Мгла
After the Storm. Norton. A Trip to Town.
"I’msorrytoh-"Ibegan,andthenahorridsuspiciondawned."Itwasn’ttheT-Bird,wasit?"
"Yeah.Itwas."
Nortonhada1960Thunderbirdinmintcondition,onlythirtythousandmiles.Itwasadeepmidnightblueinsideandout.Hedroveitonlysummers,andthenonlyrarely.HelovedthatBirdthewaysomemenloveelectrictrainsormodelshipsortarget-shootingpistols.
"That’sabitch,"Isaid,andmeantit.
Heshookhisheadslowly."Ialmostdidn’tbringitup.Almostbroughtthestationwagon,youknow.ThenIsaidwhatthehell,Idroveitupandabigoldrottenpinefellonit.Theroofofit’sallbashedin.AndIthoughtI’dcutitup...thetree,Imean...butIcan’tgetmychainsawtofireup...Ipaidtwohundreddollarsforthatsucker...and...and..."
Histhroatbegantoemitlittleclickingsounds.Hismouthworkedasifheweretoothlessandchewingdates.ForonehelplesssecondIthoughthewasgoingtostandthereandbawllikeakidonasandlot.Thenhegothimselfundersomehalfwaykindofcontrol,shrugged,andturnedawayasiftolookatthechunksofwoodIhadcutup.
"Well,wecanlookatyoursaw,"Isaid."YourT-Birdinsured?"
"Yeah,"hesaid,"likeyourboathouse."
Isawwhathemeant,andrememberedagainwhatSteffhadsaidaboutinsurance.
"Listen,Dave,IwonderedifIcouldborrowyourSaabandtakearunuptotown.IthoughtI’dgetsomebreadandcoldcutsandbeer.Alotofbeer."
"BillyandIaregoingupintheScout,"Isaid."Comewithusifyouwant.
