Behind Stiff-Drink-Liquor there was a small pond where three boys were having something of a disagreement. They looked like they were about middle school age, perhaps twelve or thirteen. The two taller boys had ganged up on the third, a stout, husky kid. One of the taller boys held their victim's arms behind his back while the third boy threw clumps of mud at him.
"Let me go!" the victim yelled. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I want to hear you squeal, Danny. I want to hear what kind of barnyard animal you sound like." The bully then chucked a handful of mud at Danny, which barely missed both the victim and the bully's confederate.
"I just want to go home. Let me go home."
The bully was done throwing mud haphazardly. He wanted to get more direct. He picked up a wet clump with both hands and went over to Danny, lifted the boy's shirt up over his belly and started smearing the wet mess all over him. "You get to go home when you squeal. Squeal, or bark, or neigh. I want to know what kind of an animal you are."
Indy could see that the boy, Danny, was about to do it. In his desperation, he was going to give in.
"You boys shouldn't be back here," Indy interrupted.
They all suddenly looked at him with the same surprise, assailant and victim alike.
The boy throwing mud was tall. Clearly, he was a kid who started his growth spurt early and liked the advantage it gave him over all his other classmates. He could, for a time, become a predator without peer.
"Mind your own business, old man!" the tall boy yelled.
"You hurting others is my business."
"Get out of here. We're just playing. Right, Danny. Tell the man we're just playing."
Danny froze. He stood there mute.
"It doesn't look like your friend is having any fun."
"Danny, tell him. Tell him you're fine."
Indy could see fear in Danny's eyes, fear of the two boys but he was also too frightened to speak.
"You," Indy said, indicating the boy holding Danny. He looked like the lackey, the one who just liked following orders because it paradoxically made him feel powerful. But he was weak, and Indy knew it. "Let him go now."
The boy hesitated for a moment before releasing Danny's arms.
"Mike! Don't listen to him."
"I don't know. Let's just play somewhere else," Mike said, sheepishly.
The tall boy marched towards Indy, his face locked in anger. "I told you to get the hell out of—" Indy sent a swift slap across the boy's face. The boy held his cheek as if trying to determine whether this was all real or a dream. The boy lunged at Indy and once again received a sharp slap. Tears started building in his eyes, and he had to concentrate to avoid breaking into sobs.
"Know this: I don't like bullies, I don't care what age. If you start off as a bully as a kid, and no one tells you any better, then you just grow up into a bigger bully. I want you two to know that this is someone telling you it isn't right to hurt others. I've been dealing with—"
"What the hell are you doing!" a woman's voice interrupted Indy's speech. "Did I just see you slap a kid?" She marched toward him with her finger wagging. Shoulder pads in her dress and a perm that formed a halo around her head, like a Russian icon painting, lent her a powerful presence as she made her way to Indy.
"You don't understand. These two were torturing—"
"I don't want to hear excused. You're a grown man. Are you the grandparent of either of these children?" she said in a fast clip.
"Well, no, but—"
"Then that settles it. I'm calling the cops."
"You don't have to do that," Indy said trying to wriggle out of the situation. It took him several more minutes to get her to calm down. He made use of his elderly grandfather voice, which he had perfected over the years. Eventually, the three kids wandered away, making the whole conversation moot. This was enough for the woman to let Indy off with a warning.
When Indy returned to his car, he was surprised to find Danny sitting on the curb in front of Stiff-Drink-Liquors. "You all right, kid?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"Well, I don't want to leave you here alone. Is your mom coming to pick you up?"
"No. I'll walk home."
"Kid, here's a quarter. Go over to that pay phone and call your mom. Let her know where you are and that you're coming home. I'm not leaving you in front of the liquor store all alone. Besides, those two chuckle heads might come back, and I won't be here to defend you."
Indy watched Danny as he walked to the payphone. He seemed to get a hold of someone.
"That your mom on the phone?"
Danny nodded yes.
"Good. Now, can I give you a piece of advice?"
"Sure," he shrugged.
"When you're dealing with bullies, it's always best to first get an adult. It's their job to protect children. But when an adult isn't around or isn't doing what they're supposed to, then you've got to pop one of those bullies in the nose. Not only will it hurt them, but it'll make them cry. A bully can handle pain, but he can't handle humiliation. That's how you take away their power. Got it?"
"I got it," but he seemed little enthused at these bits of wisdom.
"Say, how did you ever get mixed up with those two."
"They asked if I wanted to play."
"And you said yes?"
"I wanted someone to play with."
"You've got to find better friends. What are your interests? What do you like to do?"
"I like Star Trek."
"That space show?" Indy said, having difficulty hiding his disgust.
"It's not just a show. They have movies now. I've seen The Wrath of Khan like eight times. It's amazing!"
Danny seemed genuinely enthused, so Indy figured this was something he could work with. "Somewhere in your school, or at least the county, there's another kid who likes Star Trek. Be friends with that kid, not the ones who want to torture you."
"Okay," he said with a bit more conviction.
"Now, I've got to go. I'm missing the most important baseball game of the year. But find better friends. And maybe expand your interests a little."
By the time Indy got home, he found Marion sitting in front of the game with a boilermaker in one hand. "You're late!" she said. "What took you so long?"
"I got in a fight with some guy in the parking lot of the liquor store and then I beat up a twelve-year-old."
"I genuinely can't tell if you're joking."
"I'll tell you all about it later. What did I miss?"
"Nothing much yet. It's the third inning, and no one has scored yet."
Indy put his six pack in the fridge and returned to the living room, adjusting the TV bunny ears to better fix the picture. It was a constant struggle. The antenna rarely moved, and yet the television screen seemed to always edge away from its ideal image, static appearing and lines edging in. It was like an instrument always meandering slightly out of tune.
"You really think picking up a six pack of beer will help win?" Marion asked.
"After everything I've seen, I think it's a possibility."
"Is Indiana Jones finally going to admit that he believes in things beyond heaven and earth?"
"Indiana Jones the retiree may believe in the supernatural, but Dr. Jones the archeologist is still a man of reason."
"A man of contradictions. I think that's what I always liked about you. Although, you know that St. Louis is the home of Busch Beer. You could have just picked up some down the street."
"That doesn't count. That's too national."
"Sorry. I didn't know there were rules to this superstition of yours."
"If St. Louis wins, then will you at least admit there's something to my beer ritual?"
"I've seen bodies of people burned to death by the actual Ark of the Covenant and interdimensional beings lift off from an ancient ziggurat. But I'm still not ready to sign off on your superstitions."
"It was a pyramid. Ziggurats are in Mesopotamia. And just wait and see," Indy said and then pointed at the television.
Sure enough, in the fourth inning, St. Louis got their first run. But in the next inning, Milwaukee answered back with a homer. At the top of the sixth Milwaukee scored two more times, putting them in the lead.
"It's not looking too good for your superstition."
"The game's not over."
As if St. Louis could hear him, they managed to score three more runs in the sixth inning thanks to two runs on a single while the bases were loaded and then a simple RBI. Milwaukee answered back with two more runs, but they couldn't make up the distance. In fact, St. Louis went on to score two more runs.
"Well, it looks like you did it, Indiana," Marion said. "You won the World Series."
"It's a hollow victory. The game hasn't been the same since the New York Giants moved to California," he said wistfully.
"I know it can be hard to lose a favorite team." She gave him a kiss on his forehead. "I have to go pack for tomorrow's trip."
Indy had long been a fan of baseball. Christy Mathewson was his favorite player in his youth. And unlike football or basketball, baseball maintained its identity. Sure, the game had changed in certain ways—the Bambino started a race for more home runs and Indy still hadn't warmed to the use of designated hitters. But fundamentally, a baseball game today looked the same today as it did when Indy was younger.
And baseball has a history, one that stretched back long before his birth. Watching baseball became a comforting reminder that despite the inevitability of change, some things can persist through the generations.
Indy followed Marion up to the bedroom and stood in the hallway as she methodically folded and placed her outfits into a suitcase. It was hard to explain, but he was struck by how her beauty aged with her. It wasn't as if she maintained her youth, although her prickly edges were still present. It was more like she grew into her age dramatically, like trying on a ballgown. Her brunette hair, which Indy always loved, had now transformed into a shocking white, which was equally beautiful but in a different manner.
"So, how are you getting from the airport to her house?"
"I'm taking a cab."
"She's not even going to pick you up from the airport."
"I'm capable of navigating Los Angeles. I know they say it's dangerous these days, but considering what we went through in Cairo, I'm pretty sure I can handle it."
"It's not about that. I know you can handle it. It's the disrespect. She's not so busy that she can't meet you at the airport."
"I'm okay with it, and since you're not going, I think that's all that matters."
Indy could hear the edge in her voice. "You're still upset that I'm not coming."
"It would be nice to see your goddaughter. I know you two have your differences, but that's no reason to avoid her."
"I'm not avoiding her. I have plenty to do around the house. Those gutters need to be better fastened."
"At your age, I don't think you should be climbing onto the roof to fix the gutters. It's not going to put us out if we call a handyman."
"If I can climb a ladder, then I can fix the gutters."
"But you know this is an excuse, right? The last time you spoke didn't end on good terms, so you've decided to avoid speaking with Helena altogether."
"She can pick up a phone as well."
"You never did forgive her for her career choices."
"She has a brilliant mind. She could memorize and regale you on not only ancient history but the entire historiographic argument about what exactly happened. Her father was brilliant, and she may very well have eclipsed even him. And she goes ahead and works in marketing. It's just so mercenary."
"She's good at advertising, and she likes it."
"She spends her days thinking up new ways to convince kids to buy toys. That's hardly a life full of meaning."
"Won't she be the judge of that? And I believe her most recent account is General Motors."
"That's not much better. Look. I just don't want her to get to the end of her days and realize that she wasted all this time making doll commercials to play on Saturday mornings for kids hopped up on corn puffs."
"You shouldn't judge her just because she's decided not to work in the family business."
"I don't want her to be a professor. Lord knows there's a lot wrong with academia, especially these days. But couldn't she have done something with a bit more substance?"
"Fine. Then talk to her. Maybe she can explain it to you."
"She has our number."
Marion stopped and walked over to Indy. She put her hands on his shoulders. "I don't want you to spend what time you have left upset with each other. I'll talk to Helena, but you have to meet her halfway."
"If she's willing to talk, then so am I."
"I wish you were coming with me."
"I'll be fine."
"Will you? You came home today talking about getting into fights with people, including a kid. What was going on?"
"They started it. Or they were about to start it."
"I know how hard it is for you to stay still. And I understand it. Since you were a kid you've been on the move. But you can keep busy and slow down."
"I'm just going to catch up on some reading and take care of some things around the house. I swear."
"I don't like you being alone. Look, someone started moving into the Roberts house today. I saw moving trucks. Why don't you introduce yourself for the both of us. Welcome them to the neighborhood."
"You want me on welcome duty?"
"Just humor me."
"For you, anything." Indy gave Marion a kiss on the forehead. And then he brought her newly packed suitcase downstairs, right next to the door for tomorrow's trip to the airport.
That night as he laid next to Marion he thought back to their time together, from their first meeting while working with her father, Abner Ravenwood, to when they rediscovered each other for the first time in Nepal. When they found each other once again, decades later, it seemed like their reunion was inevitable, an event fated by the gods, of what religion Indy didn't know.
Even after their marriage, when it seemed time to slow down and fully grow into the stately professor role, the two of them had their adventures. It had been some time since Indy had been in the field, searching for some lost treasure, and he missed it dearly. He missed the sense of purpose, the danger that never left him time to really, truly consider his mortality, even as he feared for his life. Now, it seems like facing his mortality was all that he had left.
