PINTA PARADE

The day after I clock my fastest time I come home from church and run five miles. I arrive home and push my collection book in my back pocket. The leaves are beginning to topple from the sweet gum tree in front of my house. The bleeding orchestrations of crimson and medium-rare cooked meat-colored leaves before releasing themselves from an arthritic limb in capitulated confetti ellipses.
I stop at the Wahls. When I stop at Mr. Endres I see Matieu and address him in La Francais, inquiring how he is enjoying high school French so far. I stop at Tim’s even though his parents don’t get the paper only to hear Tim bark at me for interrupted him while playing Sonic the Hedgehog two.  I duck in the sodden alleyway behind Baskin Robbins and the Kaffee Shop, take a right on Moss, loose myself in the flaring poms of trees erupting in shades of pecan and raspberry pink in Jumer’s parking lot. It is Sunday afternoon and I am thinking about my race. I am thinking about how, after logging immeasurable hours in the summer running down Moss avenue, skirting the hills of Bradley park, the silhouette my limbs forming a nylon sail as I push past the Columbus statue taking a right into the Uplands, pushing, walking down Moss, past the house where the pirates live who are perennially unemployed a rumor has it commits sodomy, past the house with the Pipe fitter and the lady who bartends at Get-a-way on Western, where, because of a rule, they buzz you in in won’t serve you if you have long hair.

I am loosing myself in the leaves stuffed in the gutter, I am walking thinking about last summer, thinking that I should really monopolize the majority of the afternoon with my algebra text pouring over equations Mrs. Peabody will lambaste me over when I try to elucidate them on the chalkboard in class.

I crunch over islands of autumnal leaves and walk up to ta familiar door.

“Well Hey!”

 

Bob and Frank are home. There is a heap of International Male magazines next to the door.  I wonder if perhaps if they are into fashion.

Both Bob and Frank are smiling.

 “We saw your name in the newspaper. Congratulations man. Looks like you are having a pretty good freshman year.”

 

Bob is shaking my hand up and down. Frank fires up a cigarette and smokes exactly half of it three consecutive puffs

 

“We are really proud of you, man. First you are acting on stage one second, the next you are appearing in the paper on the sports page.”   I am humbled. Bob and Frank always tip five bucks. The weekly paper is less than three dollars. It is not unusual for Bob and Frank to give me a ten spot and tell me to keep the change. 

"Yeah, and I had a date Friday night."

"A date??"

"Yeah, we went and saw a movie. It's a new girl. Her name is Renae."

Bob and Frank slap me on the back like they are getting me on stage at a Bachelor party. Frank cups his hand over his lips and begins to whisper.

"Well,  you know, if you ever need to borrow any rubber sweaters just let us know because we have a wide assortment upstairs."

I have no clue what he is talking about. They both begin to laugh. Bob says that they have other stuff too but she probably isn't into bondage.

I laugh as well.

It's hard not to laugh when Bob and Frank our around.


After collecting I run around the golf course one more time. A three mile slow down. When I get home I boil more water and dump alchemized grains into another cup. I am nervous. I am thinking about her.  I am thinking about how she gave me the fastest time I have ever had. For the first time I am a varsity athlete. For the first time I competed to my potential. For the first time it seems that all the arduous work I put in over the summer is finally paying off.  Upon arriving home I then, almost inexplicably, boil a cup of hot water and use my father’s instant coffee, adding insane amount of sugar and milk. I then shower. I am lathering parts of my body. I have clocked my fastest time. Somewhere Renae’s  DNA is still on my hand.
 

 

Somehow I can’t stop thinking about her.

I am going to call her. I drop grainy chemicals into another cup of hot water. My sister asks me what am I all of a sudden drinking coffee.

I tell her I don’t know.

I go up to the phone. I am going to call her. I am going to tell her what  an incredible time I had last night. I am going to tell her how I can’t stop thinking about her.

I am going to tell her how I, after two tepid races, clocked the fastest race of my life.

I go into my parents room next to the bed where I was conceived.

I dial her number.

I say hello.

 

I ask if I  may please speak with Dawn Michelle.