know, to get their operations or bring their sons home from San Diego to see them before it’s too late. I have all this cash lying around. I don’t need much. I’d move into a smaller house like a shot, but I can’t put the estate on the market because I can’t enter into contracts yet. That’s the big hitch about being a kid and living by yourself, you can’t enter into contracts. I think I might move into a smaller house anyway and just close down the big one. Anyway, I’d like to join one of the Listening Posts. I probably have more in common with some of these people than you might expect, and — let’s face it — it would make me feel a whole lot better to be able to help out. So that’s why I called. I wanted to thank you too. You do very good work.”
“You’re a good boy, Henry,” Dick said, and he hung up after promising to send the materials as soon as he got the boy’s application.
Moved by Henry’s call, but not quite certain that it wasn’t a joke, he felt strangely troubled the rest of the evening. The callers seemed similarly affected; they were subdued and even the number of calls fell off sharply. Dick had to stretch out conversations with people he normally wouldn’t have kept on the air more than five minutes.