Bobby Stitch | Michael Milardo
Excerpt from Chapter 7 – “Black Doors and Dreams”
It was a day for change and, hopefully, saving lives.
And maybe, I thought as I awoke at dawn Monday
morning and looked out at the green traffic light and its reflection
on the window of Wilson’s Gym, wishes I had made upon
a star could come true. At least, one of them could.
Sunday’s events had jump-started my hopes. As planned,
Dowie and I had met at seven that morning to run our first mile
together, crossing the Arrigoni Bridge into Portland, and then
returning to Middletown. Bundled in gray sweats, towels
wrapped around our necks and shoulders and stuffed into our
sweatshirts, making our upper bodies look freakishly and laughably
large, Dowie pretended he was a professional trainer and I
was a young title contender, though for which title neither of us
was sure. As we huffed and puffed along the way toward Portland,
a chilly breeze blowing our hot air back into our faces, fogging
my glasses, we discussed Saturday’s fiasco at the Palace. I
was relieved Dowie had mentioned none of it to his parents,
and then I told him about Louise kissing me on the lips, or at
least how I thought she had kissed me on the lips. Lying in bed
Saturday night, unable to sleep, I had gone over it again and
again, still trying to decide if it was true, at times convinced that
it was, then doubting it as I touched my lips where I thought she
had kissed me, imagining her kiss again. If only she had worn
lipstick I would have evidence that she had. Suddenly my heart
raced, and there was hope for truth. Lipstick! Immediately I got
up out of bed, went into the bathroom and turned on the light.
Sticking my face close to the mirror above the sink, hoping that
to make herself look like a young woman maybe Louise had
begun wearing lipstick, I searched for a trace of red or pink, but
there was none. Turning off the light, sighing in disappointment
and convinced that I might be going crazy, I returned to bed and
after about another hour of torment and debate, I finally fell into
a fitful sleep.
It was a day for change and, hopefully, saving lives.
And maybe, I thought as I awoke at dawn Monday
morning and looked out at the green traffic light and its reflection
on the window of Wilson’s Gym, wishes I had made upon
a star could come true. At least, one of them could.
Sunday’s events had jump-started my hopes. As planned,
Dowie and I had met at seven that morning to run our first mile
together, crossing the Arrigoni Bridge into Portland, and then
returning to Middletown. Bundled in gray sweats, towels
wrapped around our necks and shoulders and stuffed into our
sweatshirts, making our upper bodies look freakishly and laughably
large, Dowie pretended he was a professional trainer and I
was a young title contender, though for which title neither of us
was sure. As we huffed and puffed along the way toward Portland,
a chilly breeze blowing our hot air back into our faces, fogging
my glasses, we discussed Saturday’s fiasco at the Palace. I
was relieved Dowie had mentioned none of it to his parents,
and then I told him about Louise kissing me on the lips, or at
least how I thought she had kissed me on the lips. Lying in bed
Saturday night, unable to sleep, I had gone over it again and
again, still trying to decide if it was true, at times convinced that
it was, then doubting it as I touched my lips where I thought she
had kissed me, imagining her kiss again. If only she had worn
lipstick I would have evidence that she had. Suddenly my heart
raced, and there was hope for truth. Lipstick! Immediately I got
up out of bed, went into the bathroom and turned on the light.
Sticking my face close to the mirror above the sink, hoping that
to make herself look like a young woman maybe Louise had
begun wearing lipstick, I searched for a trace of red or pink, but
there was none. Turning off the light, sighing in disappointment
and convinced that I might be going crazy, I returned to bed and
after about another hour of torment and debate, I finally fell into
a fitful sleep.
No comments have been added yet.
