Read Online Return to Oakpine by Ron Carlson - Free Book Online Page B

see it all.” Now he lifted both hands and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. “It’s going to be a mess. I’m going to die out here. My insurance is gone. You’re getting a tough deal. There’s some Medicaid, but I’m going to leave you flat, holding the bag. You’re going to have to call the mortuary, bury me.”
    His mother sat still. She took his hand. “Do you understand this?” he went on. “Do you see that is what is going to happen? If I had a choice, I’d help you somehow, but I’m all out. There’ll be a little money next spring from my books, but still.”
    â€œI’m happy you’re home,” she said. “I can do what I need to do.” They sat. He noticed the sunlight from the window had moved down, onto the floor.
    â€œAre you going to have a ton of zucchini?”
    â€œWe already do. You want to see it?”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “I’ll get dressed in a while. I’d like to see the garden. Tomatoes?”
    â€œAny minute,” she answered.
    â€œI wouldn’t mind a tomato sandwich. I want to count a tomato sandwich in my future.”
    She stood and straightened the covers. “You heard me, right, Jimmy? I can do what I need to do. I’m your mother.”
    â€œThank you,” he said. “I heard it all.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    On Tuesday every week, after football practice and dinner, Larry Ralston would meet Wade Nunley at the park, and they would run for an hour through the town. Saturday they’d hang out, sore from the game, and Sunday throw the ball a bit, and then Monday was school and practice, Tuesday the same, but their theory was that a long run Tuesday night made them strong. They’d be tired Wednesday but back by Thursday, and then there was nothing but to polish their helmets and put on their clean jerseys for the game on Friday or Saturday. No one asked them to do it, and no one else did it. What it was was, they were brimming, and they had plenty, and so they ran. Once they had done it for three weeks, they could not not run. They were full of life, and the nights were stunning in Oakpine in September. Larry could feel the torque of the earth pulling away from the sun, the air trying to chill, and they ran through it, crossing downtown with long steps, floating, alive. From there they ran out past the high school and up toward Oakpine Mountain, a route that if you described it to people would make them wonder at such length, the miles, loping like animals through the dark along the undermountain road. For Wade it was work, the last third, but his father was the coach, and Wade was a good soldier.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    In the last mile or so, dropping back toward town, Larry grinned with happiness. His body disappeared and became the fresh night, the exhilarating air, the vanished limits of any world. His strides were longer than he was tall, and they were smooth, and soon he was lost to Wade, and happily lost to Wade. Alone, flying toward the park in the disembodied night, his high tenor breath sounded like laughter. He forced himself to wait there, in the park, for Wade, who would come jogging up a moment later. They’d slap five and head off in different directions for their homes, and Larry had trouble not running again. The world was pulling at him in a way he loved, but he did not understand. It took all his muscles not to run. He walked through the quiet streets. “You little town,” he said aloud. “Turn off the TV, you town, and go to bed. I’ve run around you now, so sleep. And Wendy, tell Wade to go home. I’ll see you in school.” He opened and closed his hands. He lifted his chin and closed his eyes. He walked.

THREE
    Houses
    Mason Kirby was back in Oakpine to sell his parents’ house. He said this to himself. He wasn’t really on a mission, but it helped to say that as