Early Autumn Read Online Free PDF

plate.
    “That’s finger food,” I said. “You don’t have to use your knife and fork.”
    He kept on with the knife and fork. He didn’t sayanything. I didn’t say anything. We finished eating at seven fifteen. We arrived back at his house at seven thirty. I parked and got out of the car with him.
    “I’m not afraid to go in alone,” he said.
    “Me either,” I said. “But it’s never any fun going into an empty house. I’ll walk in with you.”
    “You don’t need to,” he said. “I’m alone a lot.”
    “Me too,” I said.
    We walked to the house together.

CHAPTER 6
    It was Friday night, and Susan Silverman and I were at the Garden watching the Celtics and the Phoenix Suns play basketball. I was eating peanuts and drinking beer and explaining to Susan the fine points of going back door. I was having quite a good time. She was bored.
    “You owe me for this,” she said. She had barely sipped at a paper cup of beer in one hand. There was a lipstick half moon on the rim.
    “They don’t sell champagne by the paper cup here,” I said.
    “How about a Graves?”
    “You want me to get beat up,” I said. “Go up and ask if they sell a saucy little white Bordeaux?”
    “Why is everyone cheering?” she said.
    “Westphal just stuffed the ball backward over his head, didn’t you see?”
    “He’s not even on the Celtics.”
    “No, but the fans appreciate the shot. Besides, he used to be.”
    “This is very boring,” she said.
    I offered my peanuts to her. She took two.
    “Afterwards I’ll let you kiss me,” I said.
    “I’m thinking better of the game,” she said.
    Cowens hit an outside shot.
    “How come most of the players are black?” Susan said.
    “Black man’s game,” I said. “Hawk says it’s heritage. Says there were a lot of schoolyards in the jungle.”
    She smiled and sipped at the beer. She made a face. “How can you drink so much of this stuff?” she said.
    “Practice,” I said. “Years of practice.”
    Walter Davis hit a jump shot.
    “What were you saying before about that boy you found Wednesday? What’s his name?”
    “Paul Giacomin,” I said.
    “Yes,” Susan said. “You said you wanted to talk about him.”
    “But not while I’m watching the ball game.”
    “Can’t you watch and talk at the same time? If you can’t, go buy me something to read.”
    I shelled a peanut. “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s just that I keep thinking about him. I feel bad for him.”
    “There’s a surprise.”
    “That I feel bad for him?”
    “You’d feel bad for Wile E. Coyote,” Susan said.
    Westphal hit a left-handed scoop shot. The Celtics were losing ground.
    “The kid’s a mess,” I said. “He’s skinny. He seems to have no capacity to decide anything. His only firm conviction is that both his parents suck.”
    “That’s not so unusual a conviction for a fifteen-year-old kid,” Susan said. She took another peanut.
    “Yes, but in this case the kid may be right.”
    “Now you don’t know that,” Susan said. “You haven’t had enough time with them to make any real judgment.”
    The Suns had scored eight straight points. The Celtics called time out.
    “Better than you,” I said. “I been with the kid. His clothes aren’t right and they don’t fit right. He doesn’t know what to do in a restaurant. No one’s ever taught him anything.”
    “Well, how important is it to know how to behave in a restaurant?” Susan said.
    “By itself it’s not important,” I said. “It’s just an instance, you know? I mean no one has taken any time with him. No one has told him anything, even easy stuff about dressing and eating out. He’s been neglected. No one’s told him how to act.”
    The Celtics put the ball in play from midcourt. Phoenix stole it and scored. I shook my head. Maybe if Cousy came out of retirement.
    Susan said, “I haven’t met this kid, but I have met a lot of kids. It is, after all, my line of work. You’d be surprised at how