S Rozan - Absent Friends

So when Jack says, Let's get some beer, go out to Coleman Road, they all say, Yeah, sounds good. Since they were kids, this was a thing they did, hang out on the construction sites in the neighborhood. It makes them theirs. Jimmy sees it this way: you can't stop people from changing your world. There are too many people, and you never know what they're planning until it's too late. But what you can do, you can make the changes part of you. You can take changes inside you as though you're big and they're small. Instead of letting the changes be something that makes you choke, you can breathe them in.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

He doesn't say this to the others, and he's not sure they have the same reasons why they want to come out to the half-built houses and drink beer (instead of chasing each other around and throwing dirt bombs, that's what hanging out meant when they were kids). Sometimes-always, back then, but now just sometimes-the girls come with them; but mostly, like tonight, as though they'd talked to each other about it (they never have), they don't tell the girls where they're headed. Just, Me and the guys, we're going to have a couple beers.

Even Marian. Jimmy thinks she'd get it; at least, she'd get why he does it. But Marian doesn't hang out with Jack or Tom anymore. She never tells Jimmy not to, she never tells him what to do about anything unless he asks her what she thinks, and the funny thing is, he knows she still likes Tom, everyone does. And Jack, he always made Marian laugh, and Jimmy knows she misses Jack, misses laughing like that. But she doesn't hang out with them anymore.

Tonight it was Jack's idea, but he's been in a lousy mood the whole night. Markie seems a little weird, too, Jimmy can't put his finger on it. Jumpy maybe, and pretending like he's not.

That thing Markie was going to tell Jack about, the thing Mike the Bear asked Jimmy to help him out with that afternoon in Flanagan's, Markie says he told him.

What did he say? Jimmy asked Markie this last weekend, the two of them hammering asphalt shingles back onto the roof of the O'Neills' porch. Old man O'Neill, he can't do this stuff for himself anymore, and Jimmy and Markie don't have much else to do on a Saturday afternoon.

Bullshit, says Markie.

He said Bullshit?

Yeah.

What does he mean, bullshit? He doesn't think it's true?

Uh-uh. Markie leans way over for the bucket of nails that's by Jimmy. He slips, grabs, but gets nothing. He's about to slide, he's headed right for the edge of the roof, but Jimmy's got his foot braced against the tree that leans on the porch, and he grabs Markie, pulls him, and then Markie sticks his foot out against the tree, too.

Jesus Christ, man. Jimmy breathes, waits for his heart to stop kicking his chest. Jesus Christ. You come over here, let me do that part, says Jimmy. Markie grins as he and Jimmy crawl over each other on the roof, so Markie's near the tree.

Jimmy grabs a handful of nails on the way, drops them in his shirt pocket so he doesn't have to lean over for the bucket. He sticks four in his mouth for the first shingle on that side, takes them out one by one, and hammers them in. He waits till he's done before he says, You're telling me Jack doesn't buy it? He doesn't believe it, that the cops are closing in?

I didn't know what the hell else to say, says Markie. I told him. I said man, they're coming to roll you up, Jack, man, you gotta cool it, you gotta be Mr. Clean. He wanted to know where I got it. I said I heard it around. He said, Bullshit. He said, Stuff like that, if it's true, you don't hear it around.

Hmmm. Jimmy's got nails in his mouth again, so he just grunts, pushes hard on a shingle that's supposed to slip under the next one but it doesn't want to go where it belongs. When he finally gets it in and hammered down, he says, Could be he's right about that.

Well, what the hell, where did you hear it? That's what you told me, you heard it around.

Yeah, well, says Jimmy. He isn't sure he wants to say to Markie, Mike the Bear told me, me and him had a drink at Flanagan's and he asked me for help. That seems wrong, Jimmy telling Big Mike's secret: that he'd come up against something he couldn't take care of on his own. Jimmy's thinking what to say when Sally calls from down in the yard, do they want a Coke or something?

We're almost done, shouts Jimmy.

Markie says, Yeah, Jimmy, man, can you give me a hand with this one? Jimmy pulls himself over to where Markie is, and they wrestle the last couple of shingles together.

Now they're sitting, all four of them, on rough plywood sheets in a spill of moonlight under the outline of a roof that'll be getting its own shingles soon. Jack's drinking more than everyone else, and he's talking louder when he talks, but mostly he's quiet.

Just to be saying something, because usually he likes quiet, but this is a kind he doesn't, Jimmy says, I heard they're putting up a subdivision over on Fitzgerald, too, soon. Condos, that's what I heard.

Tom nods, like he knows Jimmy's right, but Jack says, Bullshit. He says, I'm tired of people hearing shit, it's all bullshit. Markie looks real quick at Jack, and then away, but Jack is watching Markie. People hear shit, says Jack. People tell other people. Fucks everyone up, it's all a pile of crap.

Tom says, Fuck, Jack, why don't you yell a little more, I don't think you woke up those people across the street yet.

Jimmy peers into the dark. A faraway streetlight shows where across the street is, where the finished houses are, with people in them. Not so easy to wake those people up from here, he thinks, we might as well be off in the woods. But he doesn't say it, because it would be okay with him if Jack stopped yelling.

Listen, you guys, says Tom. It's too hot out here, let's go get a nightcap at the Bird before last call.

He stands and brushes off his jeans. Jimmy puts his beer can down, but Markie and Jack aren't moving.

People hear shit, Jack says, it's because someone else told them.

Tom says, What the hell's your problem tonight?

Tom's glaring down at Jack.

My problem? And now Jack jumps up, too, faster than Jimmy thought he could, as much as he had to drink. My problem is this asshole is telling me bullshit. He's trying to scare me, how about that shit? Puny Markie Keegan's trying to scare the crap out of Jack Molloy.

Jack laughs, but not like something's funny, says, What the fuck, Markie? You think you can scare me because of some made-up crap? You think that?

It's what I heard, Markie says, spreading his hands, and at the same time Tom says, What are you talking about?

You cocksucker, says Jack, I swear to God, Markie, you piss me off, who told you to feed me that bullshit?

Markie starts, No one told me.

But he can't finish because Jack's yelling: Fuck, Markie, fuck! Who're you working for?

Working for? Markie repeats the words like he's amazed Jack said them, like when they were kids and Jack said something so dirty the rest of them wouldn't dare even try it; except Markie, Markie always used to try. He says, Hey, Jack.

What bullshit? Tom says in a low voice, each word crammed with dynamite. Jack swings around to stare at Tom. Jimmy thinks for a second about standing up like they are; instead he inches a little closer across the plywood to where Markie's sitting.

Jack says, You want to know what bullshit?

Jack's glaring at Tom, swaying a little to keep his balance. Like he's on a ship, thinks Jimmy. Or like the wind's blowing only where he is.

You want to know what bullshit? Okay, says Jack, I'll tell you. This asshole-he points at Markie-he's been telling me the cops have all this bullshit. Operation Jack or some damn shit, files on me and evidence up their buttholes and if I don't lay off they'll throw me in the fucking can. That's what bullshit.