A Bit of Nostalgia

-I’m looking for someone named Liam.
-Don’t know any Liam.
He begins scratching his ass. Casually. The way some people play with their hair or draw pyramids when they talk on the phone.
-He used to live at this address. Maybe you know where they might have moved.
-Lady and a kid.  
-Right.  
-Back in ’02.  Kid was maybe thirteen.  William or something.  
-Or something. Remember a last name?  
-Monaghan.  You a bill collector?
-Nah.  My grandparents live next door.
-Yeah? How’s his hip treatin’ him?
-Not like an old friend. Listen. They didn’t leave anything when they moved, did they?
-Just the keys and a busted toilet.  
-No boxes, huh?
-Didn’t seem like the kind of people had anything to toss in boxes, way I remember it.  
-Yeah.
-She was moving in with her boyfriend.  Guy worked at Jack & Jill.  
-Like the ice cream?  
-Yeah. Said she was finally getting’ her just desserts.  Hand to God, that’s what she said.  
-Remember the guy’s name?  
-Sorry.  
-It was a long time ago.    
-So. What was in it?  
-In the box?
-In the box, sure.
-Just some old comics.  
-They still make those?
-They do.  But these were old.  From the 80s mostly.
He stops scratching his ass for a moment.   
-Worth anything?   
-Only to me.  
-Haven’t seen ‘em.
He resumes his scratching.
-And if they had been worth something? Would you maybe have seen them then?  
-Don’t even know your name, pal.  You accusing me of extortion?  
-Guess not.  
-Guess not.  
-Mow your lawn.  Place looks like shit.  
-Fuck off.  
-Good advice.  Stand here any longer and I’m bound to get Lyme disease.
He moves to slam the door and I catch it. The guy had never given the old coots any problems. He was alright.    
-Keep an eye on ‘em for me, yeah?    
I withdraw my hand and the screen door slaps shit.  He disappears into the dim apartment.  I cross over the driveway, checking my arm for ticks.