Bentley Little: The Association

But Maureen was with them throughout the rest of the day, carrying the smaller boxes, jumping into the back of the truck to decide what would go into the house and what would go into storage, directing them where to put what.

They made an effort to put the bigger items in their permanent places, but the rest of the stuff they simply piled against various walls, making sure there were still walk able pathways as the piles grew out into the centers of the rooms. The leftover furniture that had come with die house was shoved into the two small bedrooms. It would be sold at a garage sale eventually, and whatever didn't sell would be donated to Goodwill or Salvation Army or whatever thrift store they had in this town. Maureen told Dylan, Chuck, and Jeremy that if there was anything they wanted, they should feel free to take it.

The remaining boxes and furniture they took to the storage unit Barry had rented in town. Maureen stayed home since there wasn't enough room in the truck cab for all of them. A sour old man in a Deer-o paint cap let them in the gate of the storage facility, and they pulled the truck in front of the dented metal door marked space 21, unloading everything fairly quickly. As Barry closed and locked the door, he could feel a dull soreness in his leg and arm muscles that he knew would explode into full fledged pain by tomorrow. It had been a long time since he'd done any heavy manual labor, and between last week's packing and today's unloading, his neck and back already hurt.

"Miller time!" Jeremy announced. He'd brought his ice chest, placing it by his feet in the cab, and he reached up and opened it, then started tossing out beers.

Barry popped open the can he caught and took a long swig. The four of them stood in front of the storage unit, drinking, celebrating the end of a long and tiring day.

Chuck looked around at the surrounding scenery. "Why Utah?" he asked Barry. "I mean, it's beautiful and all, but, shit, it's so far away from everything. What are you going to do out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"The same thing I did back in California: write."

"You know what I mean."

Barry shrugged. "I never did all that much to begin with. I mean, hell, a big night out for us is dinner and a movie."

"But there's no movie theater here." "There's a video store. And we can always drive over to Cedar City if we have to. It's only two hours away and it has movie theaters, a college, a Shakespeare festival, pretty much anything you could want." He finished downing the last of his beer. "But that's small stuff, that's not important. The reason we're out here is because this is where we want to live, this is the type of environment we want to spend the rest of our lives in. We're not getting any younger, you know. It's time to start talking permanence, it's time to start setting down some roots."

"Your roots are in California."

"We want a transplant."

Jeremy shuffled his feet awkwardly. "How are you guys set for money?

Your books pulling in enough?"

"Yeah. AndMo'll be working, too."

Dylan snorted. "In this town? Where, the gas station?"

"She can pretty much hang out her shingle anywhere and get tax work.

And a lot of her old clients are staying with her, so she won't exactly have to start from scratch."

"Staying with her? How's that? They're going to drive through three states just for an accountant? I know she's good, but..."

"Fax. E-mail. Telephone. She doesn't have to actually meet with her clients to get their financial information." He grinned. "It's the age of the tele commuter dude. Get with the program."

Chuck shook his head. "You really think you're going to like living in a small town?"

Barry laughed. "It's the yuppie dream."

They had dinner that night at a steakhouse in Corban where they were the only customers and the waitress looked like Flo from the old TV

series Alice. They drank a lot and talked politics and culture, Maureen admonishing Jeremy and Chuck for abandoning their wives at home and depriving her of some much-needed female allies.

Back at home, they tried to figure out the sleeping arrangements. The old beds had been dismantled, and only their bed in the master bedroom had been set up. It was decided that Dylan, Chuck, and Jeremy would sleep on the floor in the dining room area--the only part of the house that wasn't completely overrun with unpacked junk.

Jeremy, always prepared, had brought along a sleeping bag, but Chuck and Dylan hadn't, and they spent twenty minutes pushing cartons and furniture aside, digging through boxes looking for blankets and pillows.

"Sleep tight," Maureen said after they were all settled. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Are there bed bugs here?" Chuck asked.

"We don't know -what kind of critters there are," Maureen said cheerfully. "Good night."

"You're vicious," Barry told her as they walked down to the master bedroom. "Vicious."

In the morning, he was awakened by the sounds of movement from upstairs. He got out of bed without waking Maureen, quickly slipped on his jeans, and went up to the dining room, where Jeremy was rolling up his sleeping bag, and Chuck and Dylan were putting on their shoes.

Barry yawned, looking toward the kitchen. "I'm sorry we don't have any breakfast for you. I should've gone to the store yesterday and picked up some doughnuts or bagels or something."

Jeremy waved him away. "Don't worry about it. We'll grab something to eat on the road. We have a long trip today, and we need to get started early anyway."

It occurred to Barry for the first time that it might be a while before he had a chance to see his friends again. He felt sad all of a sudden, but it was a strange sadness, one tempered by a sense that though his old life was over, a new one was beginning.

"You guys want to take a shower or something first?"

Chuck shook his head, grinning. "No reason to. It's just us."

Jeremy picked up his sleeping bag. "Say good-bye to Mo."

"Say good-bye yourselves."

Barry turned around to see Maureen standing at the bottom of the stairs, bundled up in her bathrobe.

"Bastard," she said with a smile. "You weren't even going to wake me up."

"Sorry."

She stepped aside while Jeremy, Chuck, and Dylan walked down the steps to the living room. "See you guys," she said. "Thanks so much for all your help. We really appreciate it."

"No problem," Jeremy told her.

"You're welcome to come and visit anytime." She smiled. "Even you, Dylan."

He laughed. "A little out of the way for me, but thanks. It's the thought that counts."

"You got everything?" Barry asked.

"Didn't bring anything in," Chuck said. "It's still in the van."

Barry followed Jeremy, Chuck, and Dylan outside, while Maureen remained in the doorway. "Good-bye!" she called. "Have a safe trip! Drive carefully!"

"Always do," Dylan said.

"You planning to drive all the way back to Brea today?" Barry asked.

Dylan shook his head. "I think we're going to take an extra day. I

want to stop off in Vegas on our way back. Pull a Willie Nelson."

"Electric Horseman”

Dylan grinned. "You got it."

Barry reached into the right front pocket of his jeans, found the wadded five that he'd shoved in there after getting the change from dinner last night. "Well, while you're kicking back, why don't you actually play some of that Keno. I'll split the take with you."

"Deal."

Jeremy tossed his sleeping bag in the back of the van and closed the tailgate. None of them were buggers or touchy feely kinds of guys, but this seemed to call for more than a mere wave and a quick "Good-bye,"

and they stood around awkwardly, not ready to part but not willing to make that leap and share a genuinely emotional moment.

"Well," Chuck said, shuffling his feet, "I guess we'd better shove off."