had given his son on his last birthday. As he continued to look at his reflection, he muttered to himself, "Walks just like me … looks like me too … he likes that car too … damn, I'm glad."
"Don't let those gals kidnap you," Le Claire yelled.
"I won't … bye."
"Bye." Le Claire smiled, but his eyes remained opaque and expressionless. "Have fun."
Carol Le Claire came to the door in time to see the car disappearing down the street. "Where's Gay going?" she questioned.
"Got a hot date."
"A date?" she questioned. "With whom?"
"I didn't ask." Le Claire turned and looked at her gratefully. He kissed her, and circling her waist with his arms said, "He's gone to a dance. You know, honey, that boy's okay. You did a good job of raising him. I wish I could have had more time with him, but you did okay." He held her closer to him. "You know, Carol, I think I finally bought him something he likes. He's crazy about that car."
After a while they walked arm in arm into the house. Through the vestibule, they strolled to the living room. Le Claire returned to his paper, and sank into the large chair in an excess of stupefied pleasure, still thinking with joy of his last glimpse of Gaylord, handsome in his simple sport shirt, dark hair in place, smiling up at him from inside the car. It was a perfectly satisfying picture, and he had no way of knowing that in his car Gaylord was crouched, shivering and afraid.
Carol Le Claire also sat down remembering a dance she had gone to some seventeen years ago. I hope he doesn't fall in love the way I did, she found herself thinking … I don't want to share him with anyone just yet … I guess I'm selfish, but I want him for myself a little while longer … I love him so much.
