stock boy saw him or the sheer athletic prowess that left the pudgy employee huffing and puffing on the wrong side of a wall; he is proud he had the foresight to swipe it while he still looked okay. He knew it wouldnât be long before he smelled like Dumpsters and had a beard, and that people like that get watched the minute they enter a place of business.
He is proud, too, of the fight with the shower-cap man. Shower-cap wanted that sleeping bag; it was a hunterâs bag, camouflaged, rated all the way down to ten below. You donât need to tuck tail and run for the mission in a bag like that. Shower-cap pushed a shopping cart full of stuffed animals around, held the stuffies up and made them wave at cars before he showed his
HUNGRY NEED A DOLLAR GOD LOVES U
sign. Kids made their parents give him the dollar, and he smiled his gap-toothed smile at them. But not everybody who plays with teddy bears is nice. Shower-cap thought because he was big and had a pipe he was going to get that thermal sleeping bag and make the new guy push on to another on-ramp. Shower-cap was wrong. Shower-cap pushed on. Shower-capâs smile has more gaps now.
The young man has always been a good fighter.
Going into the infantry seemed right, even though someone he cared about asked him not to. Begged him not to that day on the couch, lying on him and crying down into his eyes.
He had to go, and at the time he thought she didnât understand, but he has come to believe that maybe she did.
He came back from Afghanistan after only a few weeks in country. He came back different. Not better different. Traumatic-brain-injury-and-severe-tinnitus different. The IED had spun the Humvee like a soda can, popped it in half, killed the lieutenant and the Mexican outright, blinded the guy who played hockey. He didnât remember names so well anymore, but he knew that guy played hockey. He himself was the luckiest guy in the limo that day, but he wasnât all that lucky. Kept all his outside parts, but now everything sounded like whining, and he got mad fast. Yelled when he argued, which didnât play well at the smartphone sales kiosk in the Carousel mall. Or at the Catholic high school that took him on as a janitor. Or at the car wash, where he worked for six hours.
That he grabbed arms and squeezed to emphasize the yelling hadnât played well with sparrow-tattoo girl. And it was sparrow-tattoo girlâs apartment.
Had been before he left for the army, when he had his own place, too. He had known her for years. Three? Four?
She had cried down into his eyes.
He used to have some letters she wrote.
She was right to kick him out.
He stole the sleeping bag the very same day.
Never went back for his stuff.
He is a caveman now.
 â¢Â â¢Â â¢Â
Itâs a warm day and heâs wearing the video game T-shirt, his favorite shirt. He has already gotten thirty-three dollars and fifty cents from the good motorists heading away from the airport onto Interstate 81. He has just lain down to nap when he sees a woman walking up to him, a pretty, older woman.
He sits up on one elbow and smiles at her.
He still has a good smile.
He watches her.
It isnât every day that someone bothers to get out of the car and come over to him here, although it has happened.
She has a carload waiting for her, calling to her in another language. One of the men gets out, starts toward her protectively, which is completely unnecessary. Heâs harmless to women unless they argue with him, and then he just squeezes their arms. He doesnât even mean to do that.
She takes something from her purse; a vial of water? Three ounces, just how they like it at the TSA.
She unscrews the cap.
He just stares at her beauty mark, her pretty, fair skin.
Sheâs prettier than sparrow-tattoo girl, even though sheâs old enough to be her mom.
A MILF.
He hates that word.
âYour name was Victor,â she tells him. She has an
He is proud, too, of the fight with the shower-cap man. Shower-cap wanted that sleeping bag; it was a hunterâs bag, camouflaged, rated all the way down to ten below. You donât need to tuck tail and run for the mission in a bag like that. Shower-cap pushed a shopping cart full of stuffed animals around, held the stuffies up and made them wave at cars before he showed his
HUNGRY NEED A DOLLAR GOD LOVES U
sign. Kids made their parents give him the dollar, and he smiled his gap-toothed smile at them. But not everybody who plays with teddy bears is nice. Shower-cap thought because he was big and had a pipe he was going to get that thermal sleeping bag and make the new guy push on to another on-ramp. Shower-cap was wrong. Shower-cap pushed on. Shower-capâs smile has more gaps now.
The young man has always been a good fighter.
Going into the infantry seemed right, even though someone he cared about asked him not to. Begged him not to that day on the couch, lying on him and crying down into his eyes.
He had to go, and at the time he thought she didnât understand, but he has come to believe that maybe she did.
He came back from Afghanistan after only a few weeks in country. He came back different. Not better different. Traumatic-brain-injury-and-severe-tinnitus different. The IED had spun the Humvee like a soda can, popped it in half, killed the lieutenant and the Mexican outright, blinded the guy who played hockey. He didnât remember names so well anymore, but he knew that guy played hockey. He himself was the luckiest guy in the limo that day, but he wasnât all that lucky. Kept all his outside parts, but now everything sounded like whining, and he got mad fast. Yelled when he argued, which didnât play well at the smartphone sales kiosk in the Carousel mall. Or at the Catholic high school that took him on as a janitor. Or at the car wash, where he worked for six hours.
That he grabbed arms and squeezed to emphasize the yelling hadnât played well with sparrow-tattoo girl. And it was sparrow-tattoo girlâs apartment.
Had been before he left for the army, when he had his own place, too. He had known her for years. Three? Four?
She had cried down into his eyes.
He used to have some letters she wrote.
She was right to kick him out.
He stole the sleeping bag the very same day.
Never went back for his stuff.
He is a caveman now.
 â¢Â â¢Â â¢Â
Itâs a warm day and heâs wearing the video game T-shirt, his favorite shirt. He has already gotten thirty-three dollars and fifty cents from the good motorists heading away from the airport onto Interstate 81. He has just lain down to nap when he sees a woman walking up to him, a pretty, older woman.
He sits up on one elbow and smiles at her.
He still has a good smile.
He watches her.
It isnât every day that someone bothers to get out of the car and come over to him here, although it has happened.
She has a carload waiting for her, calling to her in another language. One of the men gets out, starts toward her protectively, which is completely unnecessary. Heâs harmless to women unless they argue with him, and then he just squeezes their arms. He doesnât even mean to do that.
She takes something from her purse; a vial of water? Three ounces, just how they like it at the TSA.
She unscrews the cap.
He just stares at her beauty mark, her pretty, fair skin.
Sheâs prettier than sparrow-tattoo girl, even though sheâs old enough to be her mom.
A MILF.
He hates that word.
âYour name was Victor,â she tells him. She has an
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