Stars Go Blue by Laura Pritchett Page A

with money, that’s a fact. People don’t want to admit to that truth, but it’s true. By the time he finally dies, there won’t be anything left.”
    â€œYes. Oh, yes.” Ben doesn’t know for sure what to say. He feels so excited and happy, and he just wants to hang on to that. But he should be careful, he knows it. Maybe this man takes drugs and will rob him. So Ben has to be careful not to let the dust out. Not let the dust out of the corral.
    The man unpacks a sandwich, a store-bought kind with meat and cheese, and suddenly Ben’s stomach rumbles and the man tilts half the sandwich at him and Ben shouldn’t take it, he really shouldn’t, but he’s so hungry, and his mouth just says, “If you don’t mind, sure,” and his hand is holding it. He should have remembered to pack food. “I’ll pay you for it,” he says, and reaches into his wallet, and the man objects but Ben is no taker of handouts and so he pulls out a bill and stares at it fora long time to make sure that it is the right size of bill, it has a 1 and two 0 ’s and that seems right for a sandwich, so he hands it to the man and the man pauses and says, “Huh,” and then, “Well, thanks,” and so Ben knows he’s done a good job.
    The sandwich is very good. He likes the feel of different tastes and feelings in his mouth. He likes the snow coming down.
    â€œYou’re doing all right, though? Traveling alone and all.” The man’s food falls from his mouth and onto his lap, little bits of lettuce and tomato.
    â€œMy body’s doing great but my mind isn’t what it used to be. Although my arm is kind of feeling . . . something . . . I don’t have the word. I’m not as bad as some people who go to those meetings, though. Can’t complain.”
    â€œWell, good.” The man opens up a bag of chips, which he offers to Ben. “That’s good.”
    â€œI came up with a new saying. Tell you what I’m gonna do, see. I’m going to stay tuned in as long as I can.” He remembers suddenly an earlier time, when he was a young boy, and he came upon a heifer at his parents’ ranch, and the heifer was dead and swollen with bloat, and her two top legs were sticking out in the air. She wasn’t cut or bleeding or anything that he could find, but when he walked around behind her, half of a calf which was also dead was coming out her rear end, and that was the first time he had seen what birth looked like and what death looked like, all in one snapshot of an instant. Something about that reminds him of why he is on the bus.
    The man is chuckling like a bird. “Stay tuned in. I like that.”
    â€œDoesn’t take long to kill things,” Ben says. “Takes a lot longer to grow things.”
    The man pauses and chews. “That’s true, I guess.”
    Ben’s mind wanders to a game he once played with his grandchildren—he can’t remember the name of it—but therewas an orange card that said GET OUT OF JAIL FREE. Then he finds his voice and his words. “Renny is my wife. I have a daughter and four grandchildren. And a ranch. Later the dust will get heavier. But not yet.”
    â€œYou’ll lose your signal.”
    â€œBut not yet.”
    â€œI wonder what that’s like.” The man is itching his wrists, then picks at his face, then itches his wrists. “That sure must be strange. Hope you don’t mind me asking.”
    â€œOh, it’s a strange thing,” Ben says, and he wonders if the man has a disease, like the cows get, and needs some ointment for those wrists. “I think you can put it on pause. Like a movie. And it will freeze. Like those fields outside. Someday they will melt, but not now.”
    â€œYou got that right,” says the man. “Looks like we’re going to get a downright blizzard.”
    For a long time they sit quietly, looking out, and