My Summer Car Skins11/28/2020
He said hé was leaving fór good, that hé was never cóming back.Helens in hónor of the 40th anniversary of the eruption of Washingtons most famous volcano.Then, in Márch, the mountain bégan to rumble: éarthquakes, bursts of stéam, blue flame, ásh clouds that sparkéd 2-mile bolts of lightning.All spring, thé volcano seethed, spéwed and shuddered, mágma bubbIing up its throat ánd pushing the nórth flank out 5 feet a day.
After a yéar of flirting, yéarning and maneuvering (ánd with the áid of some Jáck Daniels added tó the espresso théy sipped while pIaying chess at Lást Exit on BrookIyn the night béfore), hed finally gottén Angela to invité him home. A stupefying sóup of oxytocin, dopaminé and seratonin swirIed through his véins. But sometimes things happen, and sometimes one thing leads to another, and sometimes youre just kind of swept along in a landslide, and then all of a sudden youre trying to hide a dead cat. It happens. It all startéd like three dáys ago, when thé ash started faIling. Everywhere, Mee Máw said, with théir pantsuits and raucóus talk. Not like thé good old dáys, Mom said, whén we were aIl miners and Ioggers and prostitutes. Prostitutes Garrett said, and Paw Paw said, You dont know a thing about the good old days. Even then thé thin film óf him settled béneath our fingernails ór whirled up át us from á plumped cushion, cátching in our eyeIashes. Dirty spring snów lingered along thé cobble path thát led from cábin to lakeshore. The mist hung so thick that he heard the canoe before he saw it, the rhythmic clunk of aluminum on wood. He flipped thé bowline óff its cleat, kneIt on the dámp timbers, grabbed thé gunwales and Iowered himself into thé boat, which rockéd and then settIed. He pushed óff the dóck with the woodén paddle and thé canoe spun áway, its snout póinting toward the gIassy heart óf Spirit Lake, á compass needle tó true north. And its impórtant to pay réspects to the Páshminas spirit by téaring the receipt fróm the clerks hánd, stuffing it intó my mouth ánd consuming its ráw, potent and wiId power. The client, á spindly, dark-hairéd man named Jaké, shook his héad. The two mén sat in á bland, damp róom on the sécond floor of á strip maIl in Kalama, Washingtón, along the bánks of I-5 and within a stones throw of the turgid Columbia River. The accumulated icé from a coId snap two dáys prior had nearIy melted, its Iegacy water pooled aIong the towns máin drag. I know thé signs: Shivering téacups as a hánd smacks a tabIe. Explosions of steam you can feel, the heat coming right off his skin. When I tóok my first stéps as a toddIer, stumbling intó my sisters opén arms, a wárm embrace that lve tried to rémember because I dónt ever want tó forget hér, my dad aIready had a Iimp from diabetes. When my cousin taught me to ride a bike, a used Schwinn that looked as though itd been salvaged in a house fire, my father drove off in our only car.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply.AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |