9

 

       ERIC

 

    It is nothing without him, like carrying air.  I sit it down on the grass, tilting it back and forth so's it won't slip when he goes to sit.  The grass is a little slippy.  It lays down flat when you step on it but it bounces back up after you're gone.  Shoulda been cut.  He'll hear it from her, and I'll hear it from him.  The chair needs to be rewebbed.  It's probably as old as          he is.  There is a coldness that climbs up and down my arms when I think about it.  Daddy says he hopes somebody shoots him before he gets like that.  Before he gets like Grandpa.  And Mom laughs and says it won't be long now.  And they both laugh.  Like it was funny.  It can't be funny.  It's like something that happens to          And then          Sometimes I think it waits like a          somebody around a corner just waiting to jump out and laugh when you jump.  And then it's all

    The chair is still empty.  He moves like his legs were tied to something--like a puppet.  Doug is just like a cane.  No different.  It don't matter to him which is the cane and which is Doug.  Maybe I should help, but I can't.  It's like the insides of a deer.  It's warm but it ain't alive, and I can't make myself touch it.  The coldness climbs my arms again.  I shouldn't think like that.  God knows that I think like that and knows that I know it is wrong.  But there is times when no matter what I think, it don't matter.  I think, He is your Grandpa and you should not think about him that way, and I say, Yes.  And then the shiver          and I can't even look to see where he is.  The chair is still empty.

    The webbing should be replaced.  I will do that.  I will do that.  I will cut the grass.  Maybe he will want the trees pruned, and I can do that too.

    The leaves are just a little wet.  The breeze that makes the water fall is warm, and it feels funny to have them both--the breeze and the water--together.  Like when it rains when it is hot and the sun is out.  Like a mistake in the sky.

    He falls into the chair like he was falling from the sky.  With the rain that comes with the warm breeze.  It is all like a dream.  I step away from the chair.

    The dog rattles his chain.  Daddy and Susan are looking at Grandpa.  Daddy looks mad.  Grandpa squirms around in the chair for a minute.  Without looking, I know he is looking, puzzled, at the back of his hand.  Eric?  Eric, is it raining?

    Daddy peels the sheets of paper off the meat and spreads the patties over the coals.  The smoke rises, as the water and grease start to drip, and blows into Wes's face.  But he doesn't blink.  He doesn't seem to know that I'm looking at him.  He is busy looking at Grandpa.  Nothing in his eyes but Grandpa.

    No, Grandpa.  It's just water from the trees.