Buku Gutted by unknow

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Jual Buku
Gutted by unknow

Author:unknow

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress

ISBN: 978-1-945174-26-1

Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing

Published: 2016-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

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Gutted by unknow

CARDS FOR HIS SPOKES, COINS FOR HIS FARE

John F.D. Taff

Can I ask you a question, the most important one I can think of?

 

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Gutted by unknow

Author:unknow , Date: July 7, 2019

,Views: 14

Author:unknow

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress

ISBN: 978-1-945174-26-1

Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing

Published: 2016-06-23T16:00:00+00:00
CARDS FOR HIS SPOKES, COINS FOR HIS FARE

John F.D. Taff

Can I ask you a question, the most important one I can think of?

Sure. I might not know the answer. Or I might not be able to tell you, but you can ask me anything.

Can you tell me how to let go of something? Something precious?

Simple. Don’t hold onto it for too long.

***

The Schwinn was brand new, gleaming, pale white.

The color of clouds, of bones, of ghosts.

“Wow,” Scott said, still too stunned to smile.

He ran his hand unbelievingly down the ten-speed, from its rubbery seat down its smooth center bar to the ram’s curls of its handlebars. His fingers flitted over the gear levers, squeezed the brakes.

A real ten-speed, he thought. A grown-up bike.

And not a birthday or even a Christmas present.

He turned to his parents, both standing nearby, quiet, expectant smiles hovering on their faces.

“So, what do you think, kiddo?” his father asked. “You don’t seem too happy about . . . oof!”

Scott’s sudden embrace knocked the air out of his father.

“It’s cool . . . it’s dy-no-mite!” he shouted.

Laughing, his father hugged him back. “Well, that’s better.”

Scott released his dad, threw his arms around his mother. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

His mother, who appeared happy but a little more dubious about the gift, placed one hand on his shoulder, ruffled his hair with the other, bent to kiss the top of his head.

“You’re welcome,” she said, putting her lips to his ear. “You just be careful, mister.”

“Honey . . . ,” his father chided.

“Mom . . . ,” Scott moaned at the same time, pulling away and regarding her with an exasperated look.

She smiled again, and it hung there in the air over her face, as if scrawled over a sketch of an anxious mother.

“Hey, a mom can be worried,” she said, ruffling his hair again. Scott saw her flash her eyes quickly at his father, who gave a little shrug in response. Scott knew that he was not supposed to see this, that it wasn’t supposed to register with him. But since he’d gotten older—12 years old this past February!—they were all coming to an accommodation about what was registering with Scott these days . . . what he noticed, what he understood.

“Well, I’m sure you and your dad have some things to go over before you take off, so I’ll let you go to it,” his mother said. “But first . . . ”

She held out her closed right hand to Scott, who stood there for a moment as if he didn’t know what to do. So she waggled the hand at him, and he finally put out his own, palm up, underneath it.

His mother opened her hand, and two coins fell out.

Scott saw two quarters cupped in his hand, looked at his mother quizzically.

“One for a phone, if you need to reach us. And one for the bus, if you need to get home.”

Scott heard this as mom-speak for, One for a phone, if there’s a problem.

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