"What?" I said to old Phoebe. She said something to me, but I didn't hear her. "You can't even think of one thing." "Yes, I can. Yes, I can." "Well, do it, then." "I like Allie," I said. "And I like doing what I'm doing right now. Sitting here with you, and talking, and thinking about stuff, and--" "Allie's dead--You always say that! If somebody's dead and everything, and in Heaven, then it isn't really--" "I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him, though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake-- especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all." Old Phoebe didn't say anything. When she can't think of anything to say, she doesn't say a goddam word. "Anyway, I like it now," I said. "I mean right now. Sittin