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Buku Echolocation by Karen Hofmann

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Echolocation by Karen Hofmann

Author:Karen Hofmann

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 9781988732572

Publisher: NeWest Press

Published: 2019-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

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Echolocation by Karen Hofmann

WAITING WHILE ROY stumps across the house to the door, Bryan casts his gaze to the porch roof, runs the edge of his thumbnail along a suspicious joist. He’d noticed the slope of the roof as he walked up to the house. Sagging at the left outside corner. Not his business: Roy’s still perfectly capable of getting someone to take care of it. But a shame to let things fall apart. The timber gives spongily under his nail, as he expected. He drops his arm, turns around just in time for the door to open, timing it by Roy’s approaching steps.

And there’s Roy, all jut of grey beard and belly, low-slung jeans, high-tension suspenders, wheezing a little and frowning, as if Bryan were a Bible salesman, as if he’s never seen him before. But at the sight of Roy, at the rush of warm, coffee-and-dog-pee (though the dog isn’t here anymore, died a couple of years ago) scented air that puffs out around Roy, Bryan feels the breath return to his body, feels his shoulders relax.

They’re not the sort to hug, either of them. Bryan holds out the case he’s brought, beer in bottles, and Roy grunts and gestures to come inside, and stumps back through the kitchen, Bryan following, looking around, as always, at the pinky-beige lino, the speckled countertops and newer white appliances, and seeing under them, as always, the worn aqua-blue tiles, the Harvest Gold fridge and range, the metal-edged laminate, of his childhood occupancy. In the living room, Bryan’s eyes go to the photos ranged along the shelves; there is the familiar parade of Roy’s two kids through the seventies, photos faded so both of them have pastel clothes and soft brown hair, as if they’re preserved in soft-focus. Then more recent photos of kids of various sizes: Roy’s grandkids, babies and toddlers in Christmas outfits, and Bryan’s two boys.

 

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Echolocation by Karen Hofmann

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Echolocation by Karen Hofmann

 

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Literature & Fiction

Echolocation by Karen Hofmann

Author:Karen Hofmann , Date: June 11, 2019

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Author:Karen Hofmann

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 9781988732572

Publisher: NeWest Press

Published: 2019-01-31T16:00:00+00:00
WAITING WHILE ROY stumps across the house to the door, Bryan casts his gaze to the porch roof, runs the edge of his thumbnail along a suspicious joist. He’d noticed the slope of the roof as he walked up to the house. Sagging at the left outside corner. Not his business: Roy’s still perfectly capable of getting someone to take care of it. But a shame to let things fall apart. The timber gives spongily under his nail, as he expected. He drops his arm, turns around just in time for the door to open, timing it by Roy’s approaching steps.

And there’s Roy, all jut of grey beard and belly, low-slung jeans, high-tension suspenders, wheezing a little and frowning, as if Bryan were a Bible salesman, as if he’s never seen him before. But at the sight of Roy, at the rush of warm, coffee-and-dog-pee (though the dog isn’t here anymore, died a couple of years ago) scented air that puffs out around Roy, Bryan feels the breath return to his body, feels his shoulders relax.

They’re not the sort to hug, either of them. Bryan holds out the case he’s brought, beer in bottles, and Roy grunts and gestures to come inside, and stumps back through the kitchen, Bryan following, looking around, as always, at the pinky-beige lino, the speckled countertops and newer white appliances, and seeing under them, as always, the worn aqua-blue tiles, the Harvest Gold fridge and range, the metal-edged laminate, of his childhood occupancy. In the living room, Bryan’s eyes go to the photos ranged along the shelves; there is the familiar parade of Roy’s two kids through the seventies, photos faded so both of them have pastel clothes and soft brown hair, as if they’re preserved in soft-focus. Then more recent photos of kids of various sizes: Roy’s grandkids, babies and toddlers in Christmas outfits, and Bryan’s two boys.

No pictures of Jenny or of Roy’s previous wife. No photos of Bryan growing up.

He’s learned already that there isn’t a sign of himself in the house. Why would there be?

The room he’d had at Roy’s is still there, of course. The first time he’d brought Lori, he’d asked to see it. It hadn’t been the same: It had been painted, had different furniture. The ceiling had been too low, the window too small. It had not seemed familiar at all. Then he’d asked about his things, the racing cars, the sled. Roy had said, feel free to look around. He had. They weren’t there.

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