Swing State by Michael T. Fournier Read Free Book Online Page A

someone. Even if they didn’t. Just be there. But she was all the way across. Couldn’t cut it. Had to play it cool. Like he didn’t care. That was better. Not sure why. Just was. He watched her walk around and down toward her house. He didn’t think she’d lived there before. Maybe she did. Her place now. Everyone knew. Artie told him. Old van in the yard. Colored paper in the windows.
    He knew the type. From school. Skinny. Wore big black glasses. Wrote in notebooks at lunch but called them journals.Listened to fucked up music. Not like radio stuff. But he didn’t remember her. They all looked the same. Were smarter. Talked about stuff he didn’t understand. Didn’t like sports. He remembered that. Right? All black? Always. Summer, winter. Didn’t matter. Sometimes an umbrella. No dog. Just a walk. Fucked up when her head hit. Changed.
    Still saw kids like that at the library. Writing in their journals. Reading their books. He just read box scores and car books. Foreign and domestic. Which did Artie do? He’d check. If domestic, maybe Artie knew someone. A network. Had to be like that. In basic they thought it was like that. Yeah, Peck always said. When we get back the shit is gonna be awesome. Come down to Bama and we’ll grill steaks. Get wasted. Go to a game. Every year. Bring our kids. Check out each other’s wives. He always said that. About the wives. They all laughed. Every time. He meant everyone would check out his. Peck, he knew. And they would. Bring your buddies. Their wives. Check them out, too. Friend of yours, friend of mine. Every year. Get to know some people. Good people. Help each other out. Thought he’d bring Artie. Christa. Talk about hunting, cars, football. Artie was a hunter. Went out every year. Looking for deer. Got a couple. Artie didn’t mention hunting since he got back. He usually just talked about that stuff. Probably didn’t because of what happened. He understood. Never much for it. Had a rifle, though. Artie gave it to him in high school. They went out once. Fucking boring. Like being overseas. Sat in a blind and waited. Deer never came. In Maine. Some family friend’s cabin. Great place. Drank a lot. Dirty cards. Said he’d go again. Cabin got sold.
    Common every day, but woods some. Yesterday he got up early. Nightmare. Headache behind his eyes. Someone chasing him.Didn’t know who. Or what. Sometimes tanks. Trucks. Dudes with guns. Couldn’t remember. Always being chased. Tried going back to sleep. Couldn’t. Went for a walk. L’il Bee parking lot full of cars. People buying coffee before work. No one in the woods. Too early. Ten minutes in he couldn’t hear cars. Air cold and damp. But different than in his apartment. A morning thing he remembered.
    He heard a crackle. A deer walked out. Huge. Stood there long enough to count points. Eight.
    Woods were posted. That was why. Signs on trees when he did walks. To the hearse, the quarry. He wondered if Tits was still sharp. Probably. Granite was strong.
    Roads during the day. Schaferville was far. At first thought he could get there and back easy. It was hard. Hilly. Both ways. Hurt his leg. And traffic. No sidewalk. Small shoulder. Cars hauling ass.
    After the woods yesterday and the common today he started walking it and couldn’t finish. Hurt too much.
    He went home. Got the mail. Never anything good. The
Armbrister Sentinel,
a bunch of official-looking stuff. From the army. No check. Another ten days. Knew those envelopes. Kept the rest in a pile on the table.
    He liked the paper okay. Wasn’t the
Globe
or the
Herald
. Big print. Easy. Short articles. About the football team. Good players. This one defensive back. Scholarship, probably, the paper said. Not Durham or Plymouth or Keene. A real school. Division I.
    He’d go see the one good defensive back. Keep walking. At night, pool. Dry lately. Only a few games a night. Lefty all the