Had not been. Several beer cans and even a pizza box in or near gutters told Kent that the old neighborhood had deteriorated a bit. As has the city, unfortunately.Certainly, the main street has deteriorated, more than "a bit". Three "five-and-tens", long gone; a men's shop, locally owned, also long gone—as are its founders, whose resting places are in the cemetery Kent knew he would visit, for each of his grandparents are buried there. The movie theatre, and he remembered its name, the Bellevue, became "adult entertainment", probably long ago. Cigarette butts and other urban residue near the ticket booth, a booth no longer listing prices, but having on its plexiglass ticket window the "f" word and, probably written by a different hand, the "s" word, all testified that the Bellevue was no longer screening anything—X-rated or otherwise.Of course the street's two butcher shops closed, surely long ago, and even the locally owned department store, which, Kent remembered, hosted Santa. “I just had that shit myself and I was under for two weeks. You think you can get away with just a day? Dream on.”“You’ll see,” I said.“Whatever,” she replied.Now that has to be one of the most annoying words in any language, right? Whatever.Especially when it is said by a teenager as if the true meaning of the word is ‘you’re an idiot and everyone knows it and that’s the end of the discussion. I win’.“Wanna bet?” I said.“Yeah.”“Cool,” I said, and started to pour myself another cup of tea. “For what? The usual?”The usual was just that. The usual stuff that all kids put on the line in a bet like that. I would have to clean her room, and she would have to wash my car. Or she would have to do my laundry and I would have to do her homework. Or something like that.She grimaced. “Boring,” she said. “Let’s make it interesting this time.”“Ok…”“If I win,” she continued, “if you wake up tomorrow and you’re still sick, even just a little…”She paused for a second and gave me a mistrustful look.
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