Read Online I'd Walk with My Friends If I Could Find Them by Jesse Goolsby - Free Book Online

stands.
    â€œLittle smoke ’cause there’s no green on it,” his father says, stepping close. “Always pick dead ones.”
    Only then does Armando notice the tree next to him. It’s largely limbless save a few dead branches near the top.
    â€œI’ll do this one,” his father says. “Now listen. You just burn one. I got too cocky. Out of control.”
    He steps to the snag and pours gasoline over the bottom two feet of the tree.
    â€œWow,” he says. “Yeah. That’s the smell.” He pinches a match and holds it in his left hand between his thumb and index finger.
    Armando stares in wonderment. “They’ll see the smoke,” he says.
    â€œGetting dark, son.” His father shakes his head. “And there’s no
they.
”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œMost of the law is good, but some of it’s shit.” He shakes out his arms. “You already know that. You may think different, and I don’t care. Just never say I didn’t know what I was doing. You understand? Don’t ever say that.” He points the match at his son’s chest. “That’s the worst thing you can say about someone, that they don’t know what they’re doing. Doesn’t matter how old. We should hang kids that kill people. They know enough.” He pauses and examines the unlit match. “If you have a drink, that’s fine. Your mother will wake up and disagree.”
    â€œI try things.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œSome things.”
    â€œAlways believe in God. You’ll be tempted. People believe in gravity. No one knows what the hell it is. There’s no difference.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œBe suspicious of Jesus. No one understands what’s going on there.”
    His father strikes the match on the side of the box and cups the miniflame. Armando’s head buzzes, and he steps forward.
    â€œCan I?” he asks, but his father ignores him, and Armando sees his father’s mouth move, but no sound emerges. His father flicks the match at the base of the tree and the flame catches and climbs. The tree lights up quick—a twenty-foot torch.
    Armando can’t find words to say, but in his mind many cartwheel by:
beautiful, free, power, hot, trouble, crime, glorious, God, coma, dead, Marie, prison, run.
    Then his father’s voice.
    â€œShe said I was a slob or something. Things go back and forth, then you dig up the good stuff, and I end up calling her an über-bitch. So she says she’s going to stay at her sister’s in Cortez. Fine. ‘Good,’ I say. And she gathers her stuff, her priceless diploma. Gets in the car. All ready to go. But she sits out there forever. She’s not crying. Not doing anything. Just sitting. Not even touching the wheel. Finally she comes in. ‘It’s Sunday,’ she says. ‘Can’t spend money on gas on Sunday.’ That’s it. She stays.”
    â€œMom?”
    â€œCan’t spend money on Sunday? Can’t live like that, man. Don’t talk about it.” He takes a step toward the fire.
    â€œAnd they say I killed a man. Bull. He killed himself. Intent matters. We pay people to kill. We give them awards. We call people heroes because they get shot down trying to bomb people. How does that make you a hero? You survive the Hanoi Hilton and you’re a hero? You firebomb Dresden or Tokyo and you’re a hero? Ask about LeMay.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou need to know I’ve never killed anyone. Doesn’t make sense. Why would I do that?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t.”
    â€œGo,” he says. “I want you to go.”
    Armando doesn’t move, still mesmerized. His father walks over to him and gently squeezes his neck.
    â€œGet in the car,” his father says. “I’ll see you at home. I mean it.” He turns his son to face him and smiles.
    â€œDad, I don’t have a license.”
    â€œIt’s