Getting busted seemed like the best thing that ever happened to Waltham. He acted all bummed out but deep down inside he really loved it. It was P.R. In a matter of days, he shelved the Brylcream and decided to go with the dry look. Then he traded in the flood pants for a pair of farmer jeans and dumped the wing tips in favor of work boots. The Coke bottle Band-Aidified glasses were replaced with Coke bottle, John Lennon-style wire rims and, to complete the image, Irving canceled his Business Week and Wall Street Journal subscriptions and started reading Rolling Stone and High Times. Believe it or not, it worked. Waltham started seeing Kara Kellinan on a steady basis. I was happy for him.

About a month into the term I got a message from Jane asking that I meet her in front of the grocery store at 4:30. I ran through a downpour all the way into town. Jane was waiting outside the store under a canvas awning. She was wearing her black overcoat and gangster hat. In those eyes was a look I’d never seen before.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning her so that her back was against the store’s picture window.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

I hung my head and listened to the drumming of the raindrops on the canvas. All at once, everything seemed to be conspiring against us. Jane’s hands were twisted together against my chest.

“Don’t look like that,” I said, pulling her head to my chin. “It’s no big deal.”

Jane wrapped her arms around my neck like a little girl hugging her father.

“I can scrape up the money,” I said. “I’ll borrow it from someone. You just got to get permission to go to Boston for the weekend. Tell them you’re looking at colleges or something.”

She stepped slowly away. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t think I do. Tell me.”

“I’m talking about going to Boston.”

“Why?”

“For the abortion. Where else are we going to go?”

She looked spaced-out.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m going to.”

“I’m not getting an abortion.”

I waited for an explanation. Was there an easier way? Could she just take a pill or something?

“What are you saying?”

Jane’s chin flushed, drew in, dimpled. “I’m having the baby. It’s not that hard to figure out.”

“You were the one who said you’d have an abortion!” I yelled.

“What?”

“Don’t give me that innocent shit, Jane. Remember in Florida? When I asked you what you’d do if this happened?”

She blinked. “That’s right. And I said I’d have the baby.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Your exact words were that you’d take care of it.”

Just as I was saying it, it struck me what she’d meant.