Also Known as Elvis by James Howe Page A

there was no chance we’d get back together. But I was still kind of hoping we could be friends or something and I could be closer to you guys, spend more time together.”
    â€œIf you didn’t move so far away, we could’ve spent more time together,” I say, but so soft I’m not sure he hears me.
    We’re pulled up at a red light now, and he turns to look at me.
    â€œI miss our times together, kid. Look at you, you’re stuck in a house with three girls. And hey, I like Gerri—I mean, I love Gerri. But it’s not the same as . . . I miss my . . . you know what I’m trying to say here . . . I miss my son.”
    I have no clue what to say back. I don’t evenhave a clue what to feel. I wish the light would hurry up and change and he’d stop staring at me.
    When it does, I breathe out and he changes the subject. “Hey, I got an idea! Let’s go out to the music store at the mall. We can check out guitars. You want to?”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œHell, yeah!”
    â€œOkay. Sure.”
    He hangs a sharp right and we head out toward the mall. “There’s this store in Rochester not far from where we live,” he says. “They have amazing used guitars. We could get you a Fender Strat in good shape for maybe five, six hundred. What kind do you like?”
    I wonder how he could come up with five or six hundred bucks to buy me a guitar when he can’t even make support payments to my mom. But I shrug the thought off and tell him, “I’ve never even held one. How should I know?”
    â€œWell, you will by the time we’re done at the mall,” he says, almost as excited now as when hethought he saw Penny. “I hope the store’s still there. Hey, when you come to Rochester, I’ll take you to Bernunzio’s. You’ll be blown away. And Gerri can give you some lessons. She’s awesome. Wait’ll you hear her sing. Oh, man.”
    â€œSo that’s how you met? The band?”
    â€œNah, we met at work . . . well, actually, we met at this bar . . . but it was hearing her sing and play that sealed the deal for me. Hey, there it is. Strings ’n’ Things. It’s still there. Pathetic name for a store, but they’ve got a big selection. Or at least they did. Del and I used to come here to mess around back in the day.”
    So my dad and I check out guitars for two whole hours that go by like they’re fifteen minutes. I not only get to hold one, I get to try out a whole bunch of them. I even master a couple of power chord riffs, which is awesome. There’s this one Yamaha I really like, and it’s only a few hundred bucks. Yeah, I know: only. As if I could afford even that. But it’s still a whole lot cheaper than that used Strat my dad was talking about.
    The guy at the store says I’m a natural. I don’t know if I should believe him or not since, hey, it’s his job to sell guitars, right? But I think he figured out early on that we weren’t buying, so who knows, maybe I really am a natural. All I know is I’m having a good time. And I keep right on having a good time through lunch at KFC and six games out at Spare Time Lanes.
    After my dad drops me off at home (“See ya, Skeezo.” “See ya, Dad.”), I’m hardly through the door when my mom asks, “So did you two have your big man-to-man talk?”
    It’s the first time I’ve thought about it since this morning at Betty & Pauls. I’m not sure what to tell her. We never talked about sex or any stuff like that. We talked about missing Penny and playing drums and guitar. We ate fried chicken and bowled six games. And my dad said he missed his son.
    â€œYeah,” I say. “Yeah, we did.”

Can’t Help Falling in Love
    Here’s something weird. With Sunday being so slow at the Candy Kitchen and then having Monday and Tuesday