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knowledge that if he did; Wendy would leave him at last; and take Danny with
her。 He would be dead from the day they left。
Instead of going into the bar; where dark shadows sat sampling the tasty
waters of oblivion; he had gone to Al Shockleys house。 The Boards vote had
been six to one。 Al had been the one。
Now he dialed the operator and she told him that for a dollar eighty…five he
could be put in touch with Al two thousand miles away for three minutes。 Time is
relative; baby; he thought; and stuck in eight quarters。 Faintly he could hear
the electronic boops and beeps of his connection sniffing its way eastward。
Als father had been Arthur Longley Shockley; the steel baron。 He had left his
only son; Albert; a fortune and a huge range of investments and directorships
and chairs on various boards。 One of these had been on the Board of Directors
for Stovington Preparatory Academy; the old mans favorite charity。 Both Arthur
and Albert Shockley were alumni and Al lived in Barre; close enough to take a
personal interest in the schools affairs。 For several years Al had been
Stovingtons tennis coach。
Jack and Al had bee friends in a pletely natural and uncoincidental way:
at the many school and faculty functions they attended together; they were
always the two drunkest people there。 Shockley was separated from his wife; and
Jacks own marriage was skidding slowly downhill; although he still loved Wendy
and had promised sincerely (and frequently) to reform; for her sake and for baby
Dannys。
The two of them went on from many faculty parties; hitting the bars until they
closed; then stopping at some mom n pop) store for a case of beer they would
drink parked at the end of some back road。 There were mornings when Jack would
stumble into their leased house with dawn seeping into the sky and find Wendy
and the baby asleep on the couch; Danny always on the inside; a tiny fist curled
under the shelf of Wendys jaw。 He would look at them and the self…loathing
would back up his throat in a bitter wave; even stronger than the taste of beer
and cigarettes and martinis — martians; as Al called them。 Those were the times
that his mind would turn thoughtfully and sanely to the gun or the rope or the
razor blade。
If the bender had occurred on a weeknight; he would sleep for three hours; get
up; dress; chew four Excedrins; and go off to teach his nine oclock American
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