“Mom and Dad have matches in the medicine cabinet,” Bryce said. He left the
living room as Henry sat down on the couch. A clock on the wall ticked
loudly behind him, and he could hear a radio playing oldies in the garage.
Bryce came back and waved Henry up. They snuck out the back door of the
kitchen and walked across a patio to a grill under a tree along the rear wall of
the house. The grill’s cover lay in a heap to one side. Bryce handed Henry the
picture and matches and ran around the house to check on his father. Henry
felt better without Justin around. He liked how Bryce spoke to him directly
when they were alone. He liked how Bryce laughed at his jokes.
When Bryce returned, he lifted up the lid of the grill and took the picture
from Henry. Bryce unfolded it and set it down on the metal rack, where it lay
open and creased at its folds. Henry clasped his hands together, nudged
Bryce with his elbow until Bryce copied him, and said, “We come here today
to say goodbye to this naked lady named Jenny McCarthy.”
Bryce started snickering, and Henry went on, “We’re all going to miss looking
at her, and her big ole jugs.” Bryce cracked up. “Except for Mr. Willis, who’s
probably never even seen a naked lady before.”
“What a lame-o,” Bryce said, and Henry felt a rush of confidence.
“Is there anything you’d like to say, Bryce?” Henry asked.
“Yes,” Bryce said, joining in the game and quickly bringing himself near to
tears. “I-I-I,” he stuttered. “I would just like to say, ‘Goodbye, my darling!
And goodbye to your big bazongas!’” Henry fell down laughing, and Bryce
hollered, “Your big bazooka bazongas!”
Henry picked some clover blossoms from the grass and stood up and laid one
on each of JM’s breasts. Bryce pulled out a match and started flicking it on the
box. He tried twice before the head flew off. “Damnit,” he said, and he threw
the spoiled match into a metal pail near the grill. “You try.” Bryce handed the
matchbox to Henry.