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Show Why We Cry Butch and Fenn Stories 150 "That's a great party idea, Mrs. Aikens," I say, hoping she'll just hand me the soda and let me go. "I certainly wouldn't have thought of that." "Yes, well, a good party starts with good planning!" Finally, she awards me the creme soda and we step back into the kitchen, and I'm able to fade out into the backyard. Linda Aikens is in the corner of the patio, fiddling with her hi-fi. She has a wire rack full of 45's, and she's arranging and rearranging them. "Hi Linda." "Larry!" She turns to smile at me. There's a record on every one of her fingers. "Oh, I'm glad you came." And you know, the way she says it is right: she means it. She's parted her dark hair in a new way, right down the middle, real tight and shiny, and the rest of her hair is pinned up in two braids. She kind of looks like Heidi in the movie. I hold up my soda. "In the washer. You want one?" "No, I want to get the records ready. Will you dance with me later?" The backyard is hard to figure out. There is another lamp post on one side gathering bugs in a busy halo, above four wrought iron chairs and instead of a fence, a tall hedge surrounds the whole thing. The lawn is great; it just makes you want to practice a few slides. They're not storing anything out here, any lumber, a wheelbarrow or even an old boat, and it |