was ready I opened the back door as quietly as I could and gestured for him to go before me.
"Don't worry about anybody hearing us. When I'm around, no one'11 ever miss you."
"How does that work?"
He brought his two index fingers together and touched the tips. "When you and I are together everything else stops, understand? People, things, the whole works."
I looked down and saw the cat was going out with us. "Everything but Smith."
"Yeah, well, we're going to need him."
Page 33
I looked at young me one foot away, then at Smith. "Why doesn't this disturb me more?"
"Because you knew it was coming a long time ago."
"Because I knew _what _was coming? You're smiling."
"I'm laughing my ass off. Let's go."
*Cat Folding*
A fat white gob of spit landed with a loud splat inches from my foot.
I stared at it and then turned slowly to look at him. I knew exactly what he was doing and why.
"If I knock you out will I feel it?"
His right hand froze bringing the cigarette to his mouth. "Try me, motherfucker. Just try." His voice was all balls and threat. At one time in my history that voice had frightened half the county. Tonight standing there it only made me want to pat him on the head and say now, now, everything's all
right, little fellow. You don't need to spit at me to make your point.
"Remember, Junior, I got the advantage here cause I know both you _and _me.
You only know you--not what you'll be like in thirty years."
He flicked the cigarette away. It bounced far out in the street, throwing up a burst of gold and red sparks. When he spoke his tone had lost the anger and was only unhappiness. "How could you end up like this? I was sitting in that house thinking, `This is it?' This is how it'll be for me?
Yellow chairs with flowers on them and last week's _Time _magazine? Bill Gates. Who the fuck is
Bill Gates? What _happened _to you? What happened to me?"
"You grew up. Things changed. What did you think life would be like when you got older?"
He nodded toward the house. "Not that! Not what you got.
Not _father Knows Best _or _The Andy Griffith Show. _Anything but that."
"What then?"
His voice dropped back down to earth and became dreamy, slow. "I don't know--a nice apartment in the city, maybe. Or out in LA. Shag rugs, white leather furniture, cool stereo. And women--lots and lots of women. But you're married! You married Magda Ostrova, for Christ's sake! Skanky little Magda in the tenth grade."
Page 34
"You don't think she's pretty?"
"She's ... all right. She's a woman. I mean, she's like forty years old!"
"So am I, bro. Older."
"I know. I'm still wrapping my head around that." Looking at the ground, he nodded. "Hey, don't get me wrong--"
"It's all right."
Walking down my street I tried to see my world through his eyes. How different did it look from thirty years ago? What had changed?
Whenever I thought about Crane's View it comforted me that almost nothing ever changed here except some shops downtown and a new house or two. But from his perspective it might have been another world.
Home is where you're most comfortable. But the comfort you know as a teen isn't the same as an adult's. When I was a kid, Crane's View was the diving board that would launch me into the big pool. I jumped up and down on it, checked the springiness, thought about what kind of dive to make. When I was ready, I ran down it and threw myself into the air with all the courage and blind trust I could muster. I was comfortable in the town when I was young because I knew one day I'd be leaving and going on to great things. No doubt about it. Despite the fact I did lousy in school, had a police record and no respect for anyone's rules, I was sure the water into which I'd be jumping would be both welcoming and warm.
"Where's Dad?"
"Died four years ago. He's up in the graveyard if you want to go visit him."
"Did _he _like what's happened to you?"
"Yeah, he was pretty happy with me."
"He thought I was
"Don't worry about anybody hearing us. When I'm around, no one'11 ever miss you."
"How does that work?"
He brought his two index fingers together and touched the tips. "When you and I are together everything else stops, understand? People, things, the whole works."
I looked down and saw the cat was going out with us. "Everything but Smith."
"Yeah, well, we're going to need him."
Page 33
I looked at young me one foot away, then at Smith. "Why doesn't this disturb me more?"
"Because you knew it was coming a long time ago."
"Because I knew _what _was coming? You're smiling."
"I'm laughing my ass off. Let's go."
*Cat Folding*
A fat white gob of spit landed with a loud splat inches from my foot.
I stared at it and then turned slowly to look at him. I knew exactly what he was doing and why.
"If I knock you out will I feel it?"
His right hand froze bringing the cigarette to his mouth. "Try me, motherfucker. Just try." His voice was all balls and threat. At one time in my history that voice had frightened half the county. Tonight standing there it only made me want to pat him on the head and say now, now, everything's all
right, little fellow. You don't need to spit at me to make your point.
"Remember, Junior, I got the advantage here cause I know both you _and _me.
You only know you--not what you'll be like in thirty years."
He flicked the cigarette away. It bounced far out in the street, throwing up a burst of gold and red sparks. When he spoke his tone had lost the anger and was only unhappiness. "How could you end up like this? I was sitting in that house thinking, `This is it?' This is how it'll be for me?
Yellow chairs with flowers on them and last week's _Time _magazine? Bill Gates. Who the fuck is
Bill Gates? What _happened _to you? What happened to me?"
"You grew up. Things changed. What did you think life would be like when you got older?"
He nodded toward the house. "Not that! Not what you got.
Not _father Knows Best _or _The Andy Griffith Show. _Anything but that."
"What then?"
His voice dropped back down to earth and became dreamy, slow. "I don't know--a nice apartment in the city, maybe. Or out in LA. Shag rugs, white leather furniture, cool stereo. And women--lots and lots of women. But you're married! You married Magda Ostrova, for Christ's sake! Skanky little Magda in the tenth grade."
Page 34
"You don't think she's pretty?"
"She's ... all right. She's a woman. I mean, she's like forty years old!"
"So am I, bro. Older."
"I know. I'm still wrapping my head around that." Looking at the ground, he nodded. "Hey, don't get me wrong--"
"It's all right."
Walking down my street I tried to see my world through his eyes. How different did it look from thirty years ago? What had changed?
Whenever I thought about Crane's View it comforted me that almost nothing ever changed here except some shops downtown and a new house or two. But from his perspective it might have been another world.
Home is where you're most comfortable. But the comfort you know as a teen isn't the same as an adult's. When I was a kid, Crane's View was the diving board that would launch me into the big pool. I jumped up and down on it, checked the springiness, thought about what kind of dive to make. When I was ready, I ran down it and threw myself into the air with all the courage and blind trust I could muster. I was comfortable in the town when I was young because I knew one day I'd be leaving and going on to great things. No doubt about it. Despite the fact I did lousy in school, had a police record and no respect for anyone's rules, I was sure the water into which I'd be jumping would be both welcoming and warm.
"Where's Dad?"
"Died four years ago. He's up in the graveyard if you want to go visit him."
"Did _he _like what's happened to you?"
"Yeah, he was pretty happy with me."
"He thought I was
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