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Show house/ 384 Our favorite pastime was talking over cups of coffee in a restaurant down the street from our highschool. When he worked weekends unloading his brother's diesel van, I met him at midnight at a truck stop where we ate Chinese food and yawned. As we drove home through quiet streets, it often seemed we were the only two people in the world. We were content to feel that way. "Most of my problems stem from other people," Brian said one night. "If it wasn't for other people, I wouldn't have problems." I nodded. It was the same with me. I thought him amazingly profound. "We should live aClone - on a desert island," I said. "That'd be fine, as long as we had a radio," he said. We spent much of our time driving around the valley. Brian loved to drive. "What will you do when we graduate?" he asked one spring night as we cruised through the dark mountains above the valley. "Go to college." I spoke surely. Of all the things in my life, only the dream that Saul had given me of 'making something of myself seemed to have survived. Brian said nothing, but I thought that his profile, etched in dashlight, had hardened. "What's wrong?" "I don't know. I was hoping you had something e-lse in mind." "Like what?" " L i k e . . . g e t t i n g married." I f e l t he had thrown a wet sheet over my head. "Brian - we're so young. How would we l i v e ? What would you do?" |