The Iow Review Volume 19 Issue 1 Winter Article 35 1989 Brothers Bret Lott Follow this nd dditionl works t: http://ir.uiow.edu/iowreview Prt of the Cretive Writing Commons Recommended Cittion Lott, Bret. "Brothers." The Iow Review 19.1 (1989): 99-111. Web. Avilble t: https://doi.org/10.17077/0021-065x.3724 This Contents is brought you for free nd open ccess by Iow Reserch Online. It hs been ccepted for inclusion in The Iow Review by n uthorized dministrr of Iow Reserch Online. For more informtion, plese contct lib-ir@uiow.edu.
Brothers Bret hott WE WERE GETTING rdio sttions you wouldn't believe, s will hp pen on the desert t night. We were heded bck from Phoenix in Tim's pickup, Mrs. Conoley's rocker-recliner tied down in the bed, ropes run bck nd forth cross tht so thing tight tht ll you see move might bck there were the strs bove us if you looked out the rer window. This ws the stretch of rod between Blythe nd Indio, tht first piece of Cliforni tht seems like it might lst yer before you mke the hills nd snd outside Plm Springs, then drop down in the low desert wrd Indio, which is the dte cpitl of the world. But tht ws still good sixty miles hed of us if it ws hundred yrds. Tim is my brother, though you might not be ble tell tht by looking t us. He's tller thn me, nd couple of yers younger. He is quiet guy, but he will hve his moments when he will sy or do something, nd you will count on lugh, it. We will be t or prty some such our shindig wives wnted us go, nd when re things looking the most ded he will wlk up me, his fce ll stright, nd sy, Do you hve dollr? Sure, I'll sy, nd go for my billfold. Good, he'll sy, I've got one o. Let's trde. Little jokes long this line. He's hevier thn me, o, nd he lwys hs been. He's not o hevy, little portly. Just hevy enough tht, sy, if we were in police line up, you wouldn't think we were reltions. His hir's little lighter, o, nd wvy, wheres mine is drk brown nd stright, which my wife sys is ctully limp. But the rdio sttions. The night out there s drk s tr except for those strs cutting out their own light mde this the perfect night for pick ing up rdio sttions from ll over, nd I ws flipping the rdio dil bck nd forth cross the numbers, listening here nd there for things. If I tuned in some sttion in Arizon or Cliforni I over skipped it, look ing for the exotic plces, plces I'd never been before. First there ws Boise, nd then hd come Slt Lke City, nd then some wn in Okl hom. Then, believe it not, we strted hering music with slide guitr nd some guy singing out soft nd sweet in foreign ngue. It ws beu tiful music: the slide guitr slow nd cler, someone else strumming regulr guitr, this quiet m-m sound, nd then it clicked. This ws 99 University of Iow is collborting with JSTOR digitize, preserve, nd extend ccess The Iow Review www.jsr.org
Hwiin music, like wht you'll her Don Ho do. I turned Tim. I sid, "Tht's Hwiin music. We're getting H wii." Tim lened forwrd over the steering wheel, turned his hed wrd the music. "Tht's right," he sid, nd esed bck in the set. The DJ cme on then, sid it ws Hwii. Hilo, he sid, nd the cll let ters, nd I nodded myself becuse I'd lredy figured it out on my own nd here ws my brother, who'd confirmed my suspicions. We were get ting Hwii out here between Blythe nd Indio. We were on our wy bck from wedding we'd gone in Phoenix. Some old high school friends of ours who'd been living gether out there for eleven yers hd finlly decided get mrried. Figure tht one out. Tim nd I we see some thought might of our old buddies out there, but we were wrong. Who would drive ll the wy out Phoenix see somebody get mrried? We two, in fct, were the only people other thn Don nd Din we knew. We ended up leving erly get the rocker recliner. We were picking it up for client of Tim's, this Mrs. Conoley, who, when she found Tim would be going Phoenix over the weekend, offered him one hundred dollrs bring it bck from her sister's. He is grdener. He is good one, o, nd cn count mong his clients severl people who live up in Newport Hills in big squred-off houses tht look out over ll the rest of us s if we were their personl serfs. He mkes good money t it, o, but you tke one good look t his hnds nd you cn see tht tht money didn't come esy: scrs nd cllouses nd bet, old red skin. He's got three Mexicns nd one Vietnmese in under him now, so he's doing ll right. Me, I m newsppermn. Hh. I drive truck for the Snt An Regis ter, dropping off bundles ll over Ornge County. You'll see me some times. I'm the big blue truck tht sps somewhere in the middle of your trct every morning, throwing bundles on some kid's drivewy. Tht's me, flshers nd ll going. It's n ll right job, I guess. Not s much money s Tim, but we've got little house. We're oky, Julie nd me. So we're in the desert listening Hwii. Modern world, I ws thinking, this is the modern world we're living in, when we strted losing the st tion. At first it ws little wve in the sound, little grte, s if 100
somebody'd been sprinkling Hwiin bech snd over the DJ's micro phone, nd then the world nd its shpe ok over, nd we strted moving out from under where those AM wves were lnding bck on Plnet Erth. Sttic strted in, shking through tht sweet music so tht the sound ws cler nd gentle, then shoved in sttic, then bck cler. This moving bck nd forth ws it ws music, the next tin foil. getting fster nd fster until one second I reched over the dil, strted fiddling with it gin, trying home in on Hwii, keep tht sound from the other side of the world here in side the cb of this truck. I lened closer nd closer the dil, stred t the green numbers, trying figure exctly which little line between 105 nd 130 brought Hwii here. "Turn it off," Tim sid then. "Just turn the goddmned thing off." He'd sid it loud, I guess. Too loud for inside the cb. I couldn't see much of his fce for the drk, but I knew he ws ticked. He never tlked very loud. I clicked the thing off, slowly lened bck in my set. I put one hnd on my lp. With the other I ok hold of the window knob, popped the win dow down crck. I looked out my window. There ws nothing but gresy brush out there, every few feet nother bush nd on nd on, one fter nother for s fr s you could see, ll the wy the mountins out there, blck s old engine oil, then the strs jutting out bove them. Tim hd been chewing over something since we'd picked up the rocker recliner. Mybe even before tht. Wht I remember is tht fter we'd left the wedding we'd followed the directions Mrs. Conoley hd given him, nd'd ended up in some posh neighborhood off Centrl Avenue. We pulled up in the circulr drive of this sne nd mortr house, nd climb ed out. Right then ft old womn o wering much mkeup nd not enough clothes?she hd on high-cut neon-ornge one-piece?cme out rushing the door nd ld us she didn't wnt the truck in the drivewy, but on the lley. We'd hd climb bck in, drive round the bck of the plce where the rocker-recliner st squre in the middle of n empty three-cr grge, oil spots in ll three slots. He pulled the truck up, turned off the engine. He reched under the set nd out pulled coil of rope, nd then we got out. We sod there few minutes, neither of us sying thing, witing 101
for tht old womn with no sense of bodily pride come out there, tell us wht ws up. We didn't dre step in the grge. Tim will be the first tell you you never go on someone's property without them knowing you're there, preferbly wtching you. He ld me once bout how he tripped silent burglr lrm houses like this will hve. He hd lened ginst window while trying get t some weeds under n olender next the house. A minute lter there in the were drivewy four cruisers prked t crzy ngles, doors open, officers squtting behind those doors, guns out nd cocked. They'd mde him surrender his hnd-clippers there on the spot. So we wited. And we wited, nd we wited some more. Mybe fif teen minutes lgether, the sun sliding down ll this time wrd the cot nwoods tht lined the lley behind us. Finlly Tim clled out, "Hello?" He pushed himself off the fender of the truck, ok few steps wrd the grge, then clled out gin. Nothing. He went tht wy the fifteen yrds the grge, out clling every few steps, then listening, until fi nlly he mde it the chir. I ws still hnging bck, only few feet from the truck. He looked down t the chir. "Shit," he sid, then lened over, pulled yellow slip of pper from the set. He looked t it, slowly wlked over me, shking his hed. He hnded me the piece of pper. It red: Grdener: This is the chir. You must be creful with it. It ws written in big, girlish hndwriting, the "i's" dotted with big circles, the cpitl letters three times bigger thn necessry. I looked up t Tim. I sid, "This is the chir. We must be creful with it." I lughed little, but he didn't, turned nd heded in the grge, strted muscling the chir by himself until I got there help. He strted out grdening by mowing lwns fternoons when we were kids. Actully, the lwns he mowed hd been my route, but fter couple of yers of it I gve it over him. Of course t tht time I didn't know wht he would do with it, didn't know he would end up more mking money per yer thn me, tht I would even end up mowing yrds for him 102
for money s I did one summer when I'd been lid off t the newspper. But it mkes me him his strt. hppy be ble sy I sponsored the guy bck then, got From then on out ll he wnted were things tht he could use for gr dening: for Christms one yer he got wheelbrrow, nd one birthdy he'd gotten second-hnd gs edger. For high school grdution he got front-throw reel mower. I ws hppy ll those yers getting BB gun for Christms, or blswood irplne for or new birthdy, tires for my '63 Nov, which is wht I got for my grdution. And ll those yers I ws t looking my nutty brother nd his grdening stuff, wondering wht went on inside tht hed of his. Which is wht I ws thinking when, right fter he'd jumped on me turn off wht little bits of Hwii we could hve hd long with us, he turned me nd sid, "I'm quitting being grdener." I turned him. He'd lredy looked bck out the windshield the rod nd tht broken white line, the only thing lter wht you sw out there in the light nd disppered. I sid, "You're us like we were from the hedlights the occsionl bt tht swung down t pissed tht womn. ds or less." At letting us wit, ignoring Tim ws still out looking the windshield. He sid, "I'm not pissed. It's not tht. I del with tht crp every dy, people regrding you s if you were trsh becuse you do something the ground nd you do it with your hnds. I've put up with tht since dy one." All I could see ws his profile, blck there in the cb, beyond him, out his window, gresy bushes, blck mountins, those strs. "Then wht is it?" I sked, nd I wited for n nswer. I wited, but when fter couple of minutes he didn't sy nything, I shrugged my shoulders. Then I lened forwrd, strted rech for the rdio. I ws lonesome for Hwii, for Boise, Boulder, nywhere, but when my hnd uched the knob, Tim sid, "Don't." He'd lmost whispered it this time. I looked t him. He hd turned me, nd I could see the fintest fce, the green light cst from the dshbord filling in his cheeks, his chin, his forehed. His eyes were still gone, still in there somewhere. He looked bck nd the rod. He clered his throt, scooted round in his set. He sid, "You know," spped. He ok breth. "You know," he strted gin, "Lew's 103
wife died. Betty. Sundy morning." Lew ws my brother's next-door n neighbor, old guy, in his seventies, Tim hd once ld me. He ws big guy, six-two nd thin, his white hir slicked bck on the p nd sides. I'd met him only once, when I'd been over t Tim's borrowing of ll things lwn mower. Lew hd wlked up the drivewy, sid Tim, "Who's this bstrd going bscond with your professionl mterils?" We'd ll lughed, nd he gve me this smile. He hd bd teeth on p nd botm, but he hd the esiest smile, so simple you didn't even mind the teeth, the kind of smile tht mde you feel like you'd known him since you were kid, like he knew the good nd bd of you ll t once. I'd never met Betty, though. All I knew bout her ws tht she'd hd stroke three or four yers go, nd this I'd herd from my wife through Tim's. "Mssive brin hemorrhge," Tim went on. "She'd been in the hospitl three weeks when she died. The night she hd the hemorrhge, the night she went in the cme out hospitl, everything the house. It ws three in the morning. Police, fire trucks, mbulnce, the works cme out for it. Beth nd I wtched the whole thing from the bedroom. We thought they'd hd fire or something." He went quiet, nd nother bt fell in the light of the hedlights, then shot bck up. It disppered, little brown chip in nd gone. He put both hnds on the wheel. I could tell he wnted sy this, fi nlly figured tht this ws wht he'd been on working in his hed the whole trip, nd so I settled in, let him tlk. When he hd something sy he would sy it, nd we hd ll the time we could use get cross this desert. "I ws mowing the yrd," he strted up. "Sundy morning, bout seven, when Lew pulls up. He sits there in his cr minute before the mor's off. I knew tht she'd died. I could tell. He didn't even hve get out of the cr. I cut the mower right then. "We used mow our lwns gether, I ws thinking. Lew nd I used get up every Sundy morning nd do our lwns, mtch ech other stroke for stroke up nd bck. We both hd Bermud in front, nd we'd hve contests see who could cut his lwn closest without green. Tht's wht I ws thinking bout." He spped, looked out his side window second. "Keep going," losing the I sid, 104
though I knew he'd go hed whether I sid nything or not. "Azles," he sid. "The mn hd zles in the flowerbeds in the front yrd, long the sidewlk, next the milbox. He hd them in his bck yrd, o. Aginst the bck fence. Bordering the ptio. Azles." I tried picture zles, but couldn't get nything gether. All I could remember of Lew's yrd were green bushes. Just bushes me. "All colors," he sid. "Violet, white, pink, red. Azles everywhere. You know why? It ws becuse Betty loved them. When things blos somed, the whole yrd went crzy. So much color. Pink nd white nd red. Azles." I reched up the visor, out pulled the pck of cigrettes he hd wedged up there. It ws time for nother cigrette. The lst ones we hd were ll the wy bck t Gil Bend. We'd bought the t pck Circle K before we'd on gotten the freewy out. We figured we'd need the things in order pss the time, nd now here ws the time. A sign we'd pssed minute or so before hd let us know we were only nine miles from Desert Center, Desert Center not even being hlfwy Indio. I out pulled cigrette, then gve the pck Tim. He shook one out, gve me the pck put bck bove the visor. He pushed in the lighter. We got the things lit, nd I ok in the first hrd smoke. I knew I'd ctch hell from Julie for this when I got home, s I've quit the nsty hbit four times in recent memory. But smoking now ws different, I would tell her. There is distinct difference, I would sy, between smoking the desert nd smoking while throwing bundles out the bck of your truck. This smoking ws oky, I would sy. Tim on pulled his cigrette, didn't even inhle it. He shot out the smoke, then went on. "He hd Bermud there in the front," he sid, "nd Sint Augustine in the bck, tht stuff with the wider bldes. The thick stuff you need cut s close s the Bermud. And the trees he hd over there were ll things you could et, I ws thinking. In the front yrd he hd n olive tree, nd round the side ws yrd tree. plum In the bck he hd dwrf lemon nd ornge trees, plnted in those ok hlf brrels. He hd n vocdo tree, nd tree pech bck there. And ginst the other side of the house he hd grpe rbor. He ld me it ws Betty who wnted trees, trees tht would grow things you could et. Tht's in why he plnted everything." We st there few minutes, quiet. I ws hving good time with the 105
cigrette, tht menthol ir down in my lungs like some old friend. "He used bring her out in the sun while we worked on our yrds," Tim sid, nd I could tell by his voice tht he ws smiling tlking bout this. He ws hppy. "He'd set up lwn chir in the middle of his drive wy, then wlk her out nd set her down in the sun, nd then we'd hve t it. She st there without moving, you know, becuse of the stroke, nd she wtched us. Sometimes Beth would come out, o, mybe brush out her hir for her, or sit next her in one of our own lwn chirs, nd tlk her. The four of us would be out there in the sun, there." His voice crcked little, nd I ok it be the cigrette. Mybe he'd fi nlly decided inhle, I figured. He let out his smoke, ok deep breth. "Some nights I'd lie wke nd think bout wht it would be like," he sid, this time little slower, little quieter. "Wht it would be like hve those things worry bout. Just your own yrd, your own trees, your own zles. Nobody else's. Some nights I'd get up nd look out the bedroom window t Lew's yrd, nd wonder. And I'd strt envying him, even though he hd wife who'd hd stroke, who he hd tke cre of ll the time." He spped second, reded himself in the set. "He fed her," he sid. "He wshed her hir. He ok her the bth room. He tught her wlk gin. Ech dy for seven months he mde her get out of bed nd tke step, one more step ech dy, until by the sev enth month he'd gotten her wlk ll the wy the kitchen." We'd finished our cigrettes by now, nd t lmost the sme time we both reched stub things out in the shtry. Tim didn't notice tht he'd lmost burned hole in the bck of my hnd, his eyes so fixed on the s phlt in front of us. Tim hd gotten me thinking of Julie, though, nd I tried imgine for few seconds doing ll those things for her, cre tking of her, but I couldn't come up with no nything, rel pictures in my hed of her len ing over the sink, me scrubbing her or sclp, of me tking her the bth room. I couldn't muster those pictures. I shook out nother cigrette then, which of course would mke it two in row, which of course constitutes tking up smoking gin, didn't cre. I relly didn't cre. I wnted Tim keep tlking. I put the pck in my front shirt pocket, in popped the lighter. "Tht's ugh," I sid. "Tht's ugh life, for certin." And it ws, o, I figured. The lighter popped, nd I ok it out. but I 106
Tim hdn't herd thing. He stred out the windshield. He hdn't even noticed my second cigrette. "So wht I did ws this," he sid. "It'd been three weeks since Lew hd uched his not yrd, since Betty'd gone in the hospitl. Lew hd l redy gone in the house by this time, so I pushed the mower out on the sidewlk nd went over his yrd nd went in on his lwn. It ws ll I could think do. I hd t it. I mowed his grss s close s I could, nd then I mowed it gin. Then I ok out the edger nd went ll the wy round the yrd. Then I turned the dirt in the flowerbeds, then swept everything off?the sidewlk, the porch, the drivewy?nd then I hosed everything down. I could feel Lew me wtching ll this time, somewhere in the house, but it didn't mtter. I ws thinking bout the lwn, bout how it still didn't look right, something still didn't look good bout it. "Then I went round the side gte nd let myself in, wheeled the mower nd edger in, then hd t the bck yrd. I gve it the sme tret ment s the front. I never cut grss ny lower in my life. I swer it. "And ll this time Lew's bck there in the house, wtching me, I cn tell. I felt like he ws right there with me, right behind me sometimes, me wtching weed the beds, trim the yrd, dump grss in brrels. Some times I'd look out the corner of my eye the sliding glss window on the porch, but I never sw him. I kept on." He spped tlking, nd I think we both sw the rbbit t the sme time. It ws there ll of sudden, this skinny Western Jck, ll bck legs kicking out, ers blck-tipped sticking stright up. It'd run out on the highwy, then mde crzy turn nd strted zig-zgging up the rod, s if it thought it hd chnce of outrunning us. All this in second, the time it tkes you sit up nd tke cigrette out of your mouth, which is wht I did. Then it spped, st there like cuut in shooting gllery, the reflec tion of the hedlights in its eyes, tht ugly bright yellow. Tim swerved miss it, ok us off the rod on the shoulder, both of us bouncing up nd down in the cb, rocks nd grvel shooting up in the fenders nd sounding like fireworks. Then he swerved bck on the blckp, nd we were no riding right long, difference in ex nything, cept Tim. He hd both hnds on tight the steering wheel, st hunched up over it. "Relx," I sid, even though I ws still feeling the rocks in my smch, 107
o. "Just relx. It ws only rbbit." But Tim st there, whispered Son of bitch once, then went quiet. Two cigrettes lter we hit Desert Center, poke up of n over lights, pss, nd then we were bck on the desert. I'd lredy smoked hlf the pck, nd the ws guilt strting wer off. Cigrettes will do tht you when you strt up gin. The first couple of them will mke you feel s s guilty ll hell, like everyone you know or ever knew who'd smoked nd quit or hd never even strted were wtch ing you, but long bout the tenth one down, hlfwy through tht first pck, you strt thinking Hey, I deserve this. These cigrettes re oky. My rewrd. And then the eyes of everyone on you strt dropping wy, fding out, until you're the only one, you nd tht friendly cigrette there t your lips. Tht ws how I ws feeling. Tim hdn't sid word bout the cig rettes yet, nd I didn't imgine he would. Julie ws still couple hundred miles wy, probbly getting redy for bed now in little house in Grden Grove, where on good dys you could ctch hint of the ocen in the ir, the slt nd the green of it. I smiled t nothing, then turned Tim. not done yet, re you?" He didn't move. I sid, "You wnt nother smoke?" "Keep going," I sid. "You're He nodded then, quick jerk of his hed, nd I ws there with cig rette lredy pulled out for him, hd the lighter pushed in before he got the cigrette settled between his fingers. When the lighter popped I pulled it out, nd Tim lened over. I put it his cigrette, the ornge glow lighting up his fce, nd I could see his eyes for the first time since the sky hd gone drk. were They little glssy, mybe little wet. He pulled wy, nd I put the lighter my own cigrette. I sid, "Hit it. Get on with the sry." "Things," he sid, nd tht ws it for minute. He st there, lened his hed one side. "Things, things still didn't look good," he sid, nd now his voice ws ll low, lmost whispering, nd I tried figure wht ws coming next. I didn't hve n ide in my hed. I thought tht I could figure this guy out, thought I knew wht he would do one minute the next. Now his words were ll quiet, his eyes full. He s might well hve been crying. 108
"Things still didn't look good," he sid gin. "I figured good trim nd cut nd weeding would do the trick, but it didn't. So I went my grge nd got out the grden shers. Tht ws it, I knew. Things hd be cut bck. Things were shggy. I strted with the olenders long the left fence in his bck yrd. Then I got pir of pruning shers nd cut bck his rosebushes ginst the bck fence. They didn't relly need it, but I still cut the hell out of them. And ech snip, ech brnch flling bck mde me feel better. "I finished tht, nd then I strted in on everything else in his bck yrd. I cut everything bck. I knew he ws wtching me, but I didn't look see if I could ctch him. I got pir of lopping shers from my grge, nd cut bck his vocdo tree, his pech nd plum trees. I cut bck brnches until it looked like ded winter nd some big srm hd rn leves, brnches, everything off. I went bck the grpe rbor nd cut the hell out of everything bck there. Everything will come bck, I ws thinking. It'll ll come bck. And then I went t the zles. I got down on my knees nd strted trimming nd shping nd trimming some more. Tht ws when Lew finlly cme out." He ok swipe cross his eyes with his forerm, his cigrette wving through the ir in the cb. He'd only tken one drg, nd I knew the sh must hve been n inch long if it hdn't fllen in his lp yet. If it hd, he hdn't mde move, hdn't noticed thing. His eyes were on the rod, both hnds bck on the wheel. He ok deep breth. "I looked up from the flowerbed," he sid, "nd there he ws with his rms crossed, his hed lowered. He didn't look t me, only t the bushes. He nodded, nd I went on. I didn't sy nything. "He went round the yrd then. He went the rbor nd uched the brnches, went the ornge tree nd put his hnd round the trunk. He squtted down nd rn his hnd cross the grss, tht grss I'd cut so short. Then he cme over nd wtched me finish shping the zles. Then I led him in the front yrd nd strted working on the zles there." He spped gin, ok nother breth. He seemed relx, nd ok one hnd off the steering wheel. "We never sid word. There ws nothing sy. He wtched me. And then I cme home. I went in the kitchen the sink nd strted running the wter so I could wsh my hnds, nd when I looked out the window over the sink, there ws Lew, stnding out in the middle of the street. He'd gone in the house nd brought out 109
cmer. It ws n old thing, ncient. But there he ws. He hd the thing up his fce, nd he ws tking picture of the house, of the yrd. He ws tking picture." He lened forwrd, stubbed out the cigrette he'd tken only one drg from. Tht ws it. He'd finished his sry. He put his right hnd on the wheel, moved his left hnd his forehed, his elbow ginst the window. I wited few seconds. "Tht's sd," I sid. I turned him. "Tht's sd bout his wife." I finished off my cigrette, then let three more telephone poles pss us before I sid, "If you're relly quitting grdening, then I'll tke your route over. I'll tke it off your hnds." I ws serious, o. I sid, "I'll tke the dirt on my hnds over newsprint ny dy." I lughed little, then coughed, felt the smoke down there lredy settling in my lungs. He turned nd looked t me. He didn't sy nything, looked t me. I sid, "Hell, it mkes sense, doesn't it? I gve the dmned over thing you when we were kids in the first plce, if you'll remember. It ws me who gve you my business. Who else would you give it? I'm your brother, remember?" I ws t smiling him. He turned bck the rod. Then he slowly shook his hed. He rolled down his window ll the wy, his rm pumping the hndle round nd round s fst s he could. The wind from outside shot in the cb, wrm wind from off the des ert. You wouldn't think the ir would be tht wrm, so everything drk out there, but it ws. Tim put his elbow out the window, tht piece of him sticking out in the drk. "Too much cigrette smoke," he sid bove the ror of the wind. "Too goddmned much cigrette smoke," he sid. He ws still shking his hed. I put my hnd up my shirt pocket, felt for the pck. I pulled it out, put my two. finger in the p of it. There were only two cigrettes left. Only "You're right," I sid, more myself thn nybody. I coughed, nd there ws tht smoke gin. "You're right," I sid so he could her me. I ok the pck, shoved it up bove the visor, up there where it belonged. I reched for the rdio, turned it on. I wheeled tht knob bck nd forth ten times before I turned the thing off. Hwii ws long gone. There ws nothing. Not even sttion from Indio or or Blythe Desert Center, if they hd one. Only sttic ll the wy cross. 110
I st bck, looked t Tim, my brother, sw his profile, his wvy hir jumping round in the wind. I tried figure him out. I tried figure wht he would do next. He hd be hungry, I knew tht. The lst thing we'd hd et ws sliver of wedding cke two hundred miles nd rocker-recliner behind us. I knew he ws hungry, nd I imgined us dropping down in Indio, down in ir even wrmer thn this, the low spred of lights below us tht would be Plm Springs. We would pull in Denny's, go in nd tke sols t the counter, wit for n over-tnned witress come up us, sk us wht we'd like. And I'd look t her, thin wrinkles beside her eyes nd under her chin from ll tht sun, nd I'd look t my brother, the sme one sitting here with me in this cb, nd, lighten things up bit, I'd sy the witress, Would you guess we were brothers? Look t us. Would you guess tht? I even might len over wrd him, put my rm round his shoulder, give grin like wht kids will do in pho booths. We're brothers, I'd sy. Believe it? Ill