Read Online Original Sins by Lisa Alther - Free Book Online Page B

day an acned older boy named Wayne who lived in a house on his paper route invited him inside to see his stamp albums. Raymond had been so enchanted by the huge books filled with colorful stamps from dozens of countries that he scarcely noticed Wayne’s hand moving gently but firmly in his pants. He went back often, at first for the stamps Wayne gave him, but soon for the pleasure of his touch and his talk—about other parts of the country his family had lived in. His father, a car salesman, was always on the road in search of a better job. When Wayne moved away, they kissed with tears running down their faces. Wayne presented Raymond with his best album. Raymond hadn’t realized until a couple of years later when boys at school began giggling and whispering about homos and queers and faggots that what he and Wayne had done was something to be ashamed of.
    Along another wall were shelves filled with his camera equipment—lenses, portable lights, tins of film. He worked for the newspaper. He’d also placed a few pictures with magazines and newspapers in New York City. He had always taken the family photos—endlessly rearranging people and backdrops until everyone lost patience and dispersed. The money from his paper route he used to buy sophisticated cameras and lenses.
    He suspected his stamp collection, his photography, had a lot to do with his not making junior varsity football his freshman year. Too small, Coach Clancy said. Try again when he reached his growth. Three years later he was still short and skinny, with that ox of a younger brother to rub it in all the time. Coach Clancy had a huge chest and narrow hips. Destined for lower back pain in late middle age. Veins stood out on his red face. “Yall seniors is good students, but that’s about it. It’s all most of you’uns can do to stand up on two feet. Tatro over there, he slouches around here all doubled over like a dog trying to hump a football.” Everybody cracked up. They’d been calling him the Ball Banger ever since. That was their idea of a good joke. Ha ha. Coach Clancy was wrong, though: Raymond wasn’t a good student. An “underachiever,” the guidance counselor called him. Did well on tests but had lousy grades.
    Well, it figured. Jed got cheered for smashing heads. Him, he got called names for trying to stay out of the way and mind his own business. He sometimes thought he and Jed, by unspoken agreement, had laid claims to noncompeting areas. In any physical confrontation, Jed could beat him to a pulp, so he learned to fight with his tongue, mocking people, usually without their knowing it. Sometimes he felt like a gnat buzzing around a lion, just out of reach of its paws, driving it to distraction. But Jed had certainly claimed the more prestigious area in terms of living in Newland. Raymond couldn’t help but be aware of the pride in his parents’ eyes when their neighbors came over and said, “Some boy, your Jed. Did you see that tackle on the two-yard line against Chattanooga?” His parents had fifty-yard-line seats at the stadium for home games and drove all over the state to away games. They were outraged when Raymond began playing chess on Friday nights. “Your own brother, and you won’t even go see him!” his mother shrieked.
    â€œI see him all the time,” Raymond pointed out. “Much more than I want to.” Recently they’d given up, gazing at him glumly as they left the house with their cushions, blanket, and thermos.
    Raymond sometimes imagined the town gathered in the football stadium while he stood on the fifty-yard line and flipped through Natural History magazine showing his full-color spread on Appalachian wild flowers. Sally Prince would bound out and lead the crowd in spelling out “Trillium.” Everyone would roar with admiration …
    Alongside his bed hung several of his favorite pictures—the weathered faces and hands