Dan Wakefield - Under the Apple Tree - A Novel

He took a deep breath and started walking out of the woods when he heard the sound and stopped.

It was Roy, laughing.

It was scary.

The laugh was the harsh, croaked, bitter kind that Artie was used to hearing from Roy all the time since he came home from War, but this time it was worse, like it came from way down inside him and was being yanked out like a part of his guts. It was almost crazy, and Artie wondered if maybe Roy really had cracked, and might do something terrible.

To Shirley.

“Forgive me, God,” Artie whispered.

Then he turned and got down on all fours and started crawling toward the high rise of ground that gave a view of the rock. The smell of dead leaves, like an odor of fear, filled his head. When he got to the rise he stopped without crawling up to look. At least he wouldn’t break that part of his pledge. He would only listen.

The horrible, wrenching laugh came again, and then Roy was shouting.

“I surrender! You win! The dumb vet fell for the trick! Oh, brother—if the old platoon could see me now! Ambushed by a kid and a broad!”

“Will you listen to me, please?” Shirley said real calmly.

“You got a speech? Go ahead—deliver! ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen—lend me your beers.’”

Then the awful laugh again.

Finally it stopped, and turned to racked coughing, and then there was quiet.

“I don’t have any speech,” Shirley said quietly. “I really just have one thing to say. I hope you can hear me.”

“I may be dumb, but I’m not deaf.”

A wind came up, stirring dead leaves. Then the woods were silent.

“I love you, Roy Garber.”

“Love!” Roy bellowed. “Oh, good, just great! I am melting, look, I am melting into a little pool of butter, just like Little Black Sambo, that’s all I’ll be, a little pool of butter on the ground.”

“You’re afraid,” she said. “You’re a coward.”

“Now, you listen to me , little lady. I may be a lot of things, I may be no-good and worthless and a goddamn drunk, but I did not get the Purple Heart and a game leg by being a coward.”

“I know you’re not afraid of dying,” she said.

“So what am I afraid of? You?”

“Yes, I hurt you.”

“I managed to survive, thank you, ma’am.”

“So did I.”

“You want the Purple Heart, too, or something?”

“I want you. I need you. And you need me even worse.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

“I don’t. I’m a coward, too. But I’m a loner. I can make it by myself. I have. I don’t think you can. Not very well, anyway.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I’m sorry if the truth hurts.”

“So what if it’s true? So what if I’m not a loner? You think you’re the only fish in the sea?”

“No. But I’m the best one for you.”

“You have really got some gall, sister.”

“I hope so. Anyway, you don’t want a girl who’s like you. I’m your opposite. That’s what you need.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, it does. We fit together.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, let me tell you something. I been with a lot of women. ‘All cats are alike in the dark.’”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Us. We could have a life together.”

“Like I said before. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

“You’re afraid. You know that, don’t you?”

“Get off my back.”

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea for me, too.”

“So why don’t you go fishing? Hell, you’ll be up at Urbana in a couple of months, you can hook a real world-beater. Some Whiz Kid who’ll make a mint. Restore the family fortunes, make your folks happy.”

“I want you .”

“Why? Is it a challenge or something? Save the no-good kid who has no future?”

“See? You’re afraid. You’re not just afraid of me, either. You’re afraid of just about everything but bullets. And death. Those are easy. Am I right?”

“You bitch. You goddamn bitch.”

Roy started crying. It was soft at first, like a baby, and then it grew into sobs, and then yelps, like a wounded animal. Then it died down, then stopped.

“I love you, Roy.”

Artie held his breath in the silence that followed, praying without any words. Then Roy’s voice came, different now, low but clear, with a steady, simple calmness to it.

“Help me,” he said.

It was quiet again, and Artie started to crawl up to where he could peek, but then he remembered he was not a kid anymore. With stern determination he turned away, stealthily crawling on all fours, moving as quietly as possible over the matted leaves till he came to the path. Then he stood up and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh, bracing air, and ran toward home, leaping and bounding, stretching his arms to the limitless sky. He did not look back.

Dan Wakefield (b. 1932) is the author of the bestselling novels Going All the Way and Starting Over , which were both adapted into feature films. His memoirs include New York in the Fifties , which was made into a documentary film of the same name, and Returning: A Spiritual Journey , praised by Bill Moyers as “one of the most important memoirs of the spirit I have ever read.” Wakefield created the NBC prime time series James at 15 , and wrote the screenplay for Going All the Way , starring Ben Affleck. He edited and wrote the introduction for Kurt Vonnegut Letters as well as If This Isn’t Nice, What Is?: Vonnegut’s Advice to the Young . Visit Wakefield online at www.danwakefield.com and www.vonnegutsoldestlivingfriend.com.

FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA