time. I managed to stand up and, when Chase lunged for me, I actually moved deftly enough to parry his approach and land on top of him, a technique I’d learned during an intramural wrestling program I had been in the fall before. I pinned Chase down and, for a moment, he couldn’t pull himself free. It had probably been ten
years since I’d been able to exert that much control over him.
“Shit, man, you are getting soft,” I said.
And then I was temporarily airborne before plunging into the river. The water wasn’t particularly deep, no more than four or five feet at the banks, but I was so disoriented that I couldn’t immediately get myself out of it. I flailed a bit and then finally found my footing. When my vision cleared, I saw Chase laughing and then suddenly pulling himself up short. My instinct was to charge him, assuming if nothing else that I could get him wet, but I wasn’t feeling particularly steady on my feet. When I saw Chase put his hand up to his right temple, I did the same, and that’s when I discovered that I was bleeding. I must have hit a rock when I fell into the water.
I’m not sure what my expression said to him, but Chase moved very quickly to action. He lifted me out of the water and laid me down on the shore. I knew enough about these kinds of wounds to know that if I was conscious, I was probably okay, but I still found the amount of blood that I could see very upsetting. Chase pulled off his shirt and tore it into strips to wrap my head, telling me the entire time that I was going to be okay and that he would take care of things. It was the second time that afternoon that his voice seemed out of character, though, since I was shaken up myself, I might not be remembering it accurately.
An hour later, a doctor at the emergency room had stitched and properly bandaged me. A stillshirtless Chase was pretending not to preen for the nurses.
“This is great,” I said to him when they released me. “I look like one of those Revolutionary War musicians and you’re taking phone numbers.”
Chase pretended not to know what I was talking about and reminded me that he wasn’t in the market for phone numbers any longer. I insisted on buying him a T-shirt from the hospital gift shop before we left anyway. While we were there, he picked up a silk rose for Iris, telling me, laughing, that I had screwed up and made him late for his date with her.
The night after Iris left, I stayed with my parents until the end of visiting hours. My father looked tired, but I was guessing that it was largely from being immobile for so long. When my mother and I got back to the house, she made us tea and we sat in the sunroom.
“We really appreciate you looking after the store the last few days,” she said as she opened a package of Oreos. “I guess you have to get back home soon, don’t you?”
“In a couple of days, yeah.”
“This was a lot of time for you to be taking off from work. Will that be okay?”
“I don’t really have to worry about work right now, Mom. I quit a couple of weeks ago.”
My mother looked down at her mug and then took a slow sip. “What was wrong with this one?”
I shrugged. “They just wanted more from me than it made sense for me to give. This place wasn’t meant to be a career.”
“Any prospects?”
“Not really. I haven’t actually been looking. I’m not sure I want to stay in Springfield. There isn’t a lot going on there.”
She studied her tea for several seconds. I wondered if she was looking for a message. Something that would tell Anna Penders how to deal with her perpetually wayward son.
“This isn’t a good time for me to be worrying about you,” is what she said.
“You don’t need to worry about me. When have you ever needed to worry about me? I’ve never once been concerned about finding a way to make money or a place to live. You shouldn’t, either.”
“Of course you haven’t. You’re smart, you’re talented, and you know how
years since I’d been able to exert that much control over him.
“Shit, man, you are getting soft,” I said.
And then I was temporarily airborne before plunging into the river. The water wasn’t particularly deep, no more than four or five feet at the banks, but I was so disoriented that I couldn’t immediately get myself out of it. I flailed a bit and then finally found my footing. When my vision cleared, I saw Chase laughing and then suddenly pulling himself up short. My instinct was to charge him, assuming if nothing else that I could get him wet, but I wasn’t feeling particularly steady on my feet. When I saw Chase put his hand up to his right temple, I did the same, and that’s when I discovered that I was bleeding. I must have hit a rock when I fell into the water.
I’m not sure what my expression said to him, but Chase moved very quickly to action. He lifted me out of the water and laid me down on the shore. I knew enough about these kinds of wounds to know that if I was conscious, I was probably okay, but I still found the amount of blood that I could see very upsetting. Chase pulled off his shirt and tore it into strips to wrap my head, telling me the entire time that I was going to be okay and that he would take care of things. It was the second time that afternoon that his voice seemed out of character, though, since I was shaken up myself, I might not be remembering it accurately.
An hour later, a doctor at the emergency room had stitched and properly bandaged me. A stillshirtless Chase was pretending not to preen for the nurses.
“This is great,” I said to him when they released me. “I look like one of those Revolutionary War musicians and you’re taking phone numbers.”
Chase pretended not to know what I was talking about and reminded me that he wasn’t in the market for phone numbers any longer. I insisted on buying him a T-shirt from the hospital gift shop before we left anyway. While we were there, he picked up a silk rose for Iris, telling me, laughing, that I had screwed up and made him late for his date with her.
The night after Iris left, I stayed with my parents until the end of visiting hours. My father looked tired, but I was guessing that it was largely from being immobile for so long. When my mother and I got back to the house, she made us tea and we sat in the sunroom.
“We really appreciate you looking after the store the last few days,” she said as she opened a package of Oreos. “I guess you have to get back home soon, don’t you?”
“In a couple of days, yeah.”
“This was a lot of time for you to be taking off from work. Will that be okay?”
“I don’t really have to worry about work right now, Mom. I quit a couple of weeks ago.”
My mother looked down at her mug and then took a slow sip. “What was wrong with this one?”
I shrugged. “They just wanted more from me than it made sense for me to give. This place wasn’t meant to be a career.”
“Any prospects?”
“Not really. I haven’t actually been looking. I’m not sure I want to stay in Springfield. There isn’t a lot going on there.”
She studied her tea for several seconds. I wondered if she was looking for a message. Something that would tell Anna Penders how to deal with her perpetually wayward son.
“This isn’t a good time for me to be worrying about you,” is what she said.
“You don’t need to worry about me. When have you ever needed to worry about me? I’ve never once been concerned about finding a way to make money or a place to live. You shouldn’t, either.”
“Of course you haven’t. You’re smart, you’re talented, and you know how
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