“No, I didn’t look it up,” I said.
“YOU SEE?” he said. “THERE ACTUALLY ARE A FEW FREEBODYS—BUT NO ‘BUSTER,’” he said.
“Maybe ‘Buster’ is just a nickname,” I said—with more interest now.
“NONE OF THE FREEBODYS I SPOKE WITH HAD EVER HEARD OF A ‘BUSTER,’” said Owen Meany. “AND THE OLD PEOPLE’S HOMES WON’T RELEASE A LIST OF NAMES—DO YOU KNOW WHY?” he asked me.
“Why?” I asked him.
“BECAUSE CRIMINALS COULD USE THE NAMES TO FIND OUT WHO’S NO LONGER LIVING AT HOME. IF THE SAME NAME IS STILL IN THE PHONE BOOK—AND IF THE HOUSE OR THE APARTMENT HASN’T BEEN REOCCUPIED—THEN THE CRIMINALS HAVE FOUND AN EASY PLACE TO ROB: NOBODY HOME. THAT’S WHY THE OLD PEOPLE’S HOMES DON’T GIVE OUT ANY NAMES,” he said. “INTERESTING, HUH? IF IT’S TRUE,” he added.
“You’ve been busy,” I said; he shrugged.
“AND THE LISTINGS IN THE YELLOW PAGES—THOSE PLACES THAT OFFER ‘LIVE MUSIC,’” he said. “NOT ONE OF THOSE PLACES IN ALL OF BOSTON HAS EVER HEARD OF A BIG BLACK BUSTER FREEBODY! IT WAS SO LONG AGO, BUSTER FREEBODY MUST BE DEAD.”
“I’d hate to see your phone bill,” I told him.
“I USED HESTER’S PHONE,” he said.
“I’m surprised she didn’t beat the shit out of you for that,” I said.
“SHE DID,” Owen said; he turned his face away from the glowing light of the TV. “I WOULDN’T TELL HER WHAT THE PHONE CALLS WERE ABOUT, AND SHE THOUGHT I HAD ANOTHER GIRLFRIEND.”
“Why don’t you have another girlfriend?” I asked him; he shrugged again.
“SHE DOESN’T BEAT ME UP ALL THE TIME,” Owen said.
What could I say? I didn’t even have a girlfriend.
“We ought to think about our trip,” I said to him. “We’ve got thirty days coming up—where do you want to go?”
“SOMEWHERE WARM,” said Owen Meany.
“It’s warm everywhere—in June,” I reminded him.
“I’D LIKE TO GO WHERE THERE ARE PALM TREES,” Owen said.
We watched Moon over Miami for a while, in silence.
“We could drive to Florida,” I said.
“NOT IN THE PICKUP,” he said. “THE PICKUP WOULDN’T MAKE IT TO FLORIDA.”
“We could take my Volkswagen,” I said. “We could drive to California in the Beetle—no problem.”
“BUT WHERE WOULD WE SLEEP?” Owen asked me. “I CAN’T AFFORD MOTELS.”
“Grandmother would lend us the money,” I said.
“I’VE TAKEN ENOUGH MONEY FROM YOUR GRANDMOTHER,” he said.
“Well, I could lend you the money,” I said.
“IT’S THE SAME MONEY,” said Owen Meany.
“We could take a tent—and sleeping bags,” I said. “We could camp out.”
“I’VE THOUGHT OF THAT,” he said. “IF WE CARRY A LOT OF CAMPING STUFF, WE’D BE BETTER OFF IN THE PICKUP—BUT THE PICKUP WOULD DIE ON US, ON A TRIP OF THAT DISTANCE.”