Free The City Below by James Carroll Page B

them, the ones you saw."
    "Are they friends of yours?"
    "Not really ... Well, one is. Bright McKay."
    "Which one is he?"
    "He's another BC guy."
    "Does he know ... ?" She glanced toward the street, then let her eyes settle on Terry's. "You told me something last spring that I didn't forget."
    "What?"
    "That you weren't so sure about the priesthood anymore, and then, the next thing I hear, you're going to BC instead of the seminary. I mean, I was amazed, Terry, that somebody I knew would actually do something about his life."
    "Talking to you that day helped me make up my mind."
    "Not that I would have known that."
    "I would have told you, but—"
    "But your mother told my mother that you're still going in the sem, only later, after a couple of years at BC. That's what you said you might do. So you're still going to be a priest"
    "I wouldn't, I mean ..." He felt humiliated that she should have glimpsed his confusion, and cowardice. There was no question of his having told his mother the truth, but had he told it to himself? He'd thought his new fever for politics would have released him from the curse of the priesthood, but in some ways it was worse. Doyle's deepest wish was to be like John Kennedy, but how was that remotely possible for a boy like him? A new image of the priesthood was half formed in his mind, one that had less to do with the parish biddies of Charlestown—it appalled him to think of the mothers discussing his vocation—or even with the brilliant Jesuits, than with the as yet ill-defined joining of the moral and political purposes he associated with Senator Kennedy. Something special: he was called to something special, he just did not know what. Christ, couldn't they leave him alone? Couldn't she? Didi was giving him the feeling he always had at home, and he hated it.
    "I'm just trying to get things straight about you, Terry. That's all."
    "What things?"
    "Why you came to get me today."
    "Because we needed you."
    "That's it?"
    "Yes," he said coldly, "that's it."
    "Okay, Charlie." She pushed through the revolving doors into the lobby of the hotel. When he followed, she kept going, but said over her shoulder, "Where is this joint?"
    "Straight ahead."
    She began to walk like Charlie Chaplin, twirling a make-believe cane, her head jerking, her feet pointed to the side with each step. The bitch.
    The Young Dems had pushed into the usual crescent-shaped booth at the far side of the bar. The Grill Room was crowded, but there were a pair of empty chairs nearby, and Ed Lake pulled them up.
    "I'm glad you came," he said.
    Didi shook his hand. Terry realized she had no idea what a prick he was.
    All of the kids greeted her with special warmth. McKay wasn't there, but Terry saw his lighter on a Luckies pack at a vacant place.
    Once they'd sat, Doyle announced, "We just met Ted."
    "No shit," a Northeastern kid named Mark Sanger said, his tone dismissive and envious at once.
    "He was very nice," Didi said, and even she sensed that she had just passed some of them, moving closer to the center.
    Terry found Ed Lake's eye. "Ken O'Donnell put Didi on the team."
    "Well, good for you." Lake picked up the beer pitcher and poured for Didi. "Good for us." He seemed to mean it.
    "Chugalug!" Sanger cried. "We were just about to go." He hoisted his glass, as did two other boys, none of the girls. "Ready?"
    Lake finished pouring, but Terry didn't touch his beer.
    "Set?"
    Suddenly Didi lifted her glass to hold it in front of her nose.
    Terry almost leaned over to whisper, You don't have to ...
    Sanger yelled, "Go!"
    Three boys and Didi upended their glasses at their mouths. The beer flowed into gullets. When Didi banged her empty glass down, she was a perceptible instant ahead of the others.
    Lake's arm shot toward her. "Winner!"
    The others pounded the table, hooting.
    "What else are you fastest at?" one of the debs asked coyly.
    Didi was ashen-faced as she tried to get air into her throat. She pressed her hand against her chest, in