PAUL G. TREMBLAY
loud that he doesn’t hear or see or sense the man standing at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, kid, why so glum?” Right foot tapping up-tempo, hands jingling the change in his pockets, the stranger whistles a lilting melody. And laughs. *** An affluent neighborhood here and the wrong side of the tracks there. One high school boasting a rabidly populated PTA. Downtown with its barber shop, two salons, three restaurants, two banks, a hardware store, more trees than lampposts, one brand-spankin’-new mini-mall that was, of course, the sole reason behind the decline of western civilization according to the elder locals, and town hall with four prominently displayed American flags and flanked by the always green common. A particularly American small town. “Come on, now! Is there anywhere else you’d rather be?” He laughed after posing the question. Judi squinted, either shading her injured eyes from the bright mid-morning sun or the raw wattage of his smile. She said, “Anywhere else is exactly where I’d rather be.” She didn’t know why she had taken off her sunglasses and lumpy baseball hat for the weirdo sitting next to her on the bench. This oddball, this Cheshire-grinnin’-freak in an indigo-blue suit, leaned real close. More than likely, he was close enough to see the thick mat of foundation make-up that tried its darnedest to cover the purple, close enough to see red eyes that had cried for the better part of the morning, close enough that if Stephen had walked by, he’d probably beat her again, right there in the middle of the common. He fixed spotlight eyes and inhaled through his nose like he was smelling all the flowers in the common at once. “You know, you’re right. You and this place, just not a match, I guess. I bet you’d be happier, much happier somewhere else. And alone, too.” Judi watched the man swallow hard, like he had something caught in his throat, then the laugh . . . The laugh, the laugh, the laugh. As infectious as a baby’s smile. First, a soft giggle. Light, airy, a bit unsure, like a church laugh,