Part 5 (2/2)
His rental car was parked at its side; he could get in, eat a big steak in Boulder, drive to the airport, and be home in time to sleep beside Janelle, wrap his arm around her belly, and feel the kicking heels of whoever was inside waiting for them. But first he would raid their kitchen.
The trail widened into the field, and he walked the open half mile back to the house. Shane marched up the steps to the back door. In the kitchen, a short, dark woman with a long black braided ponytail stood over the sink. He stood in the doorway, streaming with sweat.
She smiled. ”Hey, you're Caley's brother?”
He shook his head, breathing impossibly hard. ”I'm really thirsty.”
The woman stood on her toes, opened a cabinet, and took out a pint gla.s.s with the faded words ROCKING HORSE TAVERN printed on its side. She poured tap water and handed it to him. Shane chugged and refilled it three times.
”I'm Rae,” she almost laughed.
”Anything to eat here, Rae? I'm starving.”
”Orphans in Sudan are starving. You're hungry.”
”Crackers? Banana?”
”'Fraid not. Supper's in an hour.”
”How do you guys live?”
”How do you?” she smiled, amused.
Shane shrugged agreeably.
”Your brother's one of my favorite people. He's always so busy. I don't see him as much as I'd like to.”
”Me neither.” He hoped the resentment in his tone was apparent. ”Where's the shower?”
”Upstairs, to your left.”
Shane went weakly through the kitchen door. The main room of the house was enormous. People milled about with what seemed to him to be very clear purpose. He looked for June but didn't see her. On the stairs he had to grab both railings to steady himself.
”Caley take you out hiking?” a grinning young guy asked him.
Shane nodded.
”Don't let him brutalize you.” The guy squatted beside him. ”I'm Kevin Yu. Caleb's roommate.”
They shook hands. Carefully, Shane asked, ”How's he doing?”
”Great. He rocks, man.” Kevin waved some people over. ”Hey, meet Caleb's brother.”
This drew a crowd. People gathered around the stairs, peppered him with questions. f.u.c.k, Shane thought, my brother's a Beatle.
He went back down to the couch with them. Why not? No one else here seemed to care about showering, and he was cooling down with the house as the light faded out its windows. He listened to stories about his brother, insane races they had run, up mountains, through snowstorms and mudslides, on broken bones and under blazing sun. What concerned him was that none of these people seemed crazy. A couple of them had that weird gleam in the eye he had been expecting, like very committed Evangelicals, but nothing made him feel uncomfortable.
And suddenly everyone turned toward the front door.
A small man bounded into the house with the energy of a Labrador. His black beard was patchy, as if it had been stunted in childhood. He wore a swirling blue and yellow tie-dye, damp with sweat. But mostly Shane noticed his eyes. They were made of a blue unlike any other he had seen before. As if they were filled with souls.
Shane smiled and said, ”Hi, Mack.”
6.
”Hey,” Mack cried gleefully, ”the brother.”
Shane considered him: he was much smaller and slighter than he had expected. With the ponytail, the ungroomed beard, he might be sitting at a bar in North Beach, complaining about gentrification. Instead, he ruled seventeen impossibly conditioned athletes with a glance, possessed a reputation for faith healing, and according to Internet reports, could outrun any of them on their daily eight-hour sojourns.
As Mack walked into the house, the others seemed to part to make way for him. Shane stood and shook his hand, and followed him toward the mantel, where two younger housemates were starting the evening's fire.
”So finally,” Mack grinned. ”What took you so long?”
Shane stared at him. Was that mischief in his tone? He decided to return to his policy of respect. ”Thank you for having me. I'm glad to be here.”
”No worries. What do you do for work, Shane?”
”I'm in sales. Just starting for a biotechnology company.”
Mack's blue eyes intensified. ”Biotechnology? Let me ask you, I read this thing about biology once. It said the single-cell organism is the most perfect form of life on this planet. If you lost all the weak parts of us, the parts that are vulnerable to attack, to disease, and stripped us to our purest being, that's what we would be. A virus. The amoeba isn't what life's evolving from, it's what life's evolving to. You ever heard that?”
”I haven't. It kind of makes sense though.”
”Yeah?” Mack asked happily. ”I thought so. Hey so, where's big bro at?”
”Meditating on the trail.”
A warm bell sounded, and the sixteen present members of the Happy Trails Running Club appeared. They came from outside, upstairs, from places Shane had never noticed, and sat in front of the fireplace in a circle.
”So, we have a guest with us tonight,” Mack announced to them. ”Caleb's bro, Mister Shane.”
Immediately two members of the circle s.h.i.+fted, making s.p.a.ce. He sat down appreciatively.
”Hi, Shane,” came a chorus of voices from around him. Pats on the back, nods and smiles from across the circle.
Shane came alive a little, unable to resist the vibe. In its cloistered, warm ritual it reminded him of visiting a friend's fraternity house. They had established their own patterns, which happens, he thought, whenever people live together.
Rae, whom he'd met in the kitchen, and a taut young man with a buzz-cut named Hank brought wooden bowls filled with something that smelled very strong. Shane took his with a grateful thank-you and inhaled its steam, marvelously happy for it. He guessed it would be the healthiest dinner he had eaten in a while.
The conversation revolved around who was running tomorrow, and who was working. A woman talked about a dying deer she'd seen in Rocky Mountain National Park. The bowl held a thick stew of vegetables and herbs. Shane devoured it. When he stood to get more, Kevin quickly touched his arm.
”One helping.”
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