By the time we got to the steps, it was eight o’clock,

and the entire cathedral was in shadows. The line had

squeezed into just two rows and was moving slowly.

Jonathan called it a classic bottleneck. We took each step

one at a time. The line had grown real quiet. When we

finally entered the cathedral, I couldn’t help but gasp

at how immense the place was. Jonathan had arranged

it so that he walked next to Diane, and I walked next

to Maggie. I wasn’t sure who he was clearing the side

out for, me or himself, but when we stepped inside,

Maggie grabbed ahold of my arm. She looked around in

amazement too. I didn’t think there were any churches as

big as St. Patrick’s in New Jersey. As we walked up the

aisle, nobody said anything. Even Maggie didn’t breathe

a word, and Jonathan was back to his somberness. I could

hear only the slow shuffling of hundreds of feet and an

occasional cough that would echo throughout the whole

place.

It seemed like the longest aisle in the world. I thought

that people who got married in that church probably let

the bride use a golf cart. I checked out all the religious

stuff. It was all pretty much the standard equipment

for any Catholic church, except this place had more of

everything. Churches always felt somber and lonely to me,

and it seemed this one magnified everything. It was just

so big; it made me feel small and insignificant. I didn’t

think I’d ever want to go there alone—that would be

downright spooky.

As we walked up the aisle, there was no sign of the

casket, but we knew we had to be getting close. I was glad

Jonathan was ahead of me because I had no idea what

the heck I was supposed to do when I got to it. I could

hear some people quietly sobbing, but nobody was going

around screaming his or her head off. Jonathan once

told me that at the funerals he went to, the women were

expected to be screaming, yelling, and bawling away, and

the most impressive thing the women could do was faint.

He said one of his aunts held the record in his family for

the most consecutive times fainting at a funeral: nine. He

thought she was fully capable of double digits. His father

had suggested she rent herself out for funerals. If some

old geezer nobody cared about died, the family could hire

Jonathan’s aunt to faint at the funeral. It reflected badly

on a family if somebody in the family was so disliked

that nobody fainted at the funeral. Jonathan’s aunt could

have provided quite a service. She probably could have

charged twenty-five dollars per faint and maybe offered

a deluxe package that included some serious bawling for

an additional ten dollars. Anyway, I didn’t see anybody

fainting or wailing. Everybody tried to keep his or her

composure, but there sure as heck wasn’t anybody smiling.

I could tell we were getting close to the casket because

we were nearing the front of the church. I could see some

people genuflecting. That was always a requirement when

you reached the front of a church. Then I saw it: just off

to the right was the casket. It seemed huge. Bobby wasn’t

such a big guy, so I was sure he had plenty of room in

there. People would go up to the casket and touch it, and

that was all. Some people made the sign of the cross. A few

people had their rosary beads out, and I could see their

lips moving. They were probably on their four millionth

Hail Mary or something. Jonathan went first. He touched

the coffin, and that was it. Diane touched the coffin and

made the sign of the cross. Then they headed out to the

right. One couldn’t stay at the coffin for more than a few

seconds. I mean, we knew there were thousands of people

behind us, and we sure didn’t want to slow up the works

any more.

Maggie had hold of my arm as we got to the casket,

and she wouldn’t let go, so we went up to the coffin and

touched it together. She let go of my arm for just a second

as she made the sign of the cross, and then she grabbed

back on. Her eyes were full of tears. Seeing her eyes filled

with tears gave me a bad pang of sorrow. I wasn’t really

even thinking of Bobby anymore. He wasn’t there. In front

of this oversized, cold, sad-looking coffin in this oversized,

sad ole church, I was thinking about Maggie. That this

beautiful girl could be moved to tears really affected me.

I tried my darnedest not to start sobbing myself. We

walked over to the side of the church where the side exit

was. Jonathan came up to me and grabbed my arm. He

wasn’t looking at me, so I didn’t know whether he could

see that I was on the verge of crying. He whispered in my

ear, “I heard the Yanks won the first game." 

“Yeah?” I said. “When did you hear that?”

Jonathan had gotten my mind off everything. “Just

before we got into the church. Some guy told me. He had

a transistor radio.”

As Jonathan and I were whispering, Maggie and Diane

went over to light a candle. I had never seen so many

candles before in my life. The church must have hauled

out an extra truckload to handle the heavy demand.

Maybe some altar boy went around discreetly putting

out some of the candles so there would always be a supply

of unlit candles people could light. Of course, when you

lit a candle, you were required to make a contribution in

the coin box. The church must have made a mint from

ole Bobby.

We left the church through the side exit. There were

lots of bright lights from TV cameras, and we wondered

if we were on television. It was about eight thirty, and

Jonathan and I knew there was no way we would be

going to the stadium for the second game. I was happy

we had finished paying our respects, but I felt emotionally

drained by the whole thing, and I didn’t know what to do

next. Maggie was still kind of somber, and I wished there

was something I could do to perk her up. Then there was

the matter of how to get back to the bus terminal—I had

no idea where the heck we were. However, as usual, good

old Jonathan had matters well in hand. We walked out

to Fifth Avenue, and we all followed Jonathan. Somehow,

things got a little botched up, and Maggie stuck with her

friend Diane, while I was with Jonathan. We all paused at

the corner and looked back at the church. It was an eerie

sight—the bright lights of the TV cameras and the line

of people that came out of the darkness and up the steps

into the mouth of the cathedral. I thought I might see the

end of the line, but it was still nowhere in sight.

As we headed back, Jonathan seemed to be in a good

mood again. He was yakking away to me about this and

that, and it was just like old times. At first, I didn’t really

want to listen to him. I still felt down about everything,

but soon Jonathan got me out of my mood when he

guaranteed to me that the Cardinals were going to win

the pennant and the World Series again. He said they

were just as good as the Yankees teams of the early sixties.

Of course, I said, “No way,” and we went on and on

comparing the present-day Cardinals to my old Yankees,

back when the Yankees were good. After a while, I kind

of resented Jonathan for getting me into that conversation

because I wanted to spend some more time with Maggie. I

knew that could be the last time I ever saw her. I mean, I

didn’t usually take many trips on my bike to Bloomington.

Well, Jonathan wasn’t a dummy, and he noticed that I

kept glancing back to see how Maggie was doing.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, ole buddy. You’ve got a crush on

Maggie,” Jonathan said.

“Hey! No. No way.” Of course I had to deny it, but

Jonathan knew better.

“Look, T. J., my boy. You’ve got to play it cool. Don’t

slobber all over the kid, man. Be cool. She came here

with her girlfriend. Don’t you think she probably wants

to spend a little time with her? And look, there ain’t much

we can do now. I mean, what do you do after paying your 

respects to a dead statesman—hit a bar? Go out to dinner?

Head down to the Village?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I guess you’re right.”

“Look, T. J., the two chicks are both emotionally

drained. They don’t recover so fast from these kinds of

tragedies.”

“Hey, look who’s talking,” I said. “You wouldn’t come

out of your house for a week after the Doc was killed.”

“Not true ,” Jonathan said. “I just didn’t want to go to

school with all you white honkies.”

“Oh, so that was it, huh, Jonathan? We’re all white

honkies. Ha! All white people are responsible for what

happened to the Doc. Right?” I was getting really pissed

off. I had forgiven Jonathan for not speaking to me for

two months, but it made my blood boil when he actually

came out and said why. “White honkies, is it? You have

to be black to care about somebody like the Doc. Right?”

“Hey now, T. J., let’s not get carried away here.”

“I suppose Bobby Kennedy was responsible too.

Right? And Bobby getting killed was just like the chickens

coming home to roost.”

“Hey, man, that’s not what I mean,” Jonathan said,

but I was gone before he could finish. I dashed across

the street, dodged a few cars, and headed up one of the

avenues. I ran as far and as hard as I could, and I didn’t

know why. Maybe I was just really pissed at Jonathan

because he’d left me all alone for two months on the

stupid baseball team—two months when I was right in

the middle of the big racial mess and when I really needed

a friend. Then I stopped. I was tired, and I wasn’t mad

at Jonathan anymore. I never really had been mad at

Jonathan. I knew why he felt the way he did. I understood

why some black people blamed white people for the Doc’s

murder. I knew darn well that some white people were

actually happy that Martin Luther King Jr. was dead. I

was angry and frustrated that it had to be like that and

that someone like Bobby Kennedy, who’d been trying to

change it all, had gotten shot too. Would any good ever

come of it all? Did people really die in vain?

As I stood there on the corner, Maggie came running

up to me.

“Hey, T. J., what’s the story?” she asked. “You’d make

a heck of a skier with legs like that.”

“Yeah,” I said. I was real embarrassed this time. “Well,

actually, I’m pretty fast around the base paths.”

“Oh yeah. You’re a baseball player. I forgot,” Maggie

said. “Oh, Jonathan says he’s sorry for what he said. He

says he feels like a big jerk. What’s with you two anyway?

You trying to act like a couple of spoiled toddlers?” We

both laughed.

“Nah, I’m not mad at him. I just wanted to stretch

my legs a little.”

“Oh, I get it. Trying out for the Avenue of the Americas

track team.” Maggie got me laughing again.

“Yeah, how did you know?” I said, and we headed

back. Maggie started telling me stories about a friend of

hers who was a track star. I didn’t want to ruin her story

by telling her that I thought track and field was even more

boring than skiing, so I let her go on until we got back to

 Jonathan and Diane.

We walked the rest of the way back with Jonathan and

Diane together in front as Maggie and I followed. Maggie

used the track team story to explain why I’d run off like

a jerk. We all knew it was just a joke, but at least Maggie

saved me from the embarrassment of trying to explain my

actions. Jonathan sure as heck knew why I’d run off, and

there was no reason to try to explain it to Diane.

I finally knew where we were when we got to

Broadway and Forty-Second Street. I hadn’t been paying

much attention to where we were, but I always knew it

when I got to Forty-Second Street, and I sure as heck

paid attention when I walked down Forty-Second Street.

The crazies were out in full force on that warm spring

night, and I felt an obligation to kind of protect Maggie,

so I made sure we stayed right behind Jonathan, because

whether Jonathan knew it or not, he was protecting me.

Maggie grabbed my arm and stayed close.

“This place is a little crazy, but I just love all the

people,” she said to me. Maggie seemed to have a way to

see the positive in things.

When we passed the peep show place Jonathan and I

had snuck into, Jonathan looked back and gave me a little

wink. Well, I guess maybe the street has some advantages, I

thought. Jonathan stepped up his pace, and I tried to stay

close to him. Jonathan certainly was a master at weaving

his way through the screwy pedestrian traffic on Forty-

Second Street.

When we got to the bus terminal, everyone was

rushing. We all bought our bus tickets, and Maggie and

Diane found out that their bus was set to leave in five 

 minutes. Jonathan and I had about a fifteen-minute wait,

so we went with the girls as they hurried up to their bus

platform. I had no time to think about goodbyes, and

Jonathan and I had no time to plot strategy. However, it

seemed Maggie had it all figured out. When we got to the

escalator, Diane got on, but Maggie stopped short. She

opened up her pocketbook, and as fast as she could, she

wrote down her phone number on a little piece of paper.

“Come on, Mag!” Diane yelled from halfway up the

escalator. “The bus is here!”

“Here, T. J.,” Maggie said. “Why don’t you call me?

Maybe I can see you when school gets out. Our family

goes away in the summer, but call me anyway.” She started

to get on the escalator but stopped.

“Come on, Mag!” Diane called.

Maggie quickly came back to me and gave me a quick

kiss and a little hug. “Thanks for putting up with me,”

she said.

“Oh yeah, but gee.” I was too flustered to say anything

that made any sense.

“Bye, T. J. Bye, Jonathan,” Maggie said as she gave a

little wave, and she ran up the escalator. I watched her all

the way up. She gave another little wave at the top, and

then she was gone.

I walked slowly over to Jonathan. “Come on, lover,”

he said. I took a swipe at Jonathan for that remark, but

he dodged it and ran off with me chasing him. When I

caught him, I gave him a big shove, and then we both

started laughing.