Part VII: Time Warp 2000’s (Chapter 102)


I
’m hiding out in the car.

Even though the sun has gone down, it’s still hot out at least 85 degrees.

But it’s better than the heat inside the quadrant, the stickiness of family disapproval.

After the scene between Sheldon and Father Dan, I had to get away, away from all those people who would judge us, away from Nana. I can tell that her feelings have changed toward Sheldon; he’s no longer the golden-haired boy, the one who can do no wrong.

After all, he’s committed the unpardonable sin: slugging a priest, a family priest, no less.

Right up there with blatant adultery.

With his standing in the family knocked down a few pegs, Shel might as well go back to Pennsylvania, his head hung low.

I love it.

After eating the Double Bing I can still feel the sticky milk chocolate around my mouth I remember the portfolio of letters stashed in the trunk, and I get this urge to go through them, to find some old letters I had written to George, a prison pen pal, letters which were returned to me by the warden after George was paroled.

I’ve always liked men who play hard on the wrong side, but this one got a little too close.

Still, it’s been about two years now, enough distance for me. Besides, the thing with George was never very real more like a wild ride on Space Mountain scary, but never dangerous.

I root through the trunk, grasping for the canvas tent bag. I pull my rolled-up painting, the Prussian Blue masterpiece, out of the bag and feel its grainy back, the texture of sackcloth. On a whim, I take it into the car with me. Maybe after I go through my letters, I’ll take it back with me to the reunion.



I might even show it off to my people.

Soon, I find the packet of letters, tied together with a red satin ribbon, the closest to fiction that I’ll ever write.




Still, even though some of the details may be outright lies, the essence of what I wrote back then was true.

What I said was what I felt.

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