The Splendor of Light

The beach was tempting. Lots of girls in bikinis, soaking up the sun, partying late into the night. But Dick Frey and Andy Lebauer, pre-med students at Tulane, drove home for spring break. Graduation, with honors, two months away. On the drive to Conway, they talked about medical school and the uncertainty that awaited them. The boys wondered where their career-choice would lead them. Friends since the first grade, would their paths divide? Would one or both of them return to Conway? Dick and Andy could only shrug; they had no crystal ball. But of this they were sure, their most cherished boyhood dreams would soon come true. Dick had just finished supper when he heard the horn out front. “Gotta go, Mom.” “Where’re you boys off to this time?” his mother asked. “Ruston, to catch a movie. Andy’s got a hot date, and I get her best friend. Probably a string bean with a face that only a mother could love.” “Now Richard, be nice.” (His mother always used his Christian name when issuing a reprimand or giving him advice.) “And be careful. Sometimes Andy forgets that a two lane highway is not the Indy 500.” Dick kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door. He heard the music blaring from the Chevy speakers before he cleared the porch. Andy’s left arm rested on the open window, his cigarette glowing in the dark. “What kept you?” he shouted, turning the volume down. Dick looked at the clock on the dashboard. “You’re ten minutes early. What’s the rush?” Andy tossed his cigarette and turned the ignition. “Always arrive a little early. It makes a good impression.” “Says who?” “Says me.” Andy elbowed his friend and laughed. “Of course, the girls won’t be ready so they’ll apologize and presto—we already have an advantage.” “I’m honored to ride with the authority on the art of dating,” Dick snickered. “By the way, what’s the name of Jenny’s friend?” “Katie—and according to my sources, a knockout.” “Unlike your last set up,” Dick reminded him. “You still owe me for that one.” The boys crossed the river into West Conway as twilight settled softly over the town. Gunmetal clouds billowed in from the west and a stiff March wind lashed the barren trees, carrying with it the scent of a looming storm. Both rolled up their windows. Just beyond the bridge stood three taverns, popular with truckers and the local mill workers: The Shamrock Bar and Grill, Arnie’s Ale House, and across the road, Gambelli’s, nestled in a stand of short-leaf pine. Their garish neon signs flashed eerie reflections on the surface of the river. To Andy and Dick, the bars were part of the landscape, but some of the locals, especially those who wanted a dry parish, thought they were a blight on the town. Even at Tulane, the boys had heard the gossip; a police car with its spinning light bars parked in front of the Shamrock or Arnie’s on any given night, resulting in an arrest for disorderly conduct, even assault and battery. Rumors of illegal activity, including bookmaking and prostitution, floated down Main Street, into the quiet, tree-lined neighborhoods. The boys crossed the bridge, when a Ford pickup, without lights, pulled out of the parking lot in front of the Shamrock, made a wide right-hand turn, and looped into the far lane. Andy veered fast, but too late. The cab of the truck slammed the Malibu across the pavement and down a grassy slope, rolling over and landing on its roof in a shallow swale. People ran from the taverns when they heard the collision and a crowd had gathered by the time an ambulance from Nabors’ Funeral Home arrived. A Sheriff’s Deputy, his siren blaring, skidded to a stop in the loose gravel on the shoulder of the road. The Deputy ran down the embankment; Dick had been thrown from the car. He was unconscious but his pulse was strong and regular. Not so Andy, pinned in the driver’s seat, compressed by the dented roof. The door had jammed and no one could free him until a wrecker righted the car. While the Deputy called for help, Johnny Nabors knelt down next to Andy’s window. Lightning streaked overhead and a cold rain began to fall. He reached through the broken glass and checked the pulse in the boy’s neck. Fearful, he checked again. There was none. Johnny stood up and leaned on the overturned car, letting his tears mingle with the rain.