Boyd turned his head without raising it and looked at Charlie. “Guess you might as well
know it all. She’s left me, Dad.” The morning hurt returned to Charlie’s chest. Boyd turned his
face back to the sun and closed his eyes. “Said she and Timmy will come back when we have a
place to live. We’re being evicted.” Boyd laughed. “Can’t even live in the car. It’s been
repossessed. After the first, I’m on the street.”
Charlie closed his eyes and turned his face away.
“Fact is her folks can’t pay,” Boyd said. “Sheila’s
on Medicaid.”
Charlie flinched.
“So I wanted to ask . . .” Boyd sat up. “Could you lend me a three or
four thousand? I’ll
pay it back when things pick up.” Boyd wore his crooked smile, but his eyes weren’t smiling.
The wind whispered in Charlie’s ears. He tried to hear its pitches. Instead, he saw Boyd
hunkered on a curb, reaching out his hand.
“Steve knows?” Charlie said.
Boyd studied his boots.
The sun touched the top of the mountain to the west. The valley was black. The shadow
reached toward them. The wind died, and calm settled over the land like a cool hand.
“It’s getting dark,” Boyd said.
When Charlie got to his feet, he realized how tired he was.
“What about the money, Dad?”
“Give me a while to let this sink in.” Charlie shook his head.
“You don’t know, do you?”
He studied the motionless black. “That’s why your mother left me.”
They stumbled down the trail into the shadow. Charlie glanced at the sky. The blue was
turning to the mottled color of ripe peaches. He could hear Boyd’s breathing behind him.
Twilight still hung in the air when they reached the camp. Boyd emptied the backpack of
their lunch trash. Charlie sat at the camp table and listened to the creek.
“Boyd,” Charlie said. “Bring us each a beer and sit for minute.”
Boyd opened the cooler and took out two beers. He sat and handed one to Charlie.
TOM'S TALES