“Well, you just call the Navy in Great Lakes. They’re the ones who have got to get me back to Columbus. You just bill them for it. I mean, a serviceman on his way home has a right to be given proper transportation without going through a hassle. You just pick up that phone and call the Navy.”

The man looked at him and then said, “Okay, why don’t you just wait here and I’ll see what we can do for a serviceman?” “Where’s the men’s room?” Allen asked.

She pointed and Allen walked to it quickly.

Once inside, seeing there was no one else there, he grabbed a loose roll of toilet paper off the ledge and flung it across the room. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” he shouted. “Goddamn it, I can’t take any more of this shit!”

When he settled down, he washed his face, brushed his hair back and put his white cap on at a jaunty angle to face the people at the ticket counter

“All right,” the woman said. “It’s been worked out. I’ll write you up a new ticket. You’ve got a seat on the next flight out. It leaves in two hours.”

During the flight back to Columbus, Allen mulled over his annoyance at having been in New York for five days without seeing any of it except the inside of a taxi and Kennedy International Airport. He had no idea how he had gotten there, who had stolen the time or what had happened. He wondered if he would ever find out. On the bus to Lancaster, he settled back for a nap and mumbled—hoping Arthur or Ragen would hear it—“Somebody sure screwed up.”

(3)

Allen got a job selling vacuum cleaners and trash compactors door-to-door for Interstate Engineering. Fast-talking Allen did well for about a month. He observed his co-worker Sam Garrison making dates with waitresses and secretaries as well as customers. Allen admired his hustle.

On the Fourth of July, 1972, Garrison asked, as they sat talking, “How come you don’t date some of these chicks?”

“I don’t have time,” Allen said. He squirmed, always uncomfortable when the conversation turned to sex. “I’m not really that interested.”

“You’re not queer, are you?”

“Hell no.”

“Seventeen, and you’re not interested in girls?”

“Look,” Allen said, “I’ve got other things on my mind.” “For God’s sake,” Garrison said, “haven’t you ever been laid?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Unaware of Philip’s experience with the girl in the psychiatric hospital, Allen felt his face go red and he turned away.

“You don’t mean to tell me you’re a virgin.”

Allen said nothing.

“Well, my boy,” Garrison said. ‘We’ll have to do something about that. Leave it to Sam. I’ll pick you up at your house tonight at seven o’clock.”

That evening, Allen showered, dressed up and used some of Billy’s brother’s cologne. Jim was in the Air Force now and wouldn’t miss it.

Garrison arrived on time and drove him up town. They pulled up in front of the Hot Spot on Broad Street and Garrison said, “Wait in the car. I’ll be right out with something.” Allen was startled when Garrison returned a few minutes later with two bored-looking young women.