A Horse Named Sorrow

45

196 45 Carl was right. It was the most beau­ ti­ ful place on earth. All morn­ ing I rode ­ through roll­ ing hills with big ­ orange rocky ­ cliffs off in the dis­ tance, the sun ­ bright and ris­ ing to­ ward noon. I’d ­ lucked onto a good road with lit­ tle traf­ fic, and the pan­ cakes and cof­ fee and ­ warmth had­ cheered my mood, so it was just me and Jimmy and the world wak­ ing up, bleed­ ing out into the end­ less empty ­ places that ­ stretched so far in every di­ rec­ tion ­ around me, I’d get dizzy in the look­ ing. But some­ thing sad ­ trailed in my wake too—my mind on how these were all ­ places Jimmy had ­ passed ­ through and left be­ hind, never to see again. I was run­ ning back ­ across it all, eras­ ing them for good, like some old words left be­ hind on the black­ board of Jimmy. I ­ thought about him, look­ ing down at my legs and feet as I ped­ aled: his dark hairy shins, dir­ tied with ­ grease from the bike chain mak­ ing these same mo­ tions. He saw all the same beau­ ti­ ful ­ places, ­ smelled the same sage and ju­ ni­ per, felt the same sun, heard the same hawks cry­ ing out in the sky. I felt then he’d given me this. This whole world out here, like a part­ ing gift. Two hours later, I was pump­ ing up a rise, hav­ ing ­ reached the high red ­ cliffs I’d been watch­ ing in the dis­ tance, when ahead I saw a blue­ pickup on the shoul­ der, with its hood up. ­ Stalled, I sup­ posed. As I got­ closer I could see a ­ long-haired man work­ ing on the en­ gine. And then—I ­ couldn’t be­ lieve my eyes: what ­ looked like Eu­ gene came spill­ ing out of the pas­ sen­ ger door with a ­ wrench in his hand. 197 “No way!” I said out loud to my­ self, ­ stopping my bike ­ abruptly a hun­ dred yards away. It can’t be him—that would be like Jimmy smoke ris­ ing right out of the bag like a genie. Ge­ nies, like ­ churches, who of­ fered three ­ wishes: Eu­ gene, Eu­ gene, Eu­ gene. I ­ coasted for­ ward to­ ward the truck, like a wary dog, my heart bang­ ing­ around like how it had the day I first set eyes on him. He ­ didn’t see me at first, as he’d ­ hopped ­ around front to give the ­ wrench to the man work­ ing on the en­ gine. But then his head ­ popped up, and look­ ing like a dog him­ self that could see move­ ment in the dis­ tance, he ­ walked out into the road eye­ ing me as I ­ slowly ap­ proached, still ­ nearly a hun­ dred yards down the road. “Eu­ gene!” I ­ called, un­ con­ trol­ la­ bly smil­ ing, and that asym­ met­ ri­ cal grin of his ­ erupted ­ across his face as he rec­ og­ nized me and came run­ ning down the yel­ low line in his ­ clunky army boots and the same black hoo­ die from our night to­ gether in Eu­ gene. I ­ pumped ­ harder on the ped­ als so as to reach him—and when I did, I ­ nearly ­ spilled my­ self off the bike, brak­ ing ­ abruptly and throw­ ing out my arms. We ­ hugged over the han­ dle­ bars, Jimmy right at our ­ crotches. And I felt Eu­ gene bleed into me. I ­ didn’t want to let him go; I ­ wanted to tell him about the dream where I saw his eyes and the buf­ falo and about him on the movie ­ screen and how sorry I was about Cus­ ter and all them; ac­ tu­ ally I ­ wanted to say noth­ ing and just take him over into the ditch and make love there for an hour. Let my body tell him, let my mouth and eyes and hands and feet and arms and legs and cock tell him every­ thing I had to say while he did the same. Not a word. I loos­ ened my hold ­ though, con­ sid­ er­ ing he ­ wasn’t alone, and I was mys­ tified ­ besides at what he was doing out on this road in a ­ broken-down truck. This was not the way to the...