Part 4 (2/2)
”You're having a baby,” Caleb smiled. ”Get used to four hours' sleep.”
Shane found running clothes in his bag. As he changed he was aware of Caleb watching him. He almost asked him then: what do you need that you can't explain in your seven-point handwriting? But Caleb wanted to hike, he guessed, because he wanted to speak privately.
Caleb was pointing. ”Hey, that s.h.i.+rt.”
Shane had brought an ancient Grateful Dead concert s.h.i.+rt he had purchased in Seattle in 1989. It had holes in both sides, was yellowed under the arms.
”I remember you screaming at Mom for putting that in the dryer.”
Shane glanced down. ”I guess you can tell you're getting old when your favorite s.h.i.+rts become workout s.h.i.+rts.”
Walking downstairs he mentioned, ”Hey, before we go, I need to eat something.”
”We eat at five.”
”Yeah, okay. But it's twelve. All I ate was a m.u.f.fin at the airport.”
”We don't have anything.”
”You don't have anything?”
”You can do it,” Caleb a.s.sured him, turning through the kitchen.
Shane acquiesced. In contrast to his bl.u.s.ter with Janelle, his goal was to play ball here, to accept Caleb's world, and keep all paths open. A sound he recognized caught his ear from down the hall, but he followed his brother out the back door.
At the far end of a crudely constructed deck, three wood planks led down to an expanse of beautiful, pristine wild tallgra.s.s, which opened to the base of South Boulder Peak. On the deck, an older man with a bare chest covered in white hair raised a hand. His head was shaved close, and he held the posture of a naval officer.
”Hey John, this is my brother.”
”Welcome,” John said amicably as they shook hands. John's grip was sure. ”Enjoy round two,” he exclaimed, patting Caleb's back.
”How far have you run today?” Shane asked as they crossed the field at a quick walk.
”Just six.”
”Miles?”
Caleb shook his head. ”Hours.”
The heat hit Shane then, intense, energy-sapping. He felt trapped and vulnerable, without any cover or shade. Half a mile later they approached the beginning of some winding trails, ascending up into the trees. The start of the mountain.
”Mom's good?” Caleb asked him suddenly, as they started.
”She's all right. Considering.”
”Considering what?”
”She hasn't seen her son in eleven years.”
Caleb said nothing. Shane felt a need to stop the tension he felt mounting.
He tried to say something lighthearted, but the chemicals of food deprivation were sludging through his frontal lobes, mucking up the action. He found it difficult to formulate thoughts. They moved into the shaded trails in silence.
And suddenly his world s.h.i.+fted. The shuffle of their sneakers on the dirt seemed shatteringly loud, the breath in his lungs felt pure. The metallic aftertaste of his flight, the stress of his drive, his resentment at the thought of their mother's pain, dissipated, and a pleasing la.s.situde enveloped him. A good hike, Shane decided, might be the perfect thing in the world.
”So, who's that girl?”
”At the house? June.”
”Is she your girlfriend?”
Caleb's stomach jumped, as somehow the smell of June's skin sailed out of the sky. ”No. We don't do that here.”
”Don't do what?”
”Have . . . girlfriends.”
”Is that like a policy?”
Caleb stared at him. Shane took a breath. Handling Caleb felt like tense negotiations with the North Koreans; they might break off at any time.
”We had a no dating policy at InterFinancial too,” Caleb added.
”Sure,” Shane answered, ”I can see how that would be tricky.”
They turned deeper into the woods, walking uphill.
”But you've been here eleven years. Are you doing the abstinence thing?”
”No. s.e.xual energy is very powerful for healing. It overcomes blockages in the body.”
”You guys use s.e.x for training?”
Caleb looked at him carefully. ”You shouldn't be out of breath yet.”
In front of them the narrow trail rose dramatically. Blue flies spun around their heads, spittlebugs frothed on plant stems.
”How do you do these trails,” Shane huffed, ”running?”
”How do you not?”
”My body doesn't work like yours,” Shane laughed.
”Sure it does. I don't have any body parts you don't.”
”Yeah, well your body is in a little better shape for it.”
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