“Had to stop to expectorate. Sir.”

“Spit on your own fucking time.”

Maybe this was what a drug was like, the feeling of Ben spreading through his body, a tension easing away. Ronny laughed. “You’re a little drunk.”

“Me and dad had a few when we got home. Pretty quick, one right after the other.”

Ronny waited. He was hearing an edge of hurt in Ben’s voice.

“You there?”

“Oh, yeah. Just listening. How’s your mom doing?”

“Like shit. Like she’s been wrung out.” He was quiet for a minute. “They tell you right up front that to kill the cancer they have to come close to killing the patient.”

“That’s what they do, all right.”

“It’s a fucking mess to watch. It makes me fucking want to break something.”

“You sure you feel like talking?”

“Hell yes. Don’t get scared of me.”

Silence. “I’m not. Promise.”

“She just looks so wasted and keeps throwing up.” Quiet after that, the sound of Ben’s breathing.

“I’m still here,” Ronny said. “I got plenty of quarters.” Though he didn’t, really. This was Ben’s money he was using, left over from the deposit on the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Student union. There’s nobody here. It’s kind of cool.”

“I settled Dad down today, I think,” Ben said. “We had a talk but that didn’t do any fucking good so I told him if I heard about him fighting with Mom again I would bust his face in. He knew what I meant then. He kind of cracked up and bawled all over me. I couldn’t take it.”

“Beer help?”

“Not a goddamn bit.”

Ronny put in more money at the tone. “I could get up there on the bus.”

“Thanks. I think I can hang on to Monday if you can.”

“Tate brought me a case of beer to the boardinghouse. I don’t have anywhere to put it.”

“Put it under the bed. I’ll drink it if you don’t.” Over the phone he sounded as if he was wired pretty tight. “Jen’s here right now. I should probably get off the phone pretty soon.”

“Sure.”

“I said pretty soon.”

Ronny laughed. “You’re the boss.”

“It’s a good thing you know it, too.” The sound changed, a television in another room, someone talking in the room with him, and then Ben’s voice came through again, but different. “I’ll be off in a minute,” he said. “No, I can’t come sit on the couch with you right now. You see I’m on the phone.” A moment later, “I’m talking to Ronny, that’s who. Get the fuck out of the door, Jen.” He was breathing into the receiver. In the background a door closed, the sound of television diminished. “I better get off the phone, baby, before I have to break something here.”

“Sure.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ll come back here to call.”

Ben sat on the line a moment longer. “Thanks for not giving me any argument. Right? You get it?”

“Yes.” Ronny touched his head to the phone booth. “No argument. Okay?”