Flights by Jim Shepard Read Free Book Online

baseball? I think he should learn Sanskrit instead,” he said to the house. “And we should hold weekly discussion groups to go over everything and make sure nothing’s wrong.” He resumed soaping, the only other sound the scraping of Kristi’s spoon on the pavement, the house quiet and giving no indication that anyone inside had heard.
    Later that night they watched The Game of the Week. Biddy and his sister were sprawled on the floor with the dog; their parents were in the two big chairs with the lamp between them. It was a small den. His feet went under his father’s chair and his head, his mother complained, was much too close to the television.
    The Orioles were leading the Royals in the third inning. Doug DeCinces led off with a long, looping double to right center, and as he slid into second Biddy’s father got up and changed the channel. A young woman hitched up her dress and ran across a railroad yard covered with the bodies of men in gray uniforms. He looked back over his shoulder at his father, waiting for an explanation. But his father only turned to his mother and remarked that it had been a good thing they hadn’t gone out. His mother didn’t respond.
    Biddy gave it a few minutes before he finally said, “What is this?”
    â€œ Gone With the Wind ,” his father said. “Good movie.”
    At the commercial Biddy rose to all fours and reached out, awkwardly, and flipped the dial.
    â€œWhat’re you doing, Biddy?” his mother asked.
    â€œI’ll switch it back,” he said. Dauer was standing on third and Kansas City had a new pitcher. He waited but nothing happened; the pitcher was warming up, so he turned back.
    â€œYou know,” his mother said, and at first he was unsure whom she was addressing, “it’s not like we go anywhere at all. And that’s not even the point. The point is that it doesn’t seem to matter anymore, what I want, what I’d like. It’s like if that fits into the plans, fine.”
    â€œIt does matter,” Biddy’s father said.
    His mother returned her attention to the movie.
    Biddy watched with her, the air humid and unmoving with the window open. Armies marched and cities burned. Men and women gazed at each other like starving animals or religious zealots. Kristi yawned and squashed a tiny spider creeping by on the rug.
    His father went into the kitchen during a commercial and returned with a big glass noisy with ice.
    â€œWhat’s that?” his mother asked. “You didn’t get me one?”
    â€œYou want one? I’ll get you one. Collins?” His father gestured with the glass. She nodded.
    They were quiet with their drinks for two or three scenes. His mother moved her chair closer and his father put an arm around her. The movie boomed on. There was some whispering and Kristi said, “I’m trying to hear.”
    At the commercial his mother went into the bathroom. When she came out, they both said good night and went to bed, shutting the bedroom door lightly.
    Biddy looked at Kristi.
    â€œI guess they made up,” she said. “See what else is on.”
    Two days later, they drove to Yankee Stadium. Eight of them, the Sieberts and Lirianos: Biddy, his mother, father, Kristi, Louis, Mickey, Ginnie, and Dom, for a game with the Brewers. Only Cindy remained home, preferring to watch The Band Wagon on television with her fiancé.
    They sat in the United Technologies box and his father felt lucky to have the seats. The Lirianos were in the front four, Louis at eighteen taller than his parents. He ate popcorn one piece at a time, gazing serenely out toward Gorman Thomas in center field and the scoreboard above him even as plays were made in the infield. Mickey, next to him, squirmed or groaned according to events on the field, banging his hands on the rail in front of him when Robin Yount ranged behind second only to have a ground ball carom up over his