Boys Life

I shrugged. “Whatever.”
    A hand grasped my shoulder from behind.
    I almost cried out. I came very close to it. As it was, I felt my face freeze as the blood left it.
    Dr. Lezander said, “An ambitious young man. Isn’t that right, Veronica?”
    “Yes, Frans.” She turned away from me and continued putting the groceries up.
    He released me. I looked at him. He obviously had just awakened; his eyes were sleep-swollen, the hairs had come out in a grizzle around his neatly trimmed chin beard, and he was wearing a red silk robe over pajamas. He yawned and stifled it with the same hand that had just been on my shoulder. “Coffee, please, dearest,” he said. “The blacker the better.”
    She began to spoon coffee into a cup that had the picture of a collie on it. Then, that task done, she turned on the hot water faucet.
    “I heard East Berlin this morning around four,” he told her. “A wonderful orchestra was playing Wagner.”
    Mrs. Lezander filled the collie cup full of steaming water and stirred it. She handed the ebony coffee to her husband, who first inhaled its aroma. “Ahhhhhh, yes!” he said. “This should do the trick!” He took a little slurpy sip. “Good and strong!” he said, satisfied.
    “I’d better be goin’ now.” I edged toward the back door. “Ben Sears and Johnny Wilson are waitin’ for me at the Lyric.”
    “I thought you wanted to ask me about an afternoon job.”
    “Well… I’d better go.”
    “Oh, nonsense.” He reached out again, and his hand found my shoulder. He had iron in his fingers. “I’d be pleased and happy to have you come by and help in the afternoons, Cory. As a matter of truth, I’ve been looking for a young apprentice.”
    “Really?” I didn’t know what else to say.
    “Really.” He smiled with his mouth. His eyes were careful. “You’re a smart young man, aren’t you?”
    “Sir?”
    “A smart young man. Oh, don’t be so modest! You pursue things, don’t you? You grip a fact and shake it like a… like a terrier.” His mouth smiled again, and the silver tooth sparkled. He took a longer sip of coffee.
    “I don’t know what you mean.” I heard my voice tremble, the slightest bit.
    “I admire that quality in you, Cory. The terrier determination to get to the root of things. That’s a fine quality for a boy to have.”
    “His bicycle’s outside, Frans,” Mrs. Lezander said as she put away packs of Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat.
    “Bring it in, will you?”
    “I’ve gotta go,” I said, and now the fear had started choking me.
    “Non”-he answered, smiling-“sense. If we have a freezing rain-and it certainly looks grim out there today-you don’t want that fine bicycle of yours to be covered with ice, do you?”
    “I… really have to-”
    “I’ll bring it in,” Mrs. Lezander said, and she went outside. I watched, Dr. Lezander’s hand on my shoulder, as the woman pushed Rocket across the threshold and into the den.
    “Very good,” Dr. Lezander said. He drank some more coffee. “Better safe than sorry, yes?”
    Mrs. Lezander returned, sucking her left thumb. She brought it from her mouth to show blood on it. “Look at this, Frans. I cut myself on his bicycle.” She said it with an almost clinical detachment. The thumb returned to her mouth. There was blood on her lower lip.
    “While you’re here, Cory, it seems to me you should see what your job would entail. Don’t you agree?”
    “Ben and Johnny… they’re gonna miss me,” I said.
    “Yes, they will, I’m sure. But they’ll go in and sit down and watch the film, won’t they? They’ll probably think”-he shrugged-“that something happened. Like things do to boys.” His fingers began to knead my shoulder. “What film is it?”
    “Hell Is for Heroes. It’s an army picture.”
    “Oh, an army picture. I expect it’s the conquering American heroes destroying the wretched German dogs, isn’t it?”
    “Frans,” Mrs. Lezander said quietly.
    A look passed between them, as hard and sharp as a dagger.
    Dr. Lezander’s attention returned to me. “Let’s go downstairs, Cory. All right?”
    “My mom’s gonna be worried,” I tried, but I knew it was no good.
    “But she believes you’re at the film, doesn’t she?” His eyebrows lifted. “Now, let’s go downstairs and see what I’m prepared to pay you twenty dollars a week to do.”
    My breath was stolen. “Twenty dollars?”
    “Yes. Twenty dollars a week for an able and understanding