Hippieville

By Marcia K. Matthews

Bad Boy Reforms for Love

A rock god crashes from his pedestal when the innocent young girl he victimized turns the tables.

Just as the prodigal son rose up and came home, the rock god of Hippieville finds himself at the end of a long, hard road. He seeks a spiritual advisor to confess to and give him guidance. In 1968, Ben Z. ruled the town. Likable, rich, and non-involved, at first he wouldnt admit he did anything wrong. He committed a crime and now he has to atone for it. When a friend asked, "Was it the kind you commit with a car, a gun?" he said, "No, with your body." He was so wasted that he blundered into sex with the wrong girl, and raped her. Instead of his willing groupie, she turned out to be an innocent high school girl who had too much to drink at her first big party. Leda woke up pregnant. Scandal rocks the small New Hampshire town, and she bears "The Scarlet Letter." But Ben isn't spineless like Dimmesdale in Hawthorne's classic. He stands up for Leda in front of the whole town. Leda acts as though she looks up to him, but she plots with her cousin Evie, the singer in the band, to force him to sign a confession. Ben fights to maintain a facade of honor as his world crashes down. The cops, his father, and the jealous town boyshe has to face them all.

Leda runs away to the city and vanishes among the Flower Children. Ben follows, searching for a chance to redeem himself. Disinherited, he works as a lowly dishwasher in a cafeteria near the encampment the Mayor of Boston calls Hippieville. Boston boils over with anti-war protests. In a disastrous riot, the police chase the hippies off the Common. When Ben meets Leda again, she distrusts him, but in desperation, she moves in with him. They live for months as platonic roommates, their dialog an escalating war of insults in the cramped apartment on Beacon Hill.

Cover art used by permission Linda B. Levine

Quotes on HIPPIEVILLE:

"It's about people and how they fit into their generation and how their times affect their lives. It is timeless, because the search for independence and a sense of family is a timeless theme, but one that seemed particularly poignant in the '60's when the young were coming up and overthrowing the old. It was exciting to be running wild and searching for a better family than the one from which we all came."

--Sam Southworth, Portsmouth NH

"The external turbulence of the times is woven seamlessly into the inner turbulence and demons of the main characters. HIPPIEVILLE never pulled any punches. It never got soft. It was raw, fast and real."

--Karen Clayton, Toronto ON

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 26, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493144945

Marcia K. Matthews

MARCIA K. MATTHEWS is a Gemini born in Boston in the year of the Buffalo. She majored in English at the University of New Hampshire, and graduated cum laude in 1974. Her poems have appeared in Hawaii Review; Sojourner; and A Wise Woman's Garden; journalism in The Belmont Citizen-Herald; The TAB; Equal Times; and Newburyport Daily News. Her pamphlet Pornography-License to Kill (New England Free Press, 1978) was anthologized in Fight Back (Cleis Press, Minneapolis, 1983). Her novels include: Morgan's Way: Henry Morgan holds 17th Century Jamaica for England. The Liberty Boys: Maid Dacey Flynn joins the patriots of Savannah and ships aboard with Oliver Bowen. Boss of the Bayou: Jean Lafitte and his pirates help win the War of 1812. Prides Crossing: Mary Brandegee rivals art collectors Gardner and Frick in Edwardian New England. Gegenspion/Counterspy: A German prince helps the Allies as a code-breaker in WW II. Currently facilitating a creative writing group at the Woonsocket, Rhode Island Library, she honed her speaking skills at Toastmasters International.

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Copyright © 2013 by Marcia K. Matthews.

ISBN:        Softcover            978-1-4931-4493-8

                  Ebook                 978-1-4931-4494-5

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 11/22/2013

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CONTENTS

MUSIC CREDITS:

I. ADVENT

II. DOC CHASE

III. A DAY IN THE LIFE

IV. PRACTICE

V. PARTY

VI. CRASHING

VII. ACADEMIA

VIII. TRIPPING

IX. OVERS

X. PARKING

XI. ANOTHER PARTY

XII. CORRESPONDENCE

XIII. THE OPENING

XIV. THE KILLINGTON DANCE

XV. TRUTH

XVI. THE CITY IN THE RAIN

XVII. SWEET BLINDNESS

XVIII. SOLILOQUY

XIX. FRIENDS

XX. GROOVIN’

XXI. REUNIONS

XXII. HARD TIMES

XXIII. HIPPIEVILLE RIOTS

XXIV. SUCCESS

XXV. THE QUEEN EN PRISE

XXVI. SQUARING OFF

XXVII. A MATING NET

XXVIII. NIGHT BASEBALL

XXIX. IN THE GARDEN

XXX. BABY

XXXI. PERPETUAL CHECK

XXXII. FAITH

XXXIII. TRYING TO GET HOME

MUSIC CREDITS:

Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer © 1953 St. Nicholas Music, Inc. 1619 Broadway, 6th Floor New York NY 10019

Light My Fire © 1967 by the Doors Doors Music Company Attn: Jerry Swartz 9200 Sunset Boulevard Suite 706 Los Angeles CA 90069

White Rabbit © 1968 Almo Publications An Affiliate of A&M Records 1312 North Le Brea Hollywood CA 90028

I’ll Take You There © 1968 Almo Publications An Affiliate of A&M Records 1312 North Le Brea Hollywood CA 90028

Foxy Lady © 1968 Jimi Hendrix Chappell/Intersong Music Group 810 Seventh Avenue New York NY 10019

Grazing in the Grass © 1968 Harry Elston/Phelemon Hou, Cherio Corporation, New York;

Younger Girl © 1965, 6 John Sebastian, Faithful Virtue Music Company, New York;

Tracks of My Tears © 1964 William Smokey Robinson, Jobete Music, Los Angeles;

Seargeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band © 1967 John Lennon/Paul McCartney, BMI, New York;

What’d I Say © 1959 Ray Charles, BMI New York.

I dedicate this novel to Karen Clayton.

I. ADVENT

Waiting in the confessional, the priest hears someone enter and feels a presence. I’ve got to talk to someone, Father Keegan. The voice comes from above his head.

Are you here to confess, my son?

Yeah. The suppliant kneels and recites the formula. Bless me Father, for I have sinned. He speaks in the arrogant tone of a young man who doesn’t care.

Father Keegan recognizes the famous voice, intelligent, precise and seductive, which stirred the girls to screaming at the C.Y.O. dance. The deep, masculine voice can be smooth, or rough as a soul howling from hell.

The priest peers through the scrim. Is that you, Ben?

Ben continues, It’s been three years since my last confession.

Oh, I think it’s been longer than that, he responds in a jovial tone. Something about a girl from across the tracks. Your father didn’t approve.

He waits, but Ben has clammed up. The winter wind scours the walls of Saint Mary’s. Ben’s voice then resumes. I need to talk, Father. To somebody I can’t con. You were strict when you said ‘Obey your parents’. You didn’t know my parents, but you meant well. I came to terms with them, and things were going okay. Then last year, I did something so stupid… I’m hoping you can help me get it together.

Another long silence.

The priest sits back. I remember when you were a boy, your singing brought tears to my eyes. That pure soprano you know can’t last. After the lesson of the widow’s mite, I found a fifty dollar bill in the poor box. Was that your allowance? No answer.

Do you know what that meant, to a poor family?

Ben guesses, Christmas presents?

No, oil in the furnace. It meant they’d survive the winter. So whatever you have to say, I’m here.

Ben launches into his list. I lied five times. A day. Experienced lust, and the act itself.

How many times?

In the past four years? Ben exclaims, staggered.

Let’s confine it to last year.

Ben nods. Last year at this time, I was free. I thought I was happy, but I was flirting with death. Drinking, drugging, speeding… But life reached out and grabbed me back. Like when my baby smiled at me and she grabbed my hand.

You have a baby? I didn’t even know you were married.

After a prolonged silence, the priest hears a strangled sob and snuffling as Ben masters his emotions. Like many priests an amateur psychologist, Father Keegan waits until the storm has passed. You’ve changed, he says gently. When you were a young boy, you were always so guarded.

Yeah, Ben replies gruffly. Well, last year I messed up. Christmas Eve, I was in jail for speeding. My car spun out on the ice, but I got out of it without a scratch.

God spared you, my son.

Ben looks up with a smile that penetrates the darkness. You think so? I felt lucky and happy to be alive. I saw a girl and I wanted her. She was young, innocent and pure.

And then?

And then she met me.

What sin are you confessing?

Render unto Caesar. Not every crime is a sin.

Go ahead, Ben. Sharing your secrets can free you of the past.

*     *     *

They stuck me in a cell. I could practically touch both walls. They were painted green, like congealed split pea soup. The gate had floor-to-ceiling bars along the corridor. It was damp and drafty, and smelled like a bass note of old urine mixed with faint memories of bleach, dust, sweat and fear.

The next cell to mine was the holding tank, where an old man huddled in a blanket was singing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer in a scratchy voice. Once in a while the cops out front would talk to each other, but mostly it was quiet.

I had rolled up my P-coat for a pillow on the hardwood plank and was lying on my back. I joined in, singing a blues progression. The old drunk called over, Copy cat! Either sing the same song I’m singing, or shut up!

Hi, Ralph! I heard a young voice out front as another cop came in.

Hi, Cassidy! said Ralph Sorrentino.

Merry Christmas! yelled Bill Wallis, the desk sergeant. I recognized his booming deep voice.

What’s going on? asked Cassidy.

Some kids threw a party on North Street, Sorrentino expounded. Neighbors asked us to break it up, as the parents didn’t authorize it. When we arrived at the scene, Zacharias peeled out. We bagged him in the fifty mile-an-hour zone on 103 East, between the cliffs. He did some three-sixties in the road and just sat there, disoriented.

Clear over to Bradford? Isn’t that out of our jurisdiction?

They laughed. Sorrentino’s partner chimed in, Yeah, but we were in hot pursuit.

Sorrentino resumed, Searched the car and these were in the ashtray. I imagined him showing Cassidy the pot roaches. Looked high as a kite, from his eyes.

Was he drunk?

No, not this time.

In a soft, soulful baritone, I hummed, You know Prancer and Dancer and… Vomit and Vixen… My nerves were still racing. Denny must have left the roaches in my ashtray, but that was irrelevant. Possession, as they say, is nine points of the law. Or is it nine tenths? I stared at the bare light bulb outside the cell, trying to shrink the old dilated pupils.

His band’s doing good now, I hear, Bill Wallis said. Their last dance sold out at the high school. He raised his voice. What charges should I log, Ralph?

Traffic signal violation. Exceeding the speed limit, 85 in a 50. Possession of a Class D substance, to wit, marijuana.

Isn’t his father the Zacharias that owns Heritage Mills? asked the young cop.

Wallis replied, Yeah, Dick Zacharias. He’s loaded, and the kid’s the worst hood in town. Take a look at his rap sheet, Cadet Cassidy.

A heavy slap as my file hit the floor. A groan as somebody bent over to collect it. Cassidy read, ‘Drunk and disorderly, property destruction, assault and battery on a police officer…’

That’s when he was just fourteen, said Wallis like he was recalling a fond memory.

I couldn’t help worrying about my alleged parents. Dick was going to hit the roof, and Penny, I dreaded telling her. At least Dennis didn’t get caught with the stash.

Hair—long, black, curly; eyes—dark brown; skin—olive. Paper rustled as Cassidy flipped through the file.

Wow, he went right down hill. But he’s great in that rock band. My sister goes to all their dances. She’s got his picture up on the wall.

A couple of them snickered and laughed. You better nip that in the bud. The way he goes through girls, I wouldn’t let my sister within a mile of the kid.

You could end up being his relative.

The cops would have their joke. Lying on the rack, I wondered how Denny could have gotten so careless. After all that phenomenal good luck, to be nailed for something I didn’t do, and not have the bail money, that was too much!

The old man in the tank was coughing again. I could imagine his miserable life. He was probably better off in jail than out in the storm, huddled in some doorway. I thought of my electric blanket.

I thought about my father—The cocktail party would start him on a binge. I only missed my mother. In the two years since she’d been home from the nuthouse—I mean the private psychiatric hospital—I could do no wrong. Tonight Penny was back in the social whirl, and Dick was off the wagon.

I thought about Jeff, my best friend. His incredible voice and perfect pitch. He did the arrangements and ran the group like a well-oiled engine. He’d go bail for me.

The old man in the holding pen coughed and coughed. The cops had a good electric heater up front. Pacing the cell, I noticed the water in the toilet was frozen. Jazzed-up Rudolph wasn’t asked to join in any raunchy games.

The outside door creaked open with a blast of cold air that came right down the cellblock. Greetings from the other cops. Lunky had come onto his shift.

Sergeant Joe Lodonis. Us guys have a name for him—Lunky. On Halloween, me and Denny had retaliated for all his surveillance. We lit off a cherry bomb in the men’s room under the police station, and blew Lunky four feet in the air. His cop hat flew over the top of the stall.

After a while the old man started singing again and I did too. Lunky laughed when he heard me. What’s that awful racket? called his bass voice. ZachaRYEass? I was his sworn enemy, I guess ’cause in the past two years he had failed to make any charges stick. He had vowed to fry ZachaRYEass.

Yeah, we nabbed him for speeding. And look what he had in the ashtray.

Drug evidence! exclaimed Lunky happily. He said to Cassidy, the rookie, C’mon, Frank. Watch a criminal mind in action.

Entering the cellblock, the sergeant held out a bag of donuts to the old man in the drunk tank. Stretching out, I nearly fell asleep from the excitement of it all.

Well, look what Santa Claus brought! goes Lunky. I ignored him.

Nice to see you, Ben. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without you.

Turning my head, I grinned at them. Same here. It jolted me to see his ruddy face, piercing light eyes and light brown hair brushed into a flattop. Frank Cassidy looked simpatico in spite of the glasses and hay-colored crewcut.

Lunky didn’t seem too impressed by my act. From our past fights, he knew I had a temper. He ordered me, Get up, Zacharias. I took my time getting up, slung my P-coat over my shoulder like I expected him to let me out. Lunky held out the doughnuts.

I was actually pretty hungry. Got any jelly? I took one and ate half of it.

Tell us about the pot, said Lunky.

I gave him a look somewhere between tolerant and amused. Lunky spoke to Cassidy, jerking his thumb toward me. Cadet Cassidy, that’s a dangerous criminal. Good-looking, got everything going for him, but he’s not as dumb as he looks. Confronting me with the evidence, crumpled ends of two joints, he said, You think you’re above the law. You think you run this town, but you don’t.

I didn’t answer him. I’m not so quick to speak sometimes.

Besides, I didn’t run the town, my father ran it. Lunky continued,

How’d the evidence get in your car?

Got any coffee?

Go get him some, Lunky told Frank, who left with the doughnuts. Lunky called out front, Anybody search him yet? I knew what was coming.

Without waiting for an answer, he unlocked the cell and slid open the gate. I put my hands on the wall. As Lunky reached me, I said, Just don’t get personal.

Don’t get excited. Frisking me, Lunky took off my belt and coiled it up. He went through my jacket and ordered me to take my boots off.

I kicked them off. Lunky dumped the boots—empty. He looked up and the look I gave him was friendly. I felt mellow toward the cops, not hostile any more. It was the philosophy of non-violence. Last fall the drummer in the band and I had beat up a drug snitch at the university. We put him in the hospital. So I took a vow never to draw blood on another human being.

If Martin Luther King could stand up under police beatings and imprisonment and go on to win the Nobel Peace Prize, the least I could do was be nice to a cop on Christmas Eve. Lunky handed my boots back and I put them on.

In the next cell, the old man coughed.

Want my jacket? I asked him.

No! The geezer practically bit my head off.

Grinning, I rolled the coat into a pillow and sat against it.

Lunky suspected something. What are you on, Ben?

Just the goodwill of the season.

Frank Cassidy came back with a styrofoam cup of black coffee and I sipped it. Lunky resumed, Who do you think you’re fooling? This isn’t you. What happened to the kid that kicked the window out of my squad car?

I believe in love now.

Yeah, like last summer—contributing to the delinquency of a minor girl.

It was a trumped-up charge. I shrugged. I was asleep.

Yeah, drugged out. How’s it feel to be the most depraved human being on earth? He was so gung-ho it made me laugh.

We know you sell drugs. Who’s in it with you?

Handing the cup back to Cassidy, I sat against the jacket.

There’s nothing to be in.

Lunky moved to lift me under the arm, but I stood up by myself. You must like it here.

I looked around. Yeah, this place really agrees with me, I nodded with a touch of sarcasm.

Better get used to it. We’re going to make it stick this time.

Can I make a phone call? I asked politely.

Leading me by the arm, Lunky shoved me in the direction of the front desk. I squared my shoulders and walked as straight as I could. I was taller than him.

Lunky set the phone in front of me with a jingle and I hummed Jingle Bells as I dialed.

Where my street, Elizabeth Street, turns onto Dawson Avenue, stand two big Norway maples. That’s the Chase house. Dr. James Chase is a hard-working man.

I knew when I called they’d all be there, his wife, Muriel and the four children: Jeffrey, twenty, Andrew, age ten, Alex, eight and Jodi, four.

Ma Chase would be cooking dinner in the kitchen with the Colonial brass lights. She’d be bustling around, anxious that one of her children would be malnourished unless she personally saw to it that he or she had three servings of everything.

Dr. Chase would be sitting at the head of the table. Sometimes he could be strict, but I imagined tonight he’d be smiling and enjoying the occasion.

Sure enough, it was Muriel who answered the phone. In the background I could hear the children laughing and talking loudly, Jodi singing a Christmas carol. I said, Hi, Ma Chase. Is Jeff home?

Oh hi, Ben. We’re waiting for you. Jeffrey, it’s Ben!

When Jeff came on the line, I said, I’m busted. Downtown. Need 500 to spring me.

Sh-whew! I’ll ask Dad.

I could picture the doctor’s blue eyes looking stern over his glasses. I heard the Doc say, What’d he do this time?

Somebody left pot in the ashtray of my car, I told Jeff.

After a pause, Jeff told me, All set.

Cassidy brought me back to my cell. Up front, Lunky griped about the pull my family has in the town. The cops hadn’t beaten me up since my Junior year. My dad talked to the Chief of Police, and they never really touched me again after that.

Ten minutes later they unlocked the gate and escorted me out front. Jeff was standing at the desk surrounded by five cops. His parka was hanging open. His cheeks were red. Snow was melting to beads on his light brown hair.

Lunky nodded like a wise-ass. Wallis cracked, Good connections, huh, Ben?

Jeff’s eyes bulged out. He was angry. Ben was clean, so drop it.

Lunky handed over my wallet, belt and keys. All right, Speedo, he said, Get out. But we’re impounding your hot rod till the trial.

Aw, you Screwge, I drawled.

Lunky waved us along. Get out, before I change my mind.

Jeff pushed me along the sidewalk. When we were farther down the snowy street he asked me, You were clean, weren’t you, Benny?

Sure. I just wanted to get away. But I hit a patch of ice and spun around.

You jerk, he said warmly. You could’ve been killed.

I shrugged. "I didn’t hit the cliff or nothing.

II. DOC CHASE

The windows at Julians’ Rexall were steamed over on the inside. Sleigh bells on plastic holly chimed as we entered. The heat felt good on my face. The jukebox blared Martha Reeves’s Rescue Me. The frappe machine was going.

School kids and townspeople sat in the booths and at the soda fountain. Jeff led me between a pantyhose display and a paperback stand. Some high schoolers stared at us college men, out on the town.

I sat down at the counter, spinning the next stool with my boot. Frances stopped the frappe mixer, poured a shake and set it down in front of a teenager. He handed her the money and she said, Thank you, darlin’. Her cherry-blossom cheeks made dimples as she smiled at an old man and picked up her tip. Thank you, dear. Noticing me, she hustled over.

Hello, Ben. Elbows on the counter, she leaned toward me. She was thirty five, and built. Her dress and apron emphasized the curves.

Hi, Frances.

She seemed to be expecting a kiss, so I gave her a peck on the lips.

What’ll you have?

Coffee regular, I ordered.

Two coffees? She slid the brimming mugs toward us and went off to take another order.

What’s between you and Frances? Jeff was in a chatty mood tonight.

Nothing. Cool it on Frances, huh, Jeffy?

Okay.

And cool it on the bust. I gotta prepare my old lady before my day in court.

How are you pleading?

Nolo.

Lucky they didn’t catch you last year, when you wrapped up the pound of dope like a Christmas present. Lunky would really glory in that, huh, if he caught you dealing?

Cool it on the dealing, Jeff. Talk trivia in public.

Is Fran’s mother really a hooker?

I heard she makes rugs, I replied in a blasé drawl.

Jeff chuckled, glancing at Frances as she innocently cleared some dishes.

Wallis called me ‘the worst hood in Beaumont’, I recalled, sipping the hot coffee.

Jeff frowned. You aren’t any worse than Tom or Denny, or me. He thought it over and his face lit up. Wasn’t that a great fight at Satko’s party?

You’re still on that?

I can’t believe you took on the Preachers. I know you’re suicidal, but man—

Those half-assed Hell’s Angels. Nobody calls a friend of mine a coon. I promised Everett I’d watch out for Josh. I don’t want him to move away too. Dropping my voice, I added, Then the town would be lily white for real. Jeff nodded with a grin. I got up to play a song on the jukebox. Loud music would keep the conversation private.

The door jingled open, blowing in a gust of snow. Eveline entered with another girl. Seeing me and Jeff, Evie waved. Her red hair bushed out under a ski hat. The other girl hung back, awkward and shy. Evie pulled her toward the counter where we were sitting.

Hopping onto the stool next to Jeff, Evie hugged and kissed him. The other girl sat down on the fourth stool from me, pulling her long skirt and coat even longer over her knees.

Evie exclaimed, Just made it before the stores closed. She gave Jeff a package. I called the house, but the Doc said you went downtown. Where were you? Oh yeah, this is Leda.

Leda who? I asked.

Oh Ben! You know, my cousin Leda. So where were you guys?

I lied, Just went to Mass. Said a few Hail Mary’s in honor of the day. Hello, Leda.

Leda glanced up and said something, I couldn’t hear what. She lowered her head and went through her vinyl pocketbook. I thought she was a strange girl—so self-conscious when Evie was the opposite.

Leda’s wavy brown hair hung down like curtains, hiding her face. She couldn’t seem to look at us guys without blushing. She had big brown eyes that tilted up. I wanted to reassure her that life was just a practical joke, but she kept shrinking down in the seat like she couldn’t wait to get out of there. My reputation had preceded me.

Ben, said Jeff, we’re late for dinner. Like an afterthought, he invited the two girls.

Sure, said Evie. We already ate, but we can play pingpong in the rec room while we’re waiting for you.

Leda looked reluctant. I have to go home, she told Evie. She walked rapidly in front of me. Opening the door, she held it till I caught it, then walked away. Those rubber galoshes she wore weren’t very stylish, but they were sure-footed in the snow.

My bandmates walked in the other direction. Evie hung onto Jeff. Her loafers were slipping. She struck up the Brenda Lee tune, Rocking Around the Christmas Tree. Jeff joined in. They sounded great together, but I wasn’t really paying attention.

Two stores up, Leda looked back. I hadn’t moved. I was judging her walk, no hip rotation, just a practical stride meant to cover distance. For the first time I saw her face clearly. She had delicate features and dainty lips like the Madonna: chaste, prim, with no flirtation. Seeing me stare, she turned back again instantly. Bye,

I called after her.

Nice seeing you, Ben, she blurted. She was so awkward, I could tell the girl hadn’t been around.

I walked away with my friends, singing in a fake French accent. We carolled all the way to Dawson Avenue.

*     *     *

I stamped my boots on the welcome mat in the mud room, knocking off the snow. We shucked our coats and Jeff hung them on pegs.

Jeff’s brother Andy looked up from his plate, talking with his mouth full. What took you so long?

Car trouble. I smiled to see them all gathered around a feast in the dining room, and called the children. Alex. Jodi. They ran over to me. Alex grinned up at me and four-year-old Jodi hugged my leg. Picking up the little girl, I walked in.

It took me a minute to pry off the bouncy child. I sat down next to Doc Chase. Jeff’s mom set a plate in front of me, heaped with pork and scalloped potatoes. Have you eaten yet, Evie? she called to the red-haired menace, who was standing in the kitchen. Yeah, Evie nodded, walking into the living room with Jeff.

She pinched a sprig of the blue spruce Christmas tree and inhaled the fragrance. Jeff put her gift under the tree and picked up a large package. I bet that’s a dictionary.

You better not open that present I gave you in front of your parents. Unless they know you smoke.

Good hint, Evie. What is it, an ashtray? He grinned. She playfully pounded his arm.

Dinner’s getting cold, Jeff, I called mockingly.

Evie rolled her eyes. I’ll be downstairs, she said, grabbing a pingpong paddle from a shelf on the basement stairs.

I’ll be down in a few. Jeff joined the family at the table. Muriel passed the rolls around and told Andy to pass me the butter.

The radio went on in the basement. Jeff and I started talking music. We’ve got a couple of new ones, Jeff said. Evie and I worked out ‘Rescue Me’ and I can do ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’. It’s from Bach. Have you heard it?

Yeah. That’s funny. I was just singing it today, driving up…

I trailed off, looking at Muriel. Sitting next to me, Doc helped himself to a roll. I continued, Man, that’s a blue song. A real downer. I love that song anyway. Tossing back my hair, I shoveled in peas.

How’s school? asked Jeff. My trig professor at Keene is a real redneck, like, his hair’s a quarter inch long— He stopped, noticing his father’s grey hair in a crewcut, like for the first time.

I prodded him. What about it, Jeff? I was getting in high spirits, laughing and making Jeff laugh. Doc was watching me narrowly, so I made an extra effort to please him.

My act was to be poised, even-tempered as a granite wall. I smiled and joked and never gave myself away. I made fun of everything. I could be sarcastic but I did it in a winning way, so even my worst taunts seemed innocent.

Andrew tossed a pea and caught it in his mouth, distracting everyone’s attention. Ma Chase spoke to Andy. When they all looked away, I stopped eating. My eyes fixed on a point in the lace table-cloth. I sighed through my teeth, letting the grief out.

I couldn’t act up when I was Andy’s age. There was only one way I could act that didn’t get me in trouble—agreeable. I knew I was in for it when I got home. Not that Dick hit me any more, but he could really get ugly.

Seeing the doctor looking at me, I smiled up at everyone again. After dinner, Jeff joined Evie to play pingpong and Doc asked me to come with him. I followed him across the sunken living room to his private den with walls of bookcases and deep carpeting. The big antique desk covered with medical papers took up the corner. Dr. Chase sat down behind it. I stood facing him.

The doctor came right to the point. Ben, why do you play around with drugs?

I stared with my mouth open.

Are you on something now?

What do you think? I set my elbows on the desk, putting my face right up to the doctor’s so our eyes met.

Ben, why? You used to be a good kid. You have changed. The older you got, the tougher you got. You act so numb. I guess I pouted and looked sullen. I hated these lectures. I’m not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself. And blah blah blah.

I straightened up and turned away, pretending to be interested in the books on the opposite wall. The doctor reviewed my faults: This drinking, these drugs. Do you know what you’re doing to your body? Your health is irreplaceable. These run-ins with the police, and your dissipation with girls. Do you know how notorious you are? No decent girl will go out with you.

Smoothing out my angry brow, I turned around. Vera’s decent, I argued, invoking the name of the cheerleading captain.

It’s you I’m concerned about. Let me help you.

What can you do? I asked impatiently.

Doc stood up from his desk. I’m sorry. I have failed you.

Somehow the doctor could always see through me. Even though to everyone else I might be influential, to James Chase I was a waste. He had known me since I was ten, and for some reason, expected more of me. I felt guilty. In my teenage years I had sunk pretty low, and now I was trying to do better.

You don’t need to apologize to me, Doc. He started for the door, but I grabbed his arm. Wait.

Doc sat down at his desk again, and I sat in an armchair. How many young people in town are involved with drugs?

It’s all over the place, I admitted.

How many?

A lot.

Where are they getting it?

Older kids. They get it at college or in the city.

I have a patient, a young girl. She’s been acting goofy, skipping school and having violent episodes, and her mother thinks she’s experimenting with pills and alcohol.

Anyone I know? I asked with a smooth face. I guessed he was thinking of Eveline.

You tell me. Have you got any suggestions?

I leaned back in the chair, one leg over the arm of it, swinging. I’d say that if her parents paid more attention to her, especially her father… And if her mother has diet pills, she shouldn’t leave them around. I smirked. I thought he was dumb for prescribing Evie’s mom those pills.

Dr. Chase said, Yes, those pills can be abused. I wouldn’t prescribe them myself.

I realized I never should have doubted him.

*     *     *

The drive had been plowed. It looked like a country road, a hollow between two rows of elm trees whose branches met overhead.

At the top, snow filled in the tracks of the Lincoln. It hadn’t quite made it to the garage. The headlights were on. Behind the car, a snow-covered mound lay across the tiretreads.

I shut off the headlights, and stared as the white mound emerged in human form and made an unmistakable groan. It was my father. Laying on the asphalt, out for the count.

I dropped down, shaking his shoulder. Oh, man, come on, wake up. I laughed with relief when the old man started to move around.

Lemme go, Dick grumbled. He raised his head, and wiped the snow off his face. He goes, Who… oo… s… it, with a burp in the middle, pushing at me with his hand.

It’s Ben, remember? We’ve met.

Don’t mouth off to me, ya bum. Dick tried to get up. Where you been all day?

Around. Where you been, celebrating? He was heavy but I hoisted him under the arms and half-carried him inside, holding open the door with my foot. My mother walked in from the living room. Taking off her reading glasses, she stared as I eased my dad into a chair. I helped him off with his overcoat, caked with snow.

Doubled over, Dick held his head in both hands. Get away from me, he growled. You don’t question me!

I don’t have to. I know the answer.

Dick lurched at me and I dodged. Walking into the kitchen, I hung his coat over a chair and grabbed some paper towels to wipe up the parquet floor in the foyer.

What happened? Penny asked us both.

He was passed out in the driveway, I told her. Her wide-set dark eyes were looking back at me.

Shut your goddam’ mouth. I slipped on the ice. Help me upstairs, will you Penny? He put his arm around her shoulders and she led him to the elevator.

I went into the living room and walked over to the tree, a twelve-footer. I looked at the old-fashioned ornaments my grand-mother had brought back from Italy, and spun a glass icicle. Nana Rose—she raised me, spoiled me, I guess. Yawning, I pulled my fingers through my hair to comb it. The fire was dying and I threw on some more logs. Burning sparks flew out.

I remembered a time before my father was a hopeless drunk—not hopeless, anyway. Christmas when I was thirteen. We had gone to the company party at the VFW.

Dick had been in a good mood that night. He talked to the musicians, and I met them all. They played Top 40 hits like High Time. I danced near the stage, doing some steps I had learned in New York the last time we flew there to see my grandparents.

Joe Hopkins brought the little woman over to introduce her to Dick. He thanked my dad for the Christmas bonus. It’s a swell party. I’d like you to meet my wife Anna. That was the first time I met the people who turned out to be Leda’s parents.

Dick mentioned that he was putting up a couple of Teamsters in a motel for the weekend, and Joe should get the wool from Scotland unloaded first thing Monday. Joe kowtowed to my dad like a lot of the guys that work for him.