BooksBarbecue
Back At Dawn
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
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  39. Copyright

I jumped off the train on Friday after the shortened week and stopped at a thrift store. Cheaply priced artwork hung in the windows. I perused the paintings, most of which smelled of dust and looked to be from the seventies, but there were a few I liked, one being a panoramic photograph of a placid lake with the front of a rowboat showing in the foreground. It was dusk in autumn, and the surrounding pines at the lake’s shore reflected in the calm waters, everything dark, golden, and brown. Everything silent. It was titled Quiet Places. A caption along the bottom read, “The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” I wasn’t sure if it was large enough to cover the hole but I liked it despite its terrible cliché. I bought it for ten dollars and carried it home. Carolyn was sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone to her ear. She bit her lip and looked at me apologetically. I held the picture up. She nodded, smiled approval. I climbed on the desk. The picture was only a foot in height, but three feet wide. It wouldn’t quite cover the hole, leaving a slight discoloration at the top and bottom, but not enough to bother me. Plaster skittered down the wall each time the hammer struck the nail. Carolyn stuck her index finger in her free ear to hear the voice on the other end of the line while I worked.

“Fine,” she said sternly into the phone. “I’ll be there in a half hour.” She paused and sighed. “No, it’s fine. I’ll see you in a half hour.”

I finished hanging the picture and sat on the desk with my feet in the chair.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to get my things from Jimmy.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“No, he’s moving back to Iowa next week and it’s now or never.”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, Stratton. I need to go over there alone and talk to him so he’ll quit calling me.”

“I’ll kill the piece of shit.”

“Which is precisely why I don’t want you to go. I’ll be fine. I’ll only be there a few minutes.”

“I don’t trust him,” I said. “What if something happens? What if he hits you again?”

“Hey,” she said and walked over and took my right hand and massaged open my fingers, then stared at me until I met her eyes, which I was reluctant to do. “It’ll be fine. I’ll only be gone an hour.”

I sighed and shook my head.