the memory.
“Okay, you can’t keep that to yourself. What?”
“Just kid stuff.” He wiped his mouth and pushed away his empty bowl. “You know that little cement bridge that turns off the highway north of town, a mile or so before it heads up the mountain?”
“I—think so.”
“No side rails, just raised curbing at the sides. You might not even think of it being a bridge. Bottomland pasture on both sides of the road, with a little creek.”
I nodded.
“Some of us were out one night, after a football game or some such. Telling ghost stories. Must’a been near Halloween. We drove across the bridge and stopped to see if we could hear the baby crying.” He shook his head, smiling at the memory. “Ol’ Campbelldecided he’d impress his girlfriend, so he got out to walk back across it.”
“What baby?”
“You never heard tell of the crybaby? Suppose to hear a baby crying if you walk across the bridge at midnight under a full moon.” He snorted.
“I take it you didn’t hear any crying.”
“Only crying I heard was that dumbass Campbell.” He smiled broadly. “Jennie Lee was sitting in the front seat of that old Plymouth I used to have. I got out to watch Campbell, she slid over in the driver’s seat and put that sucker in gear. I barely got the back door open. She was moving when I jumped in. But not before I heard it.”
He laughed out loud, one of his contagious belly laughs.
“Not the baby,” I said.
“Naw. Campbell. Screaming like a girl. He must’a run a good half mile, chasing us and yelling before she stopped the car.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes had teared up. “We saw a ghost, all right. Campbell was white as a sheet.”
I shook my head. High school pranks, whether five years ago, fifteen, or fifty, whether funny or frightening or angst-ridden, always have an intensity about them that survives. Our own little ghosts that haunt us.
“I remember that car,” I said. A twenty-year-old hand-me-down from his grandmother, that car had been lavished with most of Rudy’s money and affection. The rest he’d reserved exclusively for Jennie Lee, a well-endowed, sweet little girl.
I realized how little I knew about Rudy’s private life. We hadn’t been close friends in high school, so I hadn’t gotten regular reports over the years from my family. When I’d come back to Dacus seven months ago, we’d renewed our acquaintance because both of us spent way too much time eating at Maylene’s, butthat’s where it stayed. He wore a wedding ring, but I knew little else about his life away from his chief deputy job. Rudy was like most guys I’d worked with over the years, able to compartmentalize. Then again, I didn’t talk about my personal life, either.
“Did you and Jennie Lee get married, even though she tried to steal your car?” As soon as I asked, I knew I’d gotten it wrong.
A cloud passed over his expression. “Naw. That was a high school thing.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t probe further. It might not be a fresh wound, but it looked like it still hurt. High school pranks weren’t the only things that created an energy that didn’t dissipate much over time.
“Reckon I better get going,” Rudy said, slipping the checks out from under the bread basket and handing mine to me.
As we stepped out on the sidewalk, I heard a familiar buzzing sound, like a swarm of angry flies. Donlee Griggs zizzed down the opposite side of Main Street on the scooter he’d acquired a few months earlier—about the same time he’d acquired the tiny girlfriend whose matching round pumpkin-orange helmet mashed into the small of his back as she held on for dear life.
Another poignant trip down memory lane. While Rudy had dated cute girls like Jennie Lee in high school, I was attracting the likes of gigantic, slow-witted Donlee. The crush he had on me had resurrected itself when I’d helped him out pro bono on a drunk-and-disorderly charge back in November, but
“Okay, you can’t keep that to yourself. What?”
“Just kid stuff.” He wiped his mouth and pushed away his empty bowl. “You know that little cement bridge that turns off the highway north of town, a mile or so before it heads up the mountain?”
“I—think so.”
“No side rails, just raised curbing at the sides. You might not even think of it being a bridge. Bottomland pasture on both sides of the road, with a little creek.”
I nodded.
“Some of us were out one night, after a football game or some such. Telling ghost stories. Must’a been near Halloween. We drove across the bridge and stopped to see if we could hear the baby crying.” He shook his head, smiling at the memory. “Ol’ Campbelldecided he’d impress his girlfriend, so he got out to walk back across it.”
“What baby?”
“You never heard tell of the crybaby? Suppose to hear a baby crying if you walk across the bridge at midnight under a full moon.” He snorted.
“I take it you didn’t hear any crying.”
“Only crying I heard was that dumbass Campbell.” He smiled broadly. “Jennie Lee was sitting in the front seat of that old Plymouth I used to have. I got out to watch Campbell, she slid over in the driver’s seat and put that sucker in gear. I barely got the back door open. She was moving when I jumped in. But not before I heard it.”
He laughed out loud, one of his contagious belly laughs.
“Not the baby,” I said.
“Naw. Campbell. Screaming like a girl. He must’a run a good half mile, chasing us and yelling before she stopped the car.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes had teared up. “We saw a ghost, all right. Campbell was white as a sheet.”
I shook my head. High school pranks, whether five years ago, fifteen, or fifty, whether funny or frightening or angst-ridden, always have an intensity about them that survives. Our own little ghosts that haunt us.
“I remember that car,” I said. A twenty-year-old hand-me-down from his grandmother, that car had been lavished with most of Rudy’s money and affection. The rest he’d reserved exclusively for Jennie Lee, a well-endowed, sweet little girl.
I realized how little I knew about Rudy’s private life. We hadn’t been close friends in high school, so I hadn’t gotten regular reports over the years from my family. When I’d come back to Dacus seven months ago, we’d renewed our acquaintance because both of us spent way too much time eating at Maylene’s, butthat’s where it stayed. He wore a wedding ring, but I knew little else about his life away from his chief deputy job. Rudy was like most guys I’d worked with over the years, able to compartmentalize. Then again, I didn’t talk about my personal life, either.
“Did you and Jennie Lee get married, even though she tried to steal your car?” As soon as I asked, I knew I’d gotten it wrong.
A cloud passed over his expression. “Naw. That was a high school thing.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t probe further. It might not be a fresh wound, but it looked like it still hurt. High school pranks weren’t the only things that created an energy that didn’t dissipate much over time.
“Reckon I better get going,” Rudy said, slipping the checks out from under the bread basket and handing mine to me.
As we stepped out on the sidewalk, I heard a familiar buzzing sound, like a swarm of angry flies. Donlee Griggs zizzed down the opposite side of Main Street on the scooter he’d acquired a few months earlier—about the same time he’d acquired the tiny girlfriend whose matching round pumpkin-orange helmet mashed into the small of his back as she held on for dear life.
Another poignant trip down memory lane. While Rudy had dated cute girls like Jennie Lee in high school, I was attracting the likes of gigantic, slow-witted Donlee. The crush he had on me had resurrected itself when I’d helped him out pro bono on a drunk-and-disorderly charge back in November, but
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