Read The Memory of Running for Free Online Page B

I was going! Ha, ha, ha. I thought it was a corkscrew! Ha, ha, ha.
     Us? We came on the train! Ha, ha, ha. I walked past Polly Sutter out a side door and into
     the parking lot.
    The East Providence air was damp but cool, with just a hint of the Rumford Chemical Works
     one town over. I lit a cigarette, opened the Buicks door, and took a quart of Narragansett
     Lager out of the small cooler Id brought. It was very cold, and I drank it right out of
     the bottle. I finished it quickly, unscrewed another quart, and lit an- other cigarette. I
     took another long swallow of Rhode Islands fine lager beer and sat back. Its hard
     sometimes to think. The cigarette is just a lightness now. My pop said he smoked for the
     taste. Theres a lightness for me, then a little sting, but really no taste to it. I like a
     lot of beer. Or if not a lot of beer, then beer with maybe some bour- bon. I had some
     small airplane bottles of Ten High I bought on sale at Roses liquor store. I kept them
     under the Buicks seat. I dont think a person should drink and drive, and of course say no
     to drugs. I opened one of the airplane bottles and drank it. Sipped it, really, I sip the
     bourbon. Beer is more or less drunk; bourbon gets sipped. I sipped it all down, and then I
     sipped a couple more.
    You know how things get quiet when its an odd time? Thats what it was in the parking lot.
     It was a quiet that was a thing all by it-
    self. I remember the night I got so hurt in the army. Me and this Puerto Rican kid were
     sitting on a stump at the edge of this swampy place where the company commander had
     insisted our platoon set up for the night. It was loud, like the bugs had drums and horns.
     Loud enough that even if you could have fallen asleepand we never slept out there at
     nightbut even if you could have, you couldnt. So I had to pee and started to pee in such a
     way that it went into the swampy water, andthis is truethe bugs and the things that were
     crawling around all over the swamp, not just where we were, went quiet. That exact same
     quiet that was, like I said, a thing, a solid thing.
    The Puerto Rican kids name was Orlando Cepeda, same as the baseball player. He got shot
     dead right away, no time for crying or anything. What happened was they heard me peeing.
     They picked it up, and they all just started firing everything in the general direction of
     my pee. I got seven different kinds of slugs of the sixteen the doc- tor took from my
     thigh and my butt and my chest. I get nervous when it goes very quiet. Its hard to
     explain, but if I had to sum it up, Id say that when it gets very quiet, I always feel
     like Ive done some- thing bad.
    I put the cigarette out and screwed on the Gansett lid. Id have to pee soon, but I knew I
     could use Polly and her brothers toilet. That quiet kept coming like a wave. I stepped
     away from the Buick and looked at Aunt Paula and Count through the window. People kept
     coming. People kept up the funeral line. My collar was tight, my thoughts werent clear,
     and my mouth got so dry. My mouth gets so dry sometimes.
    Smithy, she called, and it scared me. I swung around slowly to where Bethany held a pose
     in the farthest corner of the parking lot. Her black hair blew gently in the night air.
     Her arms above her head and fingers splayed to the first stars.
    Smithy, she called again. Im here. Hooks here.
    Im behind you.
    I started to turn, then turned back to Bethany. But Bethany had become the little maple
     tree in the farthest corner and her black hair blowing, only night leaves. Its true. It
     happens. I have followed her down rivers and seen her on hospital ceilings. Its the
     clearness of it that bothers me, and yet its the clearness that doesnt. I see her. I see
     her arms and fingers and heavy hair, but its a ghost thats young and true. Sometimes I
     watch myself ride my Raleigh to her. Sometimes I watch my own tears in the dark.
    Smithy?
    I turned around.