Chapter 10

St. Clarence's school for boys, 1937

There was really no telling what Bill was thinking, as Bobby finished packing his suitcase.

His own heart was in shambles, for what it was worth.

He'd been accepted to med school in Memphis. He should have been elated. And he was, for a while, when he got the letter and wrote to his mother to let her know the good news. He could look after her, and Hannah. He would be a prestigious doctor and provide for his family, all the while healing people, maybe even saving lives.

But…

Graduation was upon them. Well, upon him only. Bill, one year younger, would watch from the sidelines and then, be… left behind.

He'd hugged Bobby tight, when he announced the news. The first and only time it had happened. Bobby had squeezed him back and swallowed his tears, hiding the fact that he was taking deep lungfuls of his friend's scent, knowing he wouldn't see him again for quite some time, if at all.

And since then, Bill had barely said a word, to him or to anyone, for that matter. Bobby knew there was really no point asking: if there was one thing he'd learned over the past five years or so, it was that if Bill Mercer didn't want to talk about something, then he never would. They'd been friends since the beginning, had spent every day together since then, and Bobby still wondered what went on in Bill's head at the best of times.

So he wasn't really prepared, sitting on the edge of his mattress folding socks as he had been doing for the past ten minutes, for Bill to stand up and announce out of the blue:

"I'll be applying to med school, too."

Bobby's hands froze around a pair of red woolen socks. For a blinding second, all he could perceive was the rhythm of his own heart, thrown off by the bomb Bill had just dropped.

After a while, when it didn't seem like his friend was going to add anything, Bobby cleared his throat and asked:

"Are um… are you sure?"

Bill nodded, with that air of stubborn determination he often got.

"It's what I want to do."

Bobby lowered his head and smiled to himself.

"And do you have an idea what kind of doctor you'd like to be?"

Bill shrugged. "Maybe… a surgeon?"

"Doesn't sound like you've thought about it a lot," Bobby teased, too brilliantly happy to hold back.

He stifled a laugh when Bill sighed dramatically, and sat on his own bed again.

"I have some time to figure it out anyway. And before you ask, I'm not doing it because of you."

Bobby nodded in turn. There was really nothing Bill could say that would take his joy away. It would be a year, yes, and a long one. But it wouldn't be forever.

"And have you thought about which school?"

Bill rolled his eyes. At seventeen, he'd grown into a burly young man, with wide shoulders wrapped in a healthy layer of muscle from all the boxing he had kept on doing. He was still waiting on facial hair to grow, however, his upper lip barely obscured by a dark fuzz, when Bobby already had to shave his mustache off every week.

Bill didn't reply, and Bobby took it for the confirmation that it was. If anything, this was an admission that Bill, too, didn't want this to end. Whatever this was.

"Have you got your suit ready for tonight?" Bill asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject.

"Yeah, ironed and everything. My mom's coming too, but I doubt she'll have managed to get Hannah out of school for it… I think we get a photograph, though. Would be nice to show her when I go home."

Going home.

That was the gist of the problem. What had kept him awake for the past few nights, and, if he believed Bill's uneven breaths when he lied thinking in the dark, his friend too.

He was delighted to be seeing his mother and sister again. His dad, as predicted, wouldn't be showing up.

I called him sweetie, I swear. He said he couldn't make the flight, I'm so sorry.

Screw that jerk.

But going home meant leaving Bill. They'd done it several times in the past, summers mostly that Bobby spent back home while Bill was sent to a distant aunt up north.

He never went back to his parents, and Bobby hadn't really ever dared to ask why that was. He'd gathered little clues over the years. That Bill's parents were still together, but that his mother had never tried to contact him since the day Bill got dropped off at the school.

That Bill's father sounded scarier than any adult had any right to be.

And one day, Bill violently flinching at the sound of Bobby's belt sliding off.

Bobby had switched to wearing suspenders too, after that, as soon as he could.

He worried about what would become of his friend when he was gone. Not that Bill couldn't take care of himself, now. He was tall and strong enough that no bullies would try anything.

But it wasn't hard to notice that Bill hadn't made any other friends during his time here. That the only times he ever smiled, or laughed, were when Bobby was around, specifically designing schemes and jokes to pull those sounds from the other boy. Even stupid Laila hadn't made him smile for very long before she betrayed his trust.

Bobby closed his suitcase with a sigh.

"When do you start?" Bill asked.

They'd talked about it already, but Bobby assumed it was a safer discussion than what they weren't saying.

"In September, if all goes well. I still need my dad to pay for tuition, so… let's pray he doesn't pull out of that commitment, too."

He hated the bitterness in his own voice, but Bill had never reproached it to him. Hatred of their fathers had always been one of their shared traits, though a hard one to bond over.

"Will you…" Bill trailed off, turning his head towards the window.

The sun was still shining bright over the courtyard, on that August day. It didn't look like the weather had plans to catch on to the general mood.

"Will I what?"

Bill chewed on his lower lip for a while before he finished his sentence.

"Will you come to mine?"

Bobby frowned for the time it took him to make sense of the question.

"You mean graduation?"

Bill nodded, still not looking at him, and Bobby melted a little. He hadn't thought about it, but if Bill's mother had never visited him, and he wasn't going back home either, then… it was unlikely anyone from his family would show when it would be time for Bill to leave this place.

"I'll do whatever it takes to be there," Bobby rasped, failing to cover up the solemnity of his promise.

Bill's ‘thank you' was muttered only loud enough for Bobby to hear it, but still low enough that they didn't require any more words after that.

They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to slow down time, playing cards on Bobby's bed. The suitcase pushed as far out of view as they could.

Then, when the hour came, they changed into their suits. Bill didn't need any help with his tie anymore. The year before, Bobby had gotten him a nice pinstriped bow tie for his birthday. With his own birthday money, but Bill didn't need to know that.

Bobby's heart soared when he saw that was the one Bill had picked to wear tonight.

They ran down the stairs together, knowing that today, no warden would scold them for it. They met the other boys in the dining hall where all the tables had been pushed away, replaced by rows of seats facing the end of the room.

The headmaster was dressed all in black, as if for a funeral. What a send-off they would be getting.

Bobby greeted his classmates, exchanging a few niceties about their future and their chosen studies though he still got a cold shoulder from a lot of them.

Some were going to become engineers, a few others, lawyers. Bobby was the only one to have chosen medicine, which baffled his young, idealistic mind. Why would anyone want to do something else than study diseases and learn to cure them, to make people's lives that little bit better?

He learned much later that without engineers and lawyers, medicine wouldn't stand on its own in the middle of modern society.

It turned out a fairly formal and cheerless evening. Each boy was called to the front to be congratulated, shake the headmaster's hand, and immediately go back to his seat. Bobby was sat in the front rows with the others, while the rest of the school was further back, behind the seats reserved for family.

Bobby was fairly sure that his mother had been crying when he went on stage, but protocol didn't allow him to go give her a hug until everyone had been handed their diploma in the form of an unassuming roll of paper.

However, it was the first thing he did as soon as they were released from their uncomfortable seats. Kate Rosenberg pulled her son tight into her chest and kissed his cheek, straining to reach it. She was tall, but he had outgrown her the year before, with all the ugly realization that one day, he would be stronger than his parents, and wouldn't have to count on them for his survival.

"I'm proud of you."

Bobby sniffled into her deep auburn curls, and did his best to discreetly wipe the tears away before he straightened up. Wouldn't do to let the other boys see him like this.

"Where's Bill?" his mother asked, turning light brown eyes away to search for him, used to seeing the two boys joined at the hip.

Bobby liked to think that if they'd been to school closer to his childhood home, where his mother was left behind by his dad, Bill would have been well looked after.

His mother never failed to drop enough cakes for two, when she visited, and despite Bill not celebrating the same holidays as them – if any – she'd done her best not to ever make him feel excluded. It only helped that Bill had once told her that her latkes were the best thing he'd ever eaten. Ever since then, she'd always make an extra helping for him.

Bill stood stiff as a post near the main door, while the rest of the boys and their families trickled outside, waiting for the room to be rearranged into a dining hall once more. Kate hugged him too, and Bill went willingly. She was the only other person Bobby had ever seen Bill accept physical touch from. At least, something else than punches on the boxing ring.

The day went by too fast. They had a lunch of chicken and potatoes, and cherry pie for dessert. Then it was time for goodbyes. Bobby's mother had not opted to book a hotel night near the school and spend some more time around and socialize with other families. Considering how those barely even acknowledged her, Bobby couldn't blame her. And there was Hannah to think of, home with only the neighbor to check on her.

His mom seemed oblivious to his inner struggle as she took the suitcase's handle from him and started heaving it towards the car that would take them to the train station. Surely she must have spent a lot of her wage on a cab fare to save them a thirty minutes walk carrying his luggage along a dangerous road. And Bobby didn't mean to make her wait and spend even more.

But he could feel Bill's presence at his back, hovering and awkward.

How were they supposed to say goodbye?

He turned around, slowing the movement down as much as he could.

Bill had his hands in his pockets, and his nose pointed at the ground.

"So… You'll have to write to me first, since I won't know your new address ‘till you do."

"Alright," Bobby croaked.

He meant to smile, but his cheek muscles wouldn't move.

"You'll be great," Bill added, still not looking up.

"So will you. You better get the best grades and get accepted into med school now," Bobby tried for a laugh, but the sound that came out of his mouth was, horrifyingly, closer to a sob.

"Right. You just watch me," Bill finally raised his head, a defiant glint in his eyes.

"Well, I won't be able to, so you better be honest in those letters of yours."

Bill nodded.

"You'll be okay?" they both asked, voices merging in the cooling summer air.

The sun was setting at last, casting dancing orange lights in Bill's hair. This made them laugh, finally.

"Well go on," Bill said, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the pavement of the courtyard.

Bobby tried to make his feet move, and when they did, it was to fall against Bill and wrap him in his arms. He barely held back a kiss to his temple before he pulled back, and ran to the cab. He was breathing hard when he settled in the back, and his mother took his hand on the seat between them.

Bill's silhouette didn't move, and Bobby watched it grow smaller and smaller, until the wetness in his eyes made it too blurry to make out.

St. Clarence's school for boys, 1938

He was late. His stupid train had taken forever to depart, and then he'd waited far too long at the station for a cab, amidst all the families who were likely headed in the same direction as him, but didn't think to share a car with the lone boy holding a backpack off one shoulder, sweaty and too eager.

He'd changed in the toilets of the train, but had yet to slip on the bow tie that matched his tux.

He nervously tapped his fingers on his thigh throughout the whole journey, and nearly forgot to pay before he stumbled out of the car.

Bobby raised his eyes at the imposing mass of the gray building that had been his home for so many years. He hadn't missed the unwelcoming courtyard, the cold rooms and corridors, the isolation in the countryside.

The door to the dining hall was already closed.

He ran.

He cracked it open as quietly as he could, and only got a few disapproving stares as he slipped past the opening and went to grab a seat at the back. The headmaster, same old joyless fucker as last year, was calling a boy called Borgess, and Bobby sighed with relief. That meant Bill hadn't been on yet.

He just hoped his friend didn't think he'd let him down.

By the time Mercer was called, Bobby's heart had slowed down to a quieter rhythm, only to pick back up as a familiar, yet slightly different silhouette appeared into view. He'd grown taller still, not over Bobby's height, but closer. He wore a light gray blazer over a white shirt, and a new bow tie. Bobby smiled at the sight of it. Of him. He hadn't expected to be so relieved to see him in person after a year of exchanging letters once a week.

He looked healthy. Still sullen, and with light bags under his eyes from the fitful sleep Bobby had always known him to have, but… grown. Almost an adult, now. And he'd be joining Bobby soon, and they would pick up where they'd left off.

Bill surely would get a room on campus, provided his loan came through and he could pay in time. Bobby had had to rent in town, and walked to his lectures every day, getting up earlier than all the others and crossing the streets with the weight of his textbooks on his back.

He could already see himself helping Bill with the first year subjects, sharing his notes with him. They could settle in the library to do their reading together. He'd thought of everything.

He was the first to stand up when the ‘ceremony' was over. He'd kept track of where Bill was seated, and walked upstream through the families and students leaving the room to stand at the end of the row of seats.

Bill hadn't noticed him yet. He was looking straight ahead, but at nothing, eyes unfocused and… wistful. Bobby couldn't stand the sight of the downward curve of his mouth, but he couldn't well shout his friend's name and make a scene.

It took long seconds for Bill to turn around, and for his eyes to fall on him.

Bobby waved, and Bill's mouth opened, surprise first, then a little frown, until at last, he smiled, pulling the air from Bobby's lungs.

"You came."

"Of course I did. I promised."

Bill strode forward to meet him. They didn't hug this time. Too many people around, or maybe Bill thought he had outgrown even that.

There was an awkward moment where they had to join the crowd outside, and found a secluded corner to recline against a wall side by side, looking at their shoes. Then, one of them started talking, and it was as if they had never stopped.

Everything they hadn't been able to fit in the few pages they could afford to mail each other. The news, and the rising concern over what was happening in Europe. Bobby's studies, his favorite subjects, if he'd dissected anything yet. Bill's wide eyes when Bobby told him about the pig heart.

They sat next to each other at dinner, and talked so much that Bill forgot to eat most of his food. He was half turned on his seat to face Bobby, looking at him with eyes so wide that Bobby feared he would trip and fall down them like Alice in the well.

The night slipped through Bobby's grasp just as fast as six years in Bill's company had. How this boy made the time fly faster than a modern plane, with the same noise and vibrations rattling through Bobby's chest, he didn't know.

Today, Bobby had booked a room for himself in town. Just in case, he'd gotten one with twin beds.

"Where are you going to go for the summer, then?" he asked when they put away their dessert plates.

Bill shrugged.

"Probably will catch a train to my auntie's. Don't expect she'll be happy to see me, but…"

It's all I have, was what he didn't say. No it isn't, Bobby was about to teach him. He gathered the words he'd formulated in his mind a dozen times over his train journey, and said:

"Well, you know, I talked it over with Mom and… she said you're welcome to spend it with us. The summer, I mean. Hannah will be going to England to see our dad," he added, not elaborating on the fact that only his sister had been invited to take that trip, "so her room will be empty, and if you're worried about food and stuff we can always work a bit in the local diner, be good to save up some cash anyway before you start your first year, but you won't need it for books anyway cause I saved mine for you…"

He had to stop eventually, running out of breath. When he chanced a look at Bill, he was fairly sure that his lower lip was shaking.

"You really mean that?" his friend whispered, barely audible over the cacophony of conversations and laughter around them.

"Always mean it with you."

It was too much, too open and he might have spilled his heart over the table if they hadn't been interrupted by someone rudely passing behind Bobby's chair and elbowing him in the back of the head. When they were done glaring, the boys looked at each other again. Bill was picking at the skin around his nails, a gesture Bobby knew well, by now. It took so long for Bill to speak again that Bobby was silently bracing himself for a refusal when Bill said:

"I think I'd like that."

He felt his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, his whole body out of control.

"Not like my aunt will miss me much," Bill added, shrugging one shoulder.

"Well for what it's worth…" Bobby forced the words out, worried he never would otherwise, "I missed you so I'll be glad to see you more often."

Bill was looking away, but Bobby could tell he was holding back a smile. Why he thought he needed to do that, he wasn't sure.

"Cool. I've got a hotel room in town, do you… are you staying here tonight?"

This time, Bill turned to look at him.

"I don't see why I'd want to stay any longer."

They both looked around them at the school, that blocky building that had been their unwilling home for several years, had seen them grow up in a way, in the manner a stern and cold mother would.

Never an embrace or a spare smile.

They'd had to find what little comfort they could in each other.

"Yeah, I guess not," Bobby murmured.

They loaded Bill's suitcase in the trunk of the taxi, Bobby desperately trying to hide how much his hands were shaking.

The next day, they hopped on a train to New York. It was Bill's first time traveling by rail, and he spent the whole journey with his nose pressed against the window.

It was still, to this day, the best summer of Bobby's life.