With Count's log in hand, Shannie running back and forth to Atlantic City, and Steve Lucas obsessed with his sister's racks, I had a lot of time to kill, and no one to kill it with - a perfect recipe for slipping from a well-worn grove into a deep rut.
Shannie occasionally asked if I wanted to spend a weekend in Atlantic City. I found excuses not to go. It was less stressful laying in bed listening to the rumble of distant freight trains than spending time with Genise. The only positive about Genise was Beetle was an afterthought. I so despised Genise that I told Shannie, "don't invite me to Atlantic City unless we can play Cowboys and Indians. Put Genise and me in the same room, one of us is going to loose their scalp. And it ain't going to be me."
"You know, Genise likes you. Give her a chance."
"She has a funny way of showing it."
Later that night I sat in my perch watching a thunderstorm. I opened the window and stuck my head into the driving rain. Fresh air pierced my lungs. Lightning illuminated Fernwood, I laughed watching the wind whip trees and the rain pelt tombstones. I laughed so hard I cried; I cried for Count. I cried that I again lost Shannie. I cried that I was alone. I cried because I would always be alone. I cried so hard that I got pissed!
I ran into the stormy night. I crossed our yards and pounded on the Ortolan's front door. My hair - which hadn't been cut since Count's funeral - hung soaked and matted over my bare shoulders.
"James! Everything Okay?" Diane asked.
"Where's Shannie?" I asked.
"Come on in." On the landing Diane gave me a once-over. "Are you high?"
"No!" I didn't think Diane knew I smoked pot. I started after burying Count.
"Your eyes are bloodshot!
"I've been crying."
Diane eyed me with skepticism "Don't lie to me."
"I don't touch the stuff," I lied.
"Tell me, what do I smell at night?"
"Incense."
"Jesus James, at least you could be original. Been there, done that. You can't shit me." Behind us, Shannie walked into the kitchen.
"I'm not high. I'm upset. I need to talk to Shannie."
"Listen, and listen good," Diane said in a deliberate whisper. "Keep it away from her. Okay? I don't want to have to hurt you." She stepped back and ran her eyes over me. Shaking her head, Diane continued: "What happened to you James? You're on a one-way trip down."