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Show 26 a movie on the outside ledge of an eighteen-story building, across the front of the house. After that, I quietly pulled the garbage can over to my neighbor's eight foot stone wall, turned it upside down, pulled myself first onto the garbage can, and then up onto the wall. I have a slight but erratic fear of even minimal heights and anyway this was the climax to my escape so I took a second to make sure I had my composure so I didn't hurt myself rushing down to the other side. In front of me I could see Alan's van idling and behind it the empty street running up to the intersection with State Street, an alien green glow from the stop light up there lighting the empty street like moon on water. Behind me was my father's yellow living room study light. I whispered out loud, "One, two, three. One, two three..." until I was ready, then I kicked off my feet and jumped. While Alan was in Brazil, everyone's Saturday nights splintered and moved in different directions. Sometimes we would listen to music or play video games in Charles' practice shed until we got bored, or we would walk around Charles' neighborhood. But there were a lot of bored dogs in that area and it was intense to hear their ominous dog collars clinking in the shadows knowing something is about to rash at you and bark. Alan wrote us letters at first, especially while he was in the Missionary Training Center, talking about how badly he missed us and music and his girlfriend Sasha, but said he felt he was probably doing the right thing. I was always anxious to read those letters. My mission age was coming up in three years, and I wasn't sure-out of both willingness and worthiness- if I would be able to go. I was leaning toward no. I |