The Cosmology of Bing: a Novel by Mitch Cullin

Author:Mitch Cullin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781453293430
Publisher: The Permanent Press

Now Nick was gone, already among the mountains and chill of Colorado, and Bing—on his balcony with Pussy, drink in hand—missed the boy’s presence, his polite charm, the way he sometimes brushed the hair from his face while talking. But they’d see each other again, Bing knew; not the end of something, he thought, just the beginning: Perhaps he misses me as well, looks forward to returning, to finding me waiting for him there at the airport terminal.

“No, you won’t call a cab,” he’d told Nick that morning, “nor will you take that truck—you’ll have to park it and that’ll cost plenty. I’ll deposit you at the airport myself.”

“Really, you’ve already done enough—”

“Nonsense.”

Was this the same day? Had it been only hours ago that Nick climbed into Bing’s Buick? That Bing, wishing to seem paternal, rested a palm on Nick’s shoulder and asked, “You ready? Got your ticket?”

“Yep.”

“All right, I guess we’re set.”

Then along the highway they went, amongst cars and pickups and vans that sped southwards—as if, Bing envisioned, the drivers were fleeing Houston before disaster struck the city. The profiles of holiday travelers—restless children in the backseat, fathers and mothers up front—zoomed by the Buick, one vehicle after another, like variations on the same theme.

Where were they all going?

Past the weathered shotgun shacks on the cradle of the interstate, the expanse of shopping centers, the endless urban sprawl that stretched toward NASA and Galveston Island—places where rural communities and towns once existed, now consumed by their larger neighbor—and the oil refineries spitting fire into the clear sky.

Because they all had somewhere else to go? Like Nick—who wouldn’t let Bing park his Buick at the airport, arguing that it was better to drop him off: “It’ll save us both time.” Even though there was a traffic jam at the Passenger Pick Up—hazard lights blinking, suitcases being loaded into trunks, embraces and kisses and happy families.

Bing said, “You know, I don’t mind going in with you. What if your plane is delayed, or cancelled?”

But Nick wouldn’t hear of it. He was ready to leave, offering simply a handshake and a hurried, “I owe you for everything, Bing. Take care. I’ll phone you when I get my return flight schedule.” Then from the Buick he clambered, holding his backpack, weaving between cars, approaching an airport entrance, turning briefly to wave.

Then gone.

Somewhere else. But not for Bing. Back along the highway, by the strip malls and refineries, his chest tightened as if to remind him: You are alone. You have always been alone. With your supernovae and gastroenteritis and damaged wife. Your upstairs world, your balcony.

Somewhere else.

But not for Susan, surely in her bedroom, praying for deliverance, until sleep found her in the hours before dawn. “Redemption,” Brother Van Horn repeated on her TV. Redemption read odd notes left on napkins in the kitchen, on the pad beside the downstairs telephone. Susan’s word: redemption. Had Bing pondered it while leaning into the balcony railing, there in the night, longing for a boy he hardly knew? No.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.