As Shannie crossed the intersection, I cried, "That's your house. I remember! I fucking remember! My house, it's, it's right next to yours on that side of the street!" I pointed to our left. "There it is!" I jumped up and down in my seat as the old Dutch Colonial came into view. Shannie downshifted as she guided the GTI over the curb cut and to a rest in the driveway.
"Welcome home Just James," Shannie said - her smile all things bittersweet.
I struggled with the seatbelt before freeing myself. Climbing out of the GTI I was greeted by the echo of the freight train's horn. I looked all around, barely able to contain myself. Across Shannie's yard, past the line of trees the tombstones in Fernwood stood at attention. Even the sky, glorious in its raw, damp grayness welcomed me home.
"Where are you going?" Shannie called after me as I waddled towards my house. From inside, a chorus of ecstatic barks cried out. I waddled faster.
"Your dad's at work; no one's home," Shannie's voice bled through Ellie's barks.
"Silly Shannie," I smiled over my shoulder. "I am."
Inside, Ellie, whom for the longest while I insisted on calling Elsie, greeted me by jumping up and knocking me over. Ellie tried drowning me with her slobber as she licked my face. "GEEZUS PETE!" Shannie screamed seeing me supine on the floor. "Are you okay? ELLIE, STOP IT! COME ON, GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
"It's okay," I laughed.
"No it's not! You're hurt. You can't be rough housing."
"Who's rough housing?" I hugged my other favorite blonde.
"Stop it," Shannie grabbed Ellie's collar and pulled her away. Ellie wheeled up on her hind legs from the force of Shannie's tug. Women - they don't understand the love between a boy and his dog.
***
"What his name?" I asked Shannie. I was sitting in my perch watching the stationary parade of tombstones. Each row aligned like a well-honed marching band.
"Whose name?" Shannie asked from my bed where she sat Indian style flipping through a magazine.
"The big kid," I said tapping a finger against the windowpane, its hollow rap knocking on the door of concealed memories. "You know, the kid who lived in the house on the cemetery. I think his name was Larry Lighter or something like that."
"Leroy Lightman," Shannie answered.
I stared across the cemetery at the old converted church.