Tony took the equivalent of four
trips to the emergency room. Popped ‘em in church, in front of a priest who was
giftwrapping sermons for lethargic housewives & small dog owners. The
priest told the news later that Tony was a good kid, he meant well. Said his
head was a box of marbles sometimes. Said he worried about him sometimes. I
worried about him sometimes. I always wondered what he was thinking when he
looked at rusted train tracks, when he saw cleaning solution under the sink.
Tony was always looking for solutions. Told me once that we should line the
bodies of downed trees along the road, that way cars wouldn’t hit frogs
crossing the street in the rain. I thought about it for a few weeks, the log
idea. I needed to know, y’know? So I caught Tony on a Tuesday, staring at cutlery
in the supermarket. How will you lug all those logs? Arms crossed, eyes
fixed on the knives, Tony spoke: “Not sure. But there’s a way around
everything, Father told me.” He reached out, ran his fingers along the edge of
a blade. “I’m starting to think it's a lie.”
Dillon J. Welch
As She Climbed Across the Table
Jonathan Lethem