Jun 01 2000
Some Aprils in upstate New York school was canceled because of snow, and my brother and I imagined what life would be like if summer never came again. There were a lot of years like that, but I can only think of two amazingly warm Aprils, and this, the year of Wayne, is the second. It’s late afternoon, and I’m sitting in the woods out back, on a log at the edge of a small stream, thighs pulled close to my chest. I’ve been here for a while and have no intention of moving yet, so determined am I to show everyone. Right now there’s no one around to show, but I lay my cheek against my knee anyway, in the pose of someone wronged.