“Allie?” Chick looked at her, then back at Leo. “You’re the one who enlisted.”

Leo’s face began what felt like a slow slide off his skull. Chick was looking at Allie now, who just took a slice of watermelon and started chewing.

“Sorry,” Leo said. “Just kidding. I was trying to make a stupid joke. I’m pretty tired from the show, I guess.”

“You sounded good,” Allie said through her watermelon.

“Thanks.”

Chick was quiet a second or two, and Leo couldn’t look at him.

“I don’t think it’s anything to joke about, Leo. I don’t. What does your father think about you going in?”

“I’m not sure.”

“He’s for this war?”

Leo swallowed. “I don’t think so. Anyway, I’m not going to that war.”

“Are you going into the U.S. Army tomorrow, Leo?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are going to that goddamned war. Jesus.” Chick started to pour more Old Crow into the jigger, then stopped. “Please answer my question.”

A fly buzzed against the windowpane in the kitchen. The light was bright in there and the sink was full of dishes. Leo could hear the floorboards creaking upstairs. “It’s personal, Chick. No offense.”

Chick looked at him a second longer, then he poured. “So’s death, Leo. And for whom? For what? He drank down the shot, then pulled his leg from the bench and wheeled towards the hospital bed on the knit rug.”I have to rest my damn back.”

Allie got up and went to help him. She put her hand under the pit of his broken arm, the other across his back, then they both counted to three and Chick stood on his good leg and hopped two steps to the bed, where Allie helped him turn around and sit on the mattress. The heel of his long leg cast barely touched the floor. Chick’s glasses had slid to the tip of his nose. He pushed them back up with his free hand. “It’s not too late. You can take my truck and drive to Quebec tonight. Get him the keys, Allie.”

“No. Thank you, Chick, but I’m going to Europe. They’re sending me to Germany.”

“You think so, do you?”

Leo wanted to say France, that it was France he was heading for, on the weekends, Paris actually, but Chick’s lips were in a tight line and he was shaking his head; it was how he used to look talking with Floyd, and Leo didn’t like having that face pointed at him. He stepped away from the bench and pushed it gently under the table. “Thank you for the watermelon.”

“Wait.” Chick scooted back. Allie held his cast at the calf and as he turned to face the fireplace, she swung his leg up onto the mattress. Chick looked at Allie, then at Leo. A bar of light reflected off his glasses from the kitchen. “You two go for a drive or something, Jesus. And take the keys, Leo. I’m serious. Give him the keys, Allie.”