me,” he said, then swallowed hard. “Why don’t you just fuck yourself instead?”
With a roar that set three sparrows in the rafters to flight, Mountain wrenched away. He had never tried to force someone who had given in yet refused to give up. And that one small distinction made Jack every bit as mighty as the bigger man.
“St. Bride.”
Jack turned, his arms folded across his chest-partly to make him look relaxed and partly because he needed to keep himself from falling apart.
“I don’t need you when there’s a hundred others I can have,” Mountain blustered. “I’m letting you go.”
But Jack didn’t move. “I’m leaving,” he said slowly. “There’s a difference.”
The black man’s head inclined just the slightest bit, and Jack nodded in response. They walked out of the barn into the blinding sunlight, the foot of space between them as inviolable as a stone wall.
Mountain Felcher’s sentence for burglary ended three months later. That night, in the common room, there was a buzz of interest. Now that Mountain was gone, the program lineup was up for grabs. “There’s hockey on, you moron,” an inmate cried out.
“Yeah, and your mother’s the goalie.”
The footsteps of the guard on duty echoed as he hurried down the hall toward the raised voices. Jack closed the book he was reading and walked to the table where the two men threw insults like javelins. He reached down and plucked the remote from one’s hand, settled himself in the seat just beneath the TV, and turned on Jeopardy!
This Hindi word for prince is derived from Rex, latin for King.
From the back of the room, an inmate called out: “What is Raja?”
The two countries with the highest percentage of Shiite Muslims.
“What are Iran and Saudi Arabia!” Aldo said, taking the chair beside Jack.
The man who had wanted to watch hockey sank down behind them. “What are Iran and Iraq,” he corrected. “What are you, stupid?”
The guard returned to his booth. And Jack, who held the remote control on his thigh like a scepter, knew every answer by heart.
Late March 2000
Salem Falls,
New Hampshire
E very day for the past three weeks, Jack had awakened in Roy Peabody’s guest room and looked out the window to see Stuart Hollings-a diner regular-walking his Holstein around the town green for a morning constitutional. The old man came without fail at 5:30 A.M., a collar fitted around the placid animal, who plodded along like a faithful puppy.
This morning, when Jack’s alarm clock went off, he looked out to see a lone car down Main Street, and puddles of mud that lay like lakes. Scanning the green, he realized Stuart and his animal were nowhere to be seen.
Shrugging, he grabbed a fresh T-shirt and boxers-the result of a Wal-Mart shopping spree he’d gone on with his first paycheck-and stepped into the hall.
Coming out of the bathroom, Roy startled when he saw Jack. “Aw, Christ,” he said, doing a double take. “I dreamed you died.”
“That must have been awful.”
Roy walked off. “Not as awful as it felt just now when I realized it wasn’t true.”
Jack grinned as he went into the bathroom. When he’d moved in it was immediately clear that it had been some time since Roy had had a roommate . . . unlike Jack, who had eight months of practice living among other men. Consequently, Roy did what he could to keep Jack from thinking this was truly his home. He made Jack buy his own groceries-even ketchup and salt-and mark them with his initials before putting them into the refrigerator or the cupboard. He hid the television remote control, so that Jack couldn’t just sit on the couch and flip through the channels. All this might have begun to wear on Jack, if not for the fact that every morning when he came into the kitchen to find Roy eating his cereal, the old man had also carefully set a place for Jack.
Before joining Roy for breakfast, Jack glanced out the window.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.” Jack pulled out his chair
With a roar that set three sparrows in the rafters to flight, Mountain wrenched away. He had never tried to force someone who had given in yet refused to give up. And that one small distinction made Jack every bit as mighty as the bigger man.
“St. Bride.”
Jack turned, his arms folded across his chest-partly to make him look relaxed and partly because he needed to keep himself from falling apart.
“I don’t need you when there’s a hundred others I can have,” Mountain blustered. “I’m letting you go.”
But Jack didn’t move. “I’m leaving,” he said slowly. “There’s a difference.”
The black man’s head inclined just the slightest bit, and Jack nodded in response. They walked out of the barn into the blinding sunlight, the foot of space between them as inviolable as a stone wall.
Mountain Felcher’s sentence for burglary ended three months later. That night, in the common room, there was a buzz of interest. Now that Mountain was gone, the program lineup was up for grabs. “There’s hockey on, you moron,” an inmate cried out.
“Yeah, and your mother’s the goalie.”
The footsteps of the guard on duty echoed as he hurried down the hall toward the raised voices. Jack closed the book he was reading and walked to the table where the two men threw insults like javelins. He reached down and plucked the remote from one’s hand, settled himself in the seat just beneath the TV, and turned on Jeopardy!
This Hindi word for prince is derived from Rex, latin for King.
From the back of the room, an inmate called out: “What is Raja?”
The two countries with the highest percentage of Shiite Muslims.
“What are Iran and Saudi Arabia!” Aldo said, taking the chair beside Jack.
The man who had wanted to watch hockey sank down behind them. “What are Iran and Iraq,” he corrected. “What are you, stupid?”
The guard returned to his booth. And Jack, who held the remote control on his thigh like a scepter, knew every answer by heart.
Late March 2000
Salem Falls,
New Hampshire
E very day for the past three weeks, Jack had awakened in Roy Peabody’s guest room and looked out the window to see Stuart Hollings-a diner regular-walking his Holstein around the town green for a morning constitutional. The old man came without fail at 5:30 A.M., a collar fitted around the placid animal, who plodded along like a faithful puppy.
This morning, when Jack’s alarm clock went off, he looked out to see a lone car down Main Street, and puddles of mud that lay like lakes. Scanning the green, he realized Stuart and his animal were nowhere to be seen.
Shrugging, he grabbed a fresh T-shirt and boxers-the result of a Wal-Mart shopping spree he’d gone on with his first paycheck-and stepped into the hall.
Coming out of the bathroom, Roy startled when he saw Jack. “Aw, Christ,” he said, doing a double take. “I dreamed you died.”
“That must have been awful.”
Roy walked off. “Not as awful as it felt just now when I realized it wasn’t true.”
Jack grinned as he went into the bathroom. When he’d moved in it was immediately clear that it had been some time since Roy had had a roommate . . . unlike Jack, who had eight months of practice living among other men. Consequently, Roy did what he could to keep Jack from thinking this was truly his home. He made Jack buy his own groceries-even ketchup and salt-and mark them with his initials before putting them into the refrigerator or the cupboard. He hid the television remote control, so that Jack couldn’t just sit on the couch and flip through the channels. All this might have begun to wear on Jack, if not for the fact that every morning when he came into the kitchen to find Roy eating his cereal, the old man had also carefully set a place for Jack.
Before joining Roy for breakfast, Jack glanced out the window.
“What are you looking for?”
“Nothing.” Jack pulled out his chair
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