Read The Man in the Window for Free Online Page B

drawing him close. “Louis, there’ll be people. All sorts of people.”
    “I know.”
    “You’re not used to it, honey.”
    “I know.”
    “Atlas wouldn’t mind. He really wouldn’t mind if you didn’t come. And neither would I. I’ll be fine.”
    “I’d like to ride in the car. And I’d like to go to Atlas’s funeral.”
    “Louis, why? It’s just so much.”
    He looked out the window at Jim Rose starting up the walk, then he looked beyond him as far as he could see, which was not far enough. “Gracie, I’ve tried all the windows. Even the tiny dormer in the attic. If there was a way I could see the cemetery from this house, I wouldn’t go.”
    “But Atlas would tell you the cemetery part doesn’t matter. It’s just a show for his friends, for the people he worked with. He’s already gone, Louis, and we’re just burying the shell.”
    The doorbell rang. Then Louis said, “I know he’s gone.” A movement in the air, a soft beating of wings, and he was gone. “I know. But if I go, I’ll believe I’ve forgiven him. If I can leave this house in daylight, for everyone to see, if I can do that, I’ll believe I loved him even when he turned away.”
    Gracie’s voice barely reached him. “He loved you.”
    “And now he’ll know that I loved him.”
    They held each other, then Louis said, “You sure, now?”
    She cocked her head.
    “You sure you can’t smell mothballs?”
    Gracie went downstairs and opened the door for Jim Rose. He was ready for her, getting his words out first. Louis heard him say, “Mrs. Malone, I know that transportation was not part of your original funeral package.”
    “That’s right, Mr. Jim Rose,” she said. “And if you think you can bamboozle—”
    “Someone has stepped in on your behalf, Mrs. Malone. Someone is satisfying all the financial aspects of this day, so that you may attend to more pressing emotional needs without hinderment.” He held out an envelope to her.
    “Hindrance,” said Louis, stepping into the foyer.
    Jim Rose, who had spent years perfecting his professional composure, that look of unflappable blankness, took a large step backwards and widened his eyes.
    Louis was pleased, because he was at least as nervous as Jim Rose, but he could see now it would go undetected.
    “Hello, Jim. Good to see you.” The scarf filtered the shakiness in his voice
    Jim Rose took a breath. “Louis. Good to see you.” The words were especially meaningless, since it was impossible to see anything of Louis but his eyes.
    The two men faced each other. The last time they had been together was in high school, the day before Louis’s accident, showering with the other boys after gym class. The usual chaos prevailed—towel-snapping fights, water skirmishes, tossing soap bars. But one boy didn’t join in the fun. Louis spotted Jim Rose scurrying toward his locker, not even bothering to dry off. He was hiding something, something just below his waist. Unfortunately, and of course inevitably, all the other boys spotted him, too. What had happened to Jim Rose was the one thing, that most dreaded of things, all boys pray will never happen while taking a shower with fifty other boys. It could have been any of them, and they were all so grateful it wasn’t, they decided to sacrifice Jim Rose to the gods. They immediately attacked, all except Louis and a few other decent souls, taunting him, pelting him with soap bars, snapping at his erection with their rat-tailed towels. Mr. Hollister, the gym teacher, finally broke it up, and then punished the victim, not the victimizers, giving Jim Rose an unprecedented twenty-five detentions. What especially enraged Mr. Hollister was that male sexual anatomy was not going to be taught in health class for another two weeks, and Jim Rose had obviously read ahead in the textbook. The boys added their own little punishment, giving him a nickname, substituting Dick for Jim, so that his name forever identified his sin: Dick Rose.
    Louis