Ralph said, "When it rains, I think of Willy" and waved his beer bottle over his head.  It was the first time in months he had mentioned Willy.  Right after the night Willy laid down on the tracks and waited for the train, every time I saw Ralph, his face all big and puffy from crying and too much drink, he would say, "Remember Willy?  You knew him, he was a friend.  I miss him.  I miss Willy.  Do you miss him?  Always remember Willy."

      And I would say, "Yeah", or "I do."  But if I think of him at all I tend to do it on sunny days because he had a grey raincoat he wore no matter what kind of weather it was, and I remember seeing him on the hottest days walking, bent forward, sad or thinking, walking with these huge, giant steps, fast, looking straight ahead, never to the side but not really looking at the ground either, headed through the alley.  I never knew where.

      Or the time on Gregg's bus when Willy was so drunk he kinda rolled sideways, almost like a cartwheel but his feet never left the ground, back and forth, down the aisle.  Then, when we stopped at the gas station to pick up more people he rolled to the front of the bus and crawled out, face first and didn't get up, but crawled off and just lay on the asphalt.  When it was time to leave, his friends picked him up and put him back on the bus.  Gregg said we should leave him there but one of Willy's friends said, "No, we can't leave him here.  The cops will pick him up for sure.  We can't let the cops get him.  At least on the bus he can sleep it off."  Once the bus was on the road again, he rolled to the back of the bus, sat on his knees, clawed at the rear window and howled.  The bus had no seats, but from my chair I could watch him through the bus driver's extra large rearview mirror, howling over the roar of the engine and the radio.  Randy saw me looking toward the mirror and finally said, "Don't worry, Ann, it's all just a show for me.  They say he's jealous because he can play guitar and sing and he's always wanted to perform, but tonight he's going to watch me and he can't stand it.  He wants to be the one on stage but its not his gig."

      Everybody there just ignored Willy unless he tried to talk to them.  The guys sat in a circle in the middle of the bus.  Someone played guitar.  Ron sat up front and told Gregg, who was driving, and I, this long story about how his house had burned down but they wouldn't let him collect the insurance money because they said he was at fault; he had partitioned his house and rented the back half to some people who were cooking crystal back there.  The lab blew up and started a fire.  They said he should have known about it but he didn't.  He never went back there.  He didn't want to intrude.  But they wouldn't give him the insurance money because they said he should have known anyway.  He had all kinds of expensive antiques and he didn't get a cent.

     When we got to the club Willy rolled up to the front and grabbed my ankle and held it just long enough to steady himself and give my grey heel a real hard look, like if it were my hand he would have kissed it, or maybe he was looking for Cinderella.  He dropped my foot and left the bus head first.  I said.  "Oh my God."

      "Don't worry about it, it's only a game", Gregg told me.

      "But how do know?"

      "He didn't land on his face, did he?  He's not that drunk.  He got both arms out in front of him and didn't hurt himself."