Sobriety, goddamn it! Once and for all.
Whatever comes next, it’s got to be that.
That was true. Dry had never been enough; it was time to push back against the ancient juggernaut of drunk logic at last. No more spinning them in his own head, those soothing, serpent-at-the-tree arguments, the kind he could effortlessly shut down if he heard them made in a courtroom.
He thought again about Hector, the skinny, smiling kid who had done what he said he’d do and kicked heroin. Joe never got to meet the witchy woman Hector had gone to, the one he credited with getting him across that miserable first line. But Joe willed that woman to his side now in the form of an angel, a saint, his own dead mother, whatever he could summon. He might end up needing her very much.
CHAPTER 33
Wednesday, July 13, 1977
West Seventy-Ninth Street and Riverside Park
Upper West Side, Manhattan
10:32 p.m.
“W-who are you?” Robbie said. Joe fell behind him. “Why are you in the woods?”
“We’re on a path,” the voice said. Robbie didn’t seem poised to run, so Joe stayed put also. The voice was steadying and reassuring. “It’s okay. There are quite a few paths through here. This is Riverside Park. We’re almost to where you are. Give us a few seconds. We can lead you out.”
Joe saw the dog first. It was a big, dark creature with ears that pointed up. The dog’s eyes were round, bright, and alert, even in the darkness. Joe could make out a harness strapped to the animal, and attached to that was a short leather leash. The leash was wrapped securely around a man’s hand. The man was white and balding with bushy eyebrows and a big nose. He looked a little goofy in a sweaty Hawaiian shirt, baggy shorts like Joe and Robbie’s father once wore, and loafers with black socks. He had dark glasses on.
“I’m Bertie,” he said. “This is Penny.” He paused a few feet from the boys. Beside him, the dog sat and stared at them. Joe could see it now, the black path the man was on that led into a wood. “How many of you are there? I heard two of you.”
“Just us two,” Robbie said. “We’re trying to get up to the street.”
“Broadway,” Bertie said. “That’s where the traffic is moving. Yes, it’s your best bet. I can show you out. You boys sound young. Are you lost?”
“Not really,” Robbie said. Joe was terrifically glad he wasn’t having to call the shots about whether to engage with this stranger or run from him like the coughing, screaming thing in the tunnel. The man in front of them seemed okay, though, just a funny-looking older man out for a walk. He was clearly blind; Joe had learned about “Seeing Eye dogs” in school, and this poised, sculpted-looking animal was definitely one of them.
“Is Penny a German shepherd?” Joe asked. He had seen pictures of those in school too. Fearsome, strong-looking dogs.
“Good guess,” Bertie said. “Yes, Penny is a shepherd.” At the sound of her name, Penny looked up at Bertie. Her tail wagged minutely. “She’s sweet, but she can be tough. She takes care of me out here.” Now he tugged on the leash just a tiny bit, toward the top of the hill where the traffic was moving. Instantly, Penny stood and began walking at a relaxed, easy pace along the path. Robbie and Joe looked at each other and then fell in behind the man and the dog. It got darker as trees closed in on the path.
“Uh, sir?” Robbie said, his voice hesitant. “Is that a Seeing Eye dog?”
“Bingo,” Bertie said, speaking to the side as they walked along. “I’m as blind as a bat. Have been all my life.”
“Wow,” Joe said, barely a whisper. Bertie chuckled, and Joe was surprised and embarrassed to think he’d heard the remark. Off the path, there were sounds from time to time, mostly human. Coughing, laughter, curses. Joe kept his eyes on what he could make out of the path, his heart thumping. He was able to see more than before, though, and slowly he was getting a sense of where they were. It was a park between the river and the city, he figured. There wasn’t much use in peering much farther ahead, so he kept pace behind Robbie, Bertie, and Penny.
“How old are you boys?” Bertie asked. “I don’t mean to sound pedantic, but it’s dangerous out here. I mean all the time, not just tonight. Especially tonight, though.”
“I’m fifteen,” Robbie said. “Um, my name is Robert. My brother, Joseph, is ten. We . . . we lost track of our mom. We’re trying to find her.”
Bertie turned his head to the side. “You lost track of her?”