The youthful image of her smooth thighs slid across my pubescent mind at odd moments. I'd be hitting a baseball into the lake, or looking at my father shining his business shoes, and there she'd be, unsummoned but not unwanted. At such times, I found my mind seized like my father's station wagon. All I could think was her. It was like the rest of my life was behind glass and she was the condensation of my breath on it. It was like someone is named Alton, my father is a generic businessman, religion is treated mystically, we're all Greek, and everything happens in Detroit.
Tommy Lawtner's escapades were always shared with us under the hedges his mother planted by their porch. The magnolia branches twitched with our excitement while we listened to his worldly stories.
And the stories! What stories! How they lived in India on a river boat with an old woman who never told them her name. Finding a purple flower at the top of a hill in Ireland, a symbol, so said his ancient nanny, of a violent death. It felt so far away from my life where someone is named Alton, my father is a generic businessman, religion is treated mystically, we're all Greek, and everything happens in Detroit.
Well back then we didn't have cell phones, did we? We didn't have your fancy computers and your fuckin' wingdings, did we? We just had good old-fashioned businessmen trying to provide for their greek families in, let's be fucking honest about it, Detroit. Yeah. Detroit. And yeah, oh yeah, I'm gonna bring up the race riots all the time. I'll mention the other stuff, but you know what you're here for. Thanks for the money, you post-grad-school pretentious nut sack.
Anyways, Claudia loved roller-blading in the spring, just like Aeneas.
The highlight of my young adult life, of course, was packing for our family vacation.
"Alton", said my mother at my father. "Don't forget your copy of The Iliad!"
My father bustled in, dressed in his usual blue suit. "I believe in God!" he yelled, as he was accustomed to. "But the numbers don't lie!"
I smoked my reefer in our 57 Oldsmobile and thought about literature, which I read. I didn't even know then how many of my friends were gonna kill themselves, but it was so many.
When Alton finally finished packing up his god stuff, we finally got on our much needed vacation to Detroit. Specifically, Grosse Pointe.