Conclusion by Peter Robertson

Author:Peter Robertson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gibson House Press
Published: 2019-10-01T16:00:00+00:00

JUSTIN

The interstate bus was fiercely air-conditioned and half empty. Justin had both seats to himself and he kept his hood pulled up for the length of the journey.

In Duluth he disembarked. It was early evening. The resale shop was the same one where all the kids had bought their flannels several years ago. It was open late. Justin found a used hoodie in his size. It was a pale grey. His old one was a pale blue. He handed the blue one over as a partial trade-in and was given a dollar credit. The new hoodie was five dollars. He used up more of his cash for the balance of the transaction.

Justin walked the length of the lake walk, killing time. He bought a chocolate malted and sat in the park to eat it. The breeze off the lake was cooler and the air temperature was dropping fast.

It was much later when Justin walked up the hill, away from the water, and across the church parking lot. It was the same church where they had stayed the last night after the canoe trip, before the long drive home. It was the same denomination as the church the campers attended. The associate pastor had let them in that night, welcomed them warmly, boasting that their church doors were never locked, that everyone would be made welcome. To Justin, he had sounded like he meant it.

The young man had insisted on shaking hands and introducing himself. His name was Jeffrey; they should call him Pastor Jeff.

Pastor Jeff had seemed like a good guy.

Outside the side entrance, Justin studied a notice board planted in the grass. Pastor Jeff was now the senior pastor.

The parking lot was deserted as Justin walked to the last line of empty spaces and looked down on the city. There were street lights below that demarcated the main thoroughfares that ran at right angles to each other. Further away, the shipyard cranes stood illuminated in geometric poses, shimmering against the dark of the distant lake water.

Justin remembered standing there watching the sunrise on the morning before they headed home.

He walked back across the lot and pulled the handle of the church door. Pastor Jeff was as good as his word; the door was unlocked.

Inside, the building was dark, and Justin navigated the hallway by the red glow of the exit signs. He found a meeting room with an ugly assortment of overstuffed chairs and couches and a badly scarred coffee table placed in the center.

He took his hoodie off and folded it carefully before placing it inside his bag. He pulled out his towel and wrapped it around his duffel. He lay down on the couch and placed his makeshift pillow under his head. The room was warm and stuffy.

Justin heard a tanker out in the channel blow its horn three times, then an answering sequence of bridge horns, then the quieter ringing sound, as the Aerial Lift Bridge rose vertically one hundred and forty feet in the air to allow the huge ship to pass safely through.

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