OCR Text |
Show _:i my father's house/ 356 to find out, to kiss him just once to see if it was real. Then I would never go out with him again. Physical magnetism was nice, but it wasn't enough. I needed someone to talk with. Besides, rumors surrounded him. He had become something of a myth among the boys who hung around the cafe where I worked. I was never sure how to read the narrowed eyes and pinched expressions of the people who spoke of him. Was it fear or respect? And why - what was it that made him so formidable? Someone said he had been in a fight at school and gouged his opponent's eyes out. Another said he had been the leader of a south-side gang, that he had been in and out of refoim school since he was twelve. Others said that he simply had gone to live with his grandfather in Idaho, that his reputation was a lot of stories that someone made up. By the time I had finished the second beer, I was feeling dizzy. My skin felt at once warm and cool, my tongue tingled, and my mind itched sleepily. I lay back against the seat and closed my eyes. I fell asleep and each time we went around a corner, my head rolled and woke me up, again but I fell asleepAalmost as quickly. Once I opened my eyes and stared out the window. The surroundings seemed familiar - the brick retaining wall, the tall walnut trees, the dip and plunge of the hillside. And then I saw the white house, glimpsed it looming dark and empty in the moonlight. I thought I must be dreaming. "I grew up around here," I tried to say. But my words fell garbled in the silence, and I couldn't see his face for the veil of trees which hid the moon. We were in Cheaseman's yard in the grove above the driveway, just across the road from the grey house where I was born. I managed to roll |