"He's a magician, your dad is."
Her boy flicked the lights on and off on and off.
His face hid behind his hair
"Makes me feel like my arms are in the kitchen, my legs are in the living room, my belly is in the bedroom. This is
(more) a trick, but its not funny. You feel the same way, eh?"
He flicked the lights on and off on and off. His dad's pale yellow truck was still missing. He looked to the edge of the bare hill in the distance, where the road squirreled around so far that he couldn't follow it with his eyes anymore. He couldn't see that far, but he could remember strong enough that he knew that the truck would pass over the hills any minute now and his dad would see the flicker of the porchlight and he would know that his family was waiting for him.
He could imagine it, but no imagination was strong enough to bring his dad back.
Yesterday he left and his mom shouted, "If you leave now, don't ever come back."
He chased the pickup truck down the driveway and jumped in it. As soon as his dad saw that he was there, he stopped, picked him out of the truck like he was a parcel of meat.
His mom had run out to get him. After his dad lifted him up, he gave him a good, long hug, then handed him off to his mom and drove off past where the road disappears behind the mountains.
He flicked the lights one last time and shook his head yes. Yeah, he felt broken up by it too. He knew that his dad was gone gone, and that the flicking of the lights was for him.
Still he did it. (less)
