“Yeah, right,” he said. “Besides, maybe he’ll get lucky. Maybe after you die there’s just, you know … nothing.”

DeCenz and I continued talking about current events that concerned us. Who was going to win Super Bowl IX, did U.F.O.s really exist, and where was the most strategic location to avoid fallout when the nuclear war came. As I was getting out of the car, I said, “We’re still hitting ’Zona this June no matter what, right?”

DeCenz gave me the thumbs up. “Is a frog’s ass waterproof?”

Quietly we began to sing: “I don’t want to live in the city no more/I don’t want to die in a nuclear war/I just want to go to a far-away shore/And live like an ape man.”

When I shut the door, DeCenz goosed his engine, screeched away, and headed at the pole that had wasted Mousy. I cringed, but he swerved away at the last instant.

Never did much in the way of celebrating Christmas around my house, but that year was by far the worst. It was just the old man and me. Jackie didn’t come home. To wake up Christmas Day without him there was weird.

The old man and I called the clinic to wish Jackie a merry Christmas, but the nurse who answered said he was staying with a friend of his named Charlie and she didn’t know the phone number. “Well get off your big ass and find it,” the old man told her. “Listen, sister, I didn’t waste five bucks just to hear your fat voice.”

When we reached Jackie, he sounded happier than he’d been in a while. I said, “Do the people in Arizona celebrate Christmas like they do around here, with all the lights and shit?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “But these people ain’t from Arizona, they’re from Vermont.”

“Well, where you staying?”

“At their other house. They keep one here in Arizona so Charlie don’t got to live at the clinic.” He lowered his voice. “I think they got bucks.”

“Must be nice.”

“Sucks,” he whispered. “His parents are sort of a pain-in-the-ass. I mean, they’re friendly and stuff, but nobody wants to live at home and have to commute.”

“No?”

“You kidding? Of course not. My place is frigging great.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You wouldn’t believe all the Christmas parties we’ve had lately.”

“Well you ain’t missing nothing here,” I said.

“How’s the tree?”

“What tree?”

“Come on. Not even a fake?”

“You were the one who always picked out the tree.”

The old man took the phone and spoke to Jackie about maybe going out to visit him. After he hung up, he looked at me and said, “Merry Christmas from your brother.”