Page 9 of The Life of Chuck

Drinking is not good for secrets, everybody knows that, and after the death of his son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter-to-be (Alyssa, sounds like rain), Albie Krantz drank a great deal.

He should have bought stock in Anheuser-Busch, that was how much he drank.

He could do it because he was retired, and comfortably off, and very depressed.

After the trip to Disney World the drinking tapered off to a glass of wine with dinner or a beer in front of a baseball game.

Mostly. Once in awhile—every month at first, every couple of months later on—Chuck’s grandpa tied one on.

Always at home, and never making any fuss about it.

The next day he would move slowly and eat little until afternoon, then he was back to normal.

One night while watching the Red Sox get thumped by the Yankees, when Albie was well into his second sixpack of Bud, Chuck once more raised the subject of the cupola. Mostly just to have something to talk about. With the Sox down by nine, the game wasn’t exactly holding his attention.

“I bet you can see way past the Westford Mall,” Chuck said.

Grandpa considered this, then pushed the mute button on the TV controller, silencing an ad for Ford Truck Month. (Grandpa said Ford stood for Fix Or Repair Daily.) “If you went up there you might see a lot more than you wanted,” he said. “That’s why it’s locked, boychick.”

Chuck felt a small and not entirely unpleasurable chill go through him, and his mind immediately flashed to Scooby-Doo and his friends, chasing down spooks in the Mystery Machine.

He wanted to ask what Grandpa meant, but the adult part of him—not there in person, no, not at ten, but something that had begun to speak on rare occasions—told him to be quiet. Be quiet and wait.

“Do you know what style this house is, Chucky?”

“Victorian,” Chuck said.

“That’s right, and not pretend Victorian, either.

It was built in 1885, been remodeled half a dozen times since, but the cupola was there from the start.

Your bubbie and I bought it when the shoe business really took off, and we got it for a song.

Been here since 1971, and in all those years I haven’t been up to that damn cupola half a dozen times. ”

“Because the floor’s rotted?” Chuck asked, with what he hoped was appealing innocence.

“Because it’s full of ghosts,” Grandpa said, and Chuck felt that chill again.

Not so pleasurable this time. Although Grandpa might be joking.

He did joke from time to time these days.

Jokes were to Grandpa what dancing was to Grandma.

He tipped his beer. Belched. His eyes were red.

“Christmas Yet to Come. Do you remember that one, Chucky?”

Chuck did, they watched A Christmas Carol every year on Christmas Eve even though they didn’t “do” Christmas otherwise, but that didn’t mean he knew what his grandpa was talking about.

“The Jefferies boy was only a short time later,” Grandpa said.

He was looking at the TV, but Chuck didn’t think he was actually seeing it.

“What happened to Henry Peterson… that took longer. It was four, maybe five years on. By then I’d almost forgotten what I saw up there.

” He jerked a thumb at the ceiling. “I said I’d never go up there again after that, and I wish I hadn’t.

Because of Sarah—your bubbie—and the bread.

It’s the waiting, Chucky, that’s the hard part. You’ll find that out when you’re—”

The kitchen door opened. It was Grandma, back from Mrs. Stanley’s across the street.

Grandma had taken her chicken soup because Mrs. Stanley was feeling poorly.

So Grandma said anyway, but even at not quite eleven, Chuck had a good idea there was another reason.

Mrs. Stanley knew all the neighborhood gossip (“She’s a yente , that one,” Grandpa said), and was always willing to share.

Grandma poured all the news out to Grandpa, usually after inviting Chuck out of the room.

But out of the room didn’t mean out of earshot.

“Who was Henry Peterson, Grandpa?” Chuck asked.

But Grandpa had heard his wife come in. He straightened up in his chair and put his can of Bud aside. “Look at that!” he cried in a passable imitation of sobriety (not that Grandma would be fooled). “The Sox have got the bases loaded!”