Adultery & Other Choices by Andre Dubus Read Free Book Online

rode home on his bicycle while Larry waited in front of school for the bus. One April afternoon he and Eddie walked across the front lawn of the school, Paul glancing at the boys waiting for school buses; he did not see Larry; they walked past the group and into town, to Borden’s. When they got back to school licking their ice-cream cones the buses had come and the boys were gone and Larry was on the sidewalk, crouched beside his bicycle, twisting a broken spoke around one that was intact. Paul quickened his pace but Larry saw their legs and looked up. Then he stood. Paul kept looking at the bicycle. It was green and had been thickly repainted, by hand, and Paul thought of Larry with his intent face and a paint brush, painting. The rear fender was dented.
    â€˜Broken spoke?’ Paul said.
    Larry watched him.
    â€˜What’s it doing, hitting the chain guard?’
    Larry reached out and took the ice-cream cone from Paul’s hand. It was chocolate, and Paul smiled and watched him taking a large bite. Larry’s tongue darted over the ice cream, licked it till it was a smooth mound; he took another large bite and sucked it. Then he licked again. He was getting close to the cone. When the ice cream was level with the cone he bit into its rim, turning it and biting, and then with one large bite he ate the small end. He had not looked at Paul. He was turning to his bicycle when Eddie said: ‘Well, I hope you enjoyed your ice-cream cone.’
    Larry had both hands on the handlebars and one foot poised at the kickstand; he spun quickly and with his right hand slapped the cone from Eddie’s fist and then with the same hand a fist now he hit Eddie in the stomach and Eddie doubled over holding his stomach and gasping, but from his hurt and panicked face there was no sound. Paul knew where Larry had hit him; he had read about the body and its vulnerable spots and how he could use them, and he knew that Eddie now was not only in pain but he could not breathe. He watched Larry watching Eddie, watched the burning eyes. Eddie was shuffling in a semicircle. Still he did not make a sound. Then bent over he walked past Larry and onto the front lawn, toward the school, toward the back of it where his bicycle was. For a moment Paul watched him. Then smiling at Larry he went after Eddie and, from behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder.
    â€˜Eddie? Are you all right?’
    Eddie shook his head. Looking down from Eddie’s rear Paul saw the left cheek turning red. Then with a hoarse wheeze Eddie breathed. He breathed deeply and let it out fast and still bent forward he breathed again. He kept walking and Paul’s hand dropped behind him. He stopped and breathed again and stood straight; Paul moved beside him and looked at his face and the tears on his cheeks.
    â€˜Are you okay?’
    â€˜I’m going home,’ Eddie said; his shoulders jerking, he crossed the lawn toward the school. Paul watched him go. His back was to Larry. Then he shifted so he was profiled to Larry. When Eddie had gone around the corner of the school Paul looked at Larry, who leaned on his bicycle, watching.
    â€˜You sure got him,’ Paul said. ‘Right in the solar plexus.’
    Larry moved his hands to the handlebars and kicked up the kickstand.
    â€˜You could probably beat Roland. Do you think you could beat Roland?’
    There was neither fear nor challenge in Larry’s eyes, only the dark watching, so quiet and removed that looking into Larry’s eyes Paul seemed to be watching himself. They stood perhaps forty feet apart but Paul felt Larry’s closeness, as though they were seated in school, with Larry at his back through the years, and he seemed to smell the starched khakis, the hair oil, the sweat, and the mustard and milk after lunch. Then Larry rode away.
    That summer on a July afternoon Larry Guidry drowned in Black Bayou. The police found his bicycle and snowball cart on the bank, and beside them