Falls Street (7) “Kyle Ruth,” he said. “What?” I asked. “Do you think I’m hanging around him?” “You are,” he said. “Aren’t you?” “Yeah,” I said. “But just for lifting.” “Yeah,” he said as we reached the parking lot. “But, I’m just for drinking, right?” “I don’t see you when you’re not drinking,” I said. “And you won’t,” he said, and there was a long pause. “It’s him, Jason.” “Who?” I asked. “What are you talking about?” “Kyle Ruth,” he said. “He’s fucking her. When he leaves at night. She gets inside his car.” “I haven’t seen that,” I said. “I have,” he said. “Kyle’s not a bad guy,” I said. “Just a little bit of a whiner.” “I think I hate him,” he said. “I think about him all the time.” “Don’t,” I said. “He’s not worth it. He’s just some guy who’s never thought about you in his life, Jeff. Let it go.” “I thought you’d be the last person tell me that,” he said. “Maybe I am,” I said. “Maybe, I’m right.” “It’s not a matter of what’s right,” he said. “It’s just a matter of being what I am.” “This drinking and waiting,” I said. “This can’t be all.” “It is,” he said. “I’ve never complained about it. I’ve never changed for the better or worse.” “Why?” I said. “Are you that damn proud of all this?” “Yes,” he said. “And I won’t change. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done. And the person I was on the first night I saw her, that was the best person I’ve ever been.” “You can make it better than that,” I said. “You have to fucking believe in yourself a little.” He laughed and finished the flask. “You can’t save the world, kiddo,” he said. “You can’t save anybody.” *** I got the call me at dusk when everyone was already on the field. He said he didn’t know who else to call, and I didn’t know what to say when he told me. He was trying real hard not to cry, and he was doing a good job, because I could barely tell he was on the brink. He should have been balling like a baby, but he wasn’t he was stiff, slowly clattering out the words, telling me all the details of it. There weren’t too many details, just some hard truths, some strange hard truths. He said he had called up Crash, but he didn’t know what to tell him. Crash said he could call me, because I might know what to say or do, and I don’t know why that is. He didn’t try to call Ray at all, he said. He was afraid Ray might say something. I don’t know what. I don’t know why, but he was afraid, not of the future, but of me, I guess, and what I would say or do. I think he was waiting for me to hang up, but I got real mad and stayed silent instead, because I’ve never heard anything like that before. I wanted to punch Ray for not being around, and I wanted to punch Crash for not having anything to say. In his way, though, Crash at least let me know. I’m not so sure I would have known otherwise. I said that he should calm down and take it easy, just try to sleep on it and let some body with some know how try to deal with this thing. I tried talking to him, but he kept sputtering, “What do I do? What do I do?” and I said, “I don’t know, bud,” and stuff. I wanted to get off the phone so I could get to the field, so I could see Randy, so I could yell at Crash and Ray if he was there. I wanted to get my ass back to where things were normal and where this nightmare shit couldn’t happen. None of this stuff happens to kids who only have to worry about their hair and their clothes. And there I was dressed up, for what? I wanted to look good when I got in a fight. And he was there doing nothing at all but what he was supposed to, and still that wasn’t good enough. And I believed, I had to believe. “Don’t tell me,” I said. “Don’t tell me if it’s true.” “What am I going to do?” he asked. “What happens now?” “Don’t talk to anybody,” I said. “Don’t say anything.” “But, I need some help,” he said. “I need to know some things.” “Did you talk to your parents,” I asked and I hated saying that. I hated throwing it back to them. “Yeah, but they don’t….” he coughed. “What?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m on my own, he said.” “That bastard,” I said, and he didn’t say anything. “What about your mother?” I asked. “She’s just yelling,” he said. “That’s all, she’s just yelling about it.” “I could ask my folks,” I said. “No,” he said. “I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want you to know.” “ I won’t say anything,” I said. “They would,” he said. “You know they would.” “All right,” I said. “Then go to the school. They have councilors during the summer. Just walk in and explain it to them.” “I don’t know…” he said. “I don’t want them to make it worse…” “What’s worse, Starky,” I said. “What’s worse than ending up in jail, huh?” “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.” “Go to the school tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t know,” he said. “Go to the fucking school tomorrow damn it,” I said. “This is your fucking life. Who gives a fuck about your mother? Fuck that. Just go there, damn it…” “No,” he said. “Fucking Christ,” I said. “Do you need a place to stay?” “No,” he said. “I’m staying with the girls on Green St. tonight.” “Those sluts?” I asked. “Shut up!” he said. “Fuck off, Starky,” I said. “Don’t tell me to shut up. I’m trying to help. You’re just making shit worse by not talking to the right people.” “You have to talk to some adult about this,” I said. “You can’t dodge this.” “I’m not going to,” he said. “I can’t”
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