Midnight Bowling by Quinn Dalton

Author:Quinn Dalton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-932112-90-3
Publisher: Carolina Wren Press
Published: 2016-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

MY MOTHER HAD her suspicions about me and Louise. She didn’t put me out, but she stopped asking where I’d been when I came home at night. Then, one morning in February 1962 I’m standing with her and Louise waiting for Walt on the platform in Toledo. My father, too, red-eyed from a late drunk. I’d been in Louise’s bed the day before, and I would’ve been back for more except she told me not to.

“You know we can’t keep doing this.” Still out of breath, saying it.

I thought to ask her what the difference was, next room or another continent. Then I thought better of it, seeing her face. I got up before she could hand me my clothes. I didn’t believe she’d stick to her word. She couldn’t kiss me at the door like that—made me want to take her back to the bedroom again—and really mean it was over. What I thought at the time.

At the station, men in suits and hats shot past in a way that made you feel a sorry sap for not being as grim with purpose as they were. Two privates unloaded Walt from the train in a chair, but he wanted to walk. The privates tried to help, but he ignored them. He pushed and sank, grunting. Louise went to him first. I had to look away. I could handle the caved in side of his face, but her hanging on his neck was too much. She stepped back, and the privates hauled him to his feet. He shook them off and lurched toward us. His hair was white as a spiderweb in that winter sun. He looked terrifying.

The privates turned, picked up their chair, and got back on the car. They came out again with Walt’s trunk, set it on the platform. Walt turned. The smashed arm swung and stilled at his side. The privates saluted, and he did it back. Then they hustled back on that train.

“’Lo,” Walt said. He grinned. On one side, the mouth drew up, the eye crinkled. On the other side, a trance stare. My mother was at him next, hugging him and crying. He toppled back a step, but Louise held him steady.

My father and I stood wide-legged like sailors. I could hear him taking a deep, rattling breath. No question what he was thinking. This white-haired, crushed giant didn’t look anything like the Walt we knew.

The women backed off and I stepped up to shake his hand. The other one hung at his side limp as lettuce. “Welcome home,” I said. I felt like as if my chest was getting crushed. I guess I’d been hoping somehow he wouldn’t show up. Walt looked at me with his half-smile. I wondered if he could read it in me.

And I got right out of the way so my father could try a handshake that ended with Walt reeling him in with his right arm. My father hugged him, face in Walt’s shoulder. He stepped back red-faced and sniffing like a swatted dog.

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