Мгла
After the Storm. Norton. A Trip to Town.
TheremightbeblowdownsonKansasRoadtoo,youknow."
"I’llbecareful."
"Youbecareful,too,"shetoldBilly,andkissedhischeek.
"Right,Mom."Hebangedoutofthedoorandthescreencrackedshutbehindhim.
NortonandIwalkedoutafterhim."Whydon’twegoovertoyourplaceandcutthetreeoffyourBird?"Iaskedhim.AllofasuddenIcouldthinkoflotsofreasonstodelayleavingfortown.
"Idon’tevenwanttolookatituntilafterlunchandafewmoreofthese"Nortonsaid,holdinguphisbeercan."Thedamagehasbeendone,Daveoldbuddy."
Ididn’tlikehimcallingmebuddy,either.
WeallgotintothefrontseatoftheScout(inthefarcornerofthegaragemyscarredFisherplowbladesatglimmeringyellow,liketheghostofChristmasyet-to-come)andIbackedout,crunchingoveralitterofstorm-blowntwigs.Steffwasstandingonthecementpathwhichleadstothevegetablepatchattheextremewestendof,ourproperty.Shehadapairofclippersinoneglovedhandandtheweedingclawintheother.Shehadputonheroldfloppysunhat,anditcastabandofshadowoverherface.Itappedthehorntwice,lightly,andsheraisedthehandholdingtheclippersinanswer.Wepulledout.Ihaven’tseenmywifesincethen.
WehadtostoponceonourwayuptoKansasRoad.Sincethepowertruckhaddriventhrough,aprettyfair-sizedpinehaddroppedacrosstheroad.NortonandIgotoutandmoveditenoughsoIcouldinchtheScoutby,gettingourhandsallpitchyintheprocess.BillywantedtohelpbutIwavedhimback.
