“Brothers in Christ, babe! Us two, we is just brothers, man. Brothers. Hey, you got any of those cans or bottles lyin’ around?”
I settled on Golds. Hers. They matched my monochrome mediocrity. White and featureless, even the butts.
He touched a violent pimple and the skin around it turned darker. The kid closed his eyes. He put his fingers to the inside corners of his eyes, left them there a moment, then scratched the bridge of his nose to give an excuse for the motion. He looked at his reflection again. Now his nose was red.
The grove was at least new country. Open land littered with stunted sagebrush and patches of clumpgrass changed into a dense mess of black cottonwoods, hawthorne, and some sort of lowgrowing bush that kept tying itself around our ankles and tripping us up.
My father pulled out a blindfold and told me to cover my eyes. He said it was the best way to learn. His hands were coarse and sweaty when I took the blindfold, and he was breathing in tight gulps.
My long runs always start at my grandfather’s nursing home.