EXCERPT FROM

HOMECOMING
Half-wracked prejudice leapt forth rip down all hate! I screamed I sang in a quiet mumble. Lies that life is black and white spoke from my skullI dreamed My voice echoed Bob Dylan against the ceramic urinals and flabby stall dividers, the strawberry-scented cakes and soap on the floor. Shiny appearances, all of it, trying to mask the honest smells of human piss and shit. An aesthetic hygienic. The suds washed off my hands. I took my hands away from the faucet and turned to walk out of the bathroom before the automatic sensor turned off the water. Ah, but I was so much older then, I continued. Im younger than that now. I wound down the stairs and out the building doors into the chill night. The parking lot stretched out in a wide expanse. My eyes searched for the car. I adjusted my jacket as I walked farther away from the library, a bright glassy giant that loomed next to the smaller, more constrained Liberal Arts building. The new university library was emblematic of control, too, just in a newer skin alleging fashion sense. It made me think, for some reason, of Norma Desmonds mansion in Sunset Boulevard. The whole appearance of the thing felt so imposing with its ingratiating sense of precision, its bold academic confidence. Such a sycophantic exterior for the new building on campus. I finally found the red Jetta my eyes had been searching for. I walked up, feeling the music inside before I was close to the car itself. The door opened very mechanically and I sat inside. Hi, Tina, I said. Whats up! Tina turned the music down. Its been so long, David-my-love. There was a blue Tupperware bowl of cold mashed potatoes, with a fork, sitting in her lap. The Jetta smelled of perfume and factory-fresh foam seating. You can have some mashed potatoes. If youre hungry. Its just my dinner, but I wont finish. Just dont be messy. This is a new car. Turning up the music again, Tina pulled away from the curb and drove into the dark summoning street. She began belting the notes along with the stereo speakers. Martina McBride, she interrupted with a breath right before the chorus. I shrugged; I hadnt really heard her. Youve heard this, she said as she punched the track button with her finger. Na-na-na-na na-na naI guess I just lost my husband, I dont know where he went Pink! So Im gonna drink my money, Im not gonna pay his rent nope! I thought about admitting that I hadnt known it was Pink either, but kept smiling and nodding anyway because I thought thatd serve as much good as telling Tina that I felt like

cringing, and not merely from the speaker volume. The music pounded like a titanic fax machine throughout the stereo system. The waiter just took my table and gave it to Jessica Simps shhh Here, Tina abruptly rushed the radio knob down to zero before revving it up again to mute out shit, of course. She continued to move and sing with the loudness that had nowhere to go in the cramped car space but into my weakening ears. Tina mustve noticed my discomfort because then she interrupted her sing -along to be sardonic. What? You dont like how loud I am? Am Im too loud for you? She turned the knob up a few more notches and gave more juice to the blasting speakers. Then with a knowing smile, she said, quite brazenly, This is why you and I never worked out, David. I gave her a hollow laugh. Uh huh. I think it was about a bit more than that. Tina turned down the volume a bit and drew a breath. I have a question for you, she said very seriously. Does Emma know? That were coming? No. About that. The atmosphere seemed to shift, transmuting to imprecision. About what? You know what, she said. Then, more quietly: Derek. She made a turn off Center Street and into neighborhood area. Dont play innocent, she simpered. I don't know how she could. I didnt bring myself to tell Kevin about Derek until last September. I turned my head and met her eyes, daring to disturb her universe. Kevin, well, hes never told anyone, anyway. I was talking to Megan about this, she said, briskly taking a forkful of potato. Have you told Hillary? Veneer. I wasnt surprised. Denial makes everyone responsible but you. Hillary Welles? I asked. As in Sams Welles mom? Yes. I think she knows. I think they all know, the Welles Well, I havent told them, either. Righhht, she slowly conceded, as if this didnt matter, before continuing along. And I was thinking that, like, you shouldnt feel you have to. Yknow? I stared out at houses in shadows rolling past us on the other side of the window like sheets of purple wallpaper. Its not that I havent felt like it. There just hasnt been a need to tell her. And the truth is I doubt I can trust her with that, anyway. Trust Emma? No, the Welles. When Megan and I were there the other night talking about Sam and how hes doing on his mission in Pennsylvania, Hillary said something. Shes said something

every time Im over there. One time she thought Megan and I were dating. As if shes oblivious that Megans waiting for Sam! And last time I snapped my fingers a few times before it came to me. We were talking about Pixar movies. Finding Nemo. Dory, right? Megans like, I love Ellen Degeneres. And Hillary says I raised my index finger for emphasis verbatim, Yeah, I love her show! Shes hilarious. I just wish she wasnt gay. Then I paused for emphasis before pantomiming, Like, Oh, its too bad shes gay because that illegitimizes her comedic talent. So Ill justify watching She wouldnt have said something like that if shed known. But thats my point. Hillary would be nice about that around you. But thats what Im trying to tell you. Well, Im sure she didnt mean it like that. How else did she mean it? I asked her. Tina didnt answer. I shifted in my seat and my iPod jabbed at me from inside my jacket pocket. I took it out and reached for my bag to put it away when Tina took the iPod from out of my hand. Is this your iPod? she asked. What did you do to the screen? Its broken. Last semester while I was at work. I dont know how. How the eff can you not know? Lets listen to it. She took out a chord, plugged in, and pushed play. The car hummed, perhaps sensing a respite, as soft tones began to play. Guitar notes tapped repetitively, yet expectantly, while other braver notes climbed and then backed down playfully, then nervously, but eagerly moving towards something. No vocals, no lyrics. Just anticipation. The snares hissed gently. There will be time / To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet What is this? she asked. Explosions In The Sky. This song is called The Only Moment We Were Alone. Its so pretty. She said it delicately like a realization. I stared at the road. Weathered yellow lines punctuated its surface. It seemed like ancient Morse code for voiceless language, like a hammering typewriter, one after the other. There was a concise quietness before Tina asked, Why did you wait all this time to tell Kevin, David? I kept staring at the road. It was hypnotic to me not the road itself, but the fact that it was never the same road, never expressing itself the same way from moment to moment. I think you know the answer to that, Tina, I said. Refresh my memory.

I could feel her glancing over me. The road was a current of rushing gray matter running underneath the car. I think we both know, I said. We arrived at the house before long. Tina parked the car on the driveway. Okay, baby, well be right back, effortlessly anthromorphosizing like an awkward habit. Dont go anywhere. David, if I find any crap from your shoes, Im gonna effing kill you. My shoes dont scuff or get muddy very easily. Theyre Docs. Doc Martins? She turned the ignition off and began gathering her things. You werent wearing those last time we saw each other. When did you buy yourself Doc Martins? I began to get out of the car. August or September. 2007. Almost two years ago? Why? I was gonna go on a mission. I shut the car door. I could see the mountain behind the small house only faintly. Pines riddled the slopes that rose defiantly like broad broken shoulders jutting into the valley sky. The snow stretched tightly over this shattered rock like skin on a drum, and the moon breathed on it tenderly. This was Mount Timpanogos, a giant made barely visible by the February night darkness. I didnt wait for Tina to finish collecting her things; I was standing on the doorstep ringing the bell before she even closed the door and began advancing towards the house. The delay to answer the door made me feel impatient, but this particular doorstep had made me accustomed to delay in high school. It was silly to be impatient, since every room was lit, which only proved that now, and now, and then now, someone would surely come to answer. Has it been so long, I wondered aloud as I regarded the lawn, the red brick, the tile flowers in the stony sidewalk. Charming spot, I murmured, quoting. Interesting prospects. Lets go. I noted Tina crossing the walk. Clouds were forming in an observing firmament above us. I continued to myself with Beckett. We cant. Why not? A wind picked up briefly before disappearing just as someone came to the door. Were waiting for Godot. Ah, yes The door opened. A boy looked up at me, his large-rimmed glasses glared by the living room ceiling lights. This was Mexican, the little brother Kevin always joked was adopted because he was the only one who didnt look like the rest (although he had never looked like he had a drop of Latin blood in him, either). This may or may not have been the reason I can never remember his name. It seemed rarely said, and so because I didnt know, I never let on. It seemed like I was, in the end, just part of Kevins family joke.

Emma was coming swiftly behind him. Oh guys, hello! Youre here already! Let them in, honey. Tina and I trailed in one after the other. Mexican backed away, still looking at me. You look familiar, he said suspiciously. I smiled. Its me, David. Kevins Yeah! Now I remember. I knelt down, leveling with his eyes. Youve gotten bigger. How old are you now? Tina put her hands on her hips, visibly not in a mood to waste time with pleasantries. Where do we go, Emma? We are finishing this tonight, saying this as she gestured to the whole house. Emma tucked herself in; she wrapped her arms around her chest, clutching at the sleeves of her brown woolen jacket. There were a few pauses before she spoke; almost every sentence Id ever heard Emma utter seemed carefully studied out. WellI thinkwell, I think downstairs is what needs the most work. Yeah, there, probably. Thanks so much for coming, you guys. We reassured her that it was no problem and proceeded to cross the living room and down the stairs. The house smelled like a warm undersized kitchen thats packed with familiar bodies busying about while dinner cooks. Emma hobbled a bit, her black Velcro brace wrapped tight around her leg; it reminded me of a pirates peg leg, the way it poked from under her quilt skirt. She took a look around the room, arms still tucked under her shoulders. She seemed to be looking at the room as if for the first time. How embarrassing she said softly, sounding a little like a kid apologizing for sneaking cookies. Cables from video game consoles ran all over the room, threading like weeds amongst worn out Lego blocks and dolls with fixed faces. There was an early computer model sitting on a tiny green desk in the middle of the room. A naked mattress sat nearby on a roller bed. This all seemed like a big metamorphosis from the last time I was in this basement living room. The space was virtually impassible. Emma suggested that we put the desk in Kevins new room. She led the way to a room near the stairs that I knew used to be a work area for Kevins dad. The room was changed completely; there was a big bed, a dresser, and a short sheet of red cloth for a makeshift curtain. The room seemed much smaller than Id recollected. I noticed a hole half the size of a shoebox in the ceiling near the window. Emma explained it was a light fixture she and Kevins dad had been hoping to have it patched up by tomorrow before Kevin could see it. If he asks about it, I chuckled, just tell him, Oh, thats where the aliens can watch over you while you sleep. If you hear computer sounds at night, thats

what it is. Hell get a real kick outta that. Emma laughed. Yeah, hed probably not want to sleep in the room if we told him that. Tina stared blankly at the both of us from the doorway. I wondered if Emma or I should explaining Kevins longtime (and very real) fear of aliens, and the unending entertainment value of such a phobia. Instead of explaining, I brusquely picked up a framed picture of a tourist in front of the Brooklyn Bridge Id noticed on the dresser. With a slight start, I realized that the tourist in the picture was Kevin himself. Woahwhen was this taken? Emma came up from behind, peering over my shoulder. Yeah, doesnt he look great? He looks great, doesnt he. I could see angry blue storm clouds hovering dangerously in the background. Kevin was standing, with his hands one on top of the other, in the center of a convergence of the cables, right in the focal point. He seemed worried about the clouds, because his face seemed similar to the face an prepared yet impatient construction worker might have waiting for the dynamite to go off. His grin was a photophobic machination caught between contrivance and anxiety but an honest smile just the same, as if it had been forced under some impending calamity and paradoxically was born truthful. He looks a little pudgy, I heard Tina say. She had appeared right next to me. Emma confirmed his weight with varying details of his diet for the past several months. I thought of the letters and tapes Kevin had sent me detailing the food in Queens. Their voices soon faded into the background. It felt unusual all of a sudden, because while I could hear a bit of the outside traffic on the tapes as Kevin had recorded them, and I could imagine him in whatever city he would scribble he was in on the back of pictures to me, I had never fully placed Kevin in New York City until this moment. Id never placed him against that epic metropolitan panorama, that lush Herculean milieu of shiny metal and ebony grit Id only known as a location setting from books and movies. A setting so majestic that seeing photographic evidence of Kevin smack in the literal middle of this place, his smiling face captured in time, seemed so jarring and grand all at once. I thought of Pavarotti. Ridi, Pagliaccio! Laugh at the grief that poisons your heart! It suddenly became clear to me that Kevin really had vanished to that city of gods and dreams, one of the biggest places on the planet. It was a coastal universe that existed on the far edge of my own reality. Kevin had been the diffident big fish in smaller, insignificant waters for most of his life. The next thing I know, hes breaking out of Gods desert Levittown for over there. Kevin in New York. For two years.

It was unexpected. And so sudden. But here I was, in his room the night before his plane would fly in. And there was Kevin, contained in this picture frame, nametag on his breast pocket, smiling as he stood in front of the Brooklyn Bridge which was crowned with an American flag, almost an iconic excess and redolent of a smarmy cherry on top of the dessert sundae in a highway town diner. The whole thing looked like a postcard. How I wish you were here Were just two lost souls swimmin in a fish bowl Year after year. Running over the same old ground what have we found? The same old fears Wish you were here. Big Fish Kevin, he always was. Over the Pink Floyd wafting in my head, I could hear Norma Desmond say, with her dramatic hubris, I am big. Its the pictures that got smaller!