“The Movement of Horses” by Adam Cushman
--page 9

         You may be wondering why someone would be allowed to speak to me in the way Dane just did and the answer is: a guy like me has to be able to forgive, or there would be mountains of dead people everywhere. People have died over less than this is all that needs to be said. Also, the whole booty call thing: That was made up. True, lining some up in any town in the country is something that could be done with a simple phone call, and sometimes by merely showing my face, but right now, this is just what Dane needs to hear for his own protection(19). He’s just so delicate and it’s not easy for me to tell him he turned out a bigger jackoff than it seemed at first. Also, Vera will be coming for me any day now. How do you tell your best friend in the world that you’re quitting the band and calling off the adventure of a lifetime over some broad, especially when this is someone who is pining for a lifetime friendship? This is a prime of example of not having enough of me to go around. I’m only one person God damn it. Why don’t people understand that?
         What we’re doing is sitting outside the Okahumpka service plaza finishing some sandwiches from Sbarro. Dane’s nervous about those two redheads he thinks are coming to bang us. He may be a legend with women, but right now, you would think he’s a pathetic little virgin with the way his jaw keeps moving back and forth and his cheeks are all red. He hasn’t even taken his hand off the wheel. What a freak, right?
         He crushes his sandwich wrapper into a ball, lights up his six hundredth cigarette of the hour and as he finishes chewing, says, “You are made of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails,” then goes, “You know the only reason I don’t go catch a bus is to see if you can tell the truth.”
         “Truth about what? Bro, these girls are wicked horny. They’re twins.”
         Dane laughing at this is an indication he might be a very gay man. Him covering his eyes afterwards and exhaling gives me every reason to believe this is true, which only justifies me ending this whole thing before he tries to blow me or something.

~

         “Wow!” is what Dane says when three hours later a light blue Camry pulls into the plaza. “These beautiful twins look exactly like my father?”
         As the Camry moves forward, the face of Ruben Palacios becomes unmistakably his own: Tan, droopy and not totally not resembling a raisin. His hair is short and combed straight in all directions like the black-haired Stooge.
         “He sees us,” Dane says, and then says, “Funny how he knows which car to look for.”
         Part of me wants to believe Ruben Palacios came home from Central America early because he found out his son was gone and had the tracking ability and undying love for Dane equal to my own dad’s. But this is not the truth. The truth is my mother. She’s gone and done it again.
         Dane’s dad backs into a spot across from ours and this is when Dane collects his stuff.
         “When your mother comes, or whoever comes for you, go to Guitar Planet and pick up what belongs to you. I will call from the car and arrange everything.”
         “How much will it cost?”
         “Listen to me: It is being held in the back. Just do as I say.” Dane’s Buzz Light Year eyes get all wet when he looks back at me and goes, “We were going home anyway, you know, and I would still be in deep shit. But I would have that guitar and it would have been worth it. But as pathetic as you are, I cannot do it. The thing is this: You and I would end up friends if you would just say the truth, even by nodding your head.” Dane looks at me for a few seconds then gets out pretty quick, which is probably why he doesn’t hear me say, “See you at school.” What happens next is Dane’s dad is standing by the open car door wearing a stark blue Polo tucked into bright white pants hiked up above his pot belly and with his hands behind his back, like he’s hiding something as Dane goes up to him. Now maybe the windshield in the Lincoln is dirty from the dead mosquitoes but it looks like after Dane says something, his dad punches him in the face really hard. First of all there’s a popping sound, but Dane also falls down on one knee, spits and rubs his jaw. Again, he may have just slipped or something. My eye itched at the time. Even so, there’s something very beautiful about a dad hitting his son to say hello. This is what makes us men. Our ability to show our feelings in a way that chicks just can’t understand. Dane must feel the same way because he gets in the car and stares straight ahead as they head out of the plaza, he doesn’t wave to me or anything. It dawns on me that this is probably the first time he’s had to take a punch, so maybe me calling my mom and her calling the school for Dane’s mom’s number and her calling Dane’s dad and him coming home from wherever to punch Dane in the face is actually a good thing. Sometimes you’re helping people and you don’t even know it. Maybe that’s what being best friends is all about.

~

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19 It may also be worth mentioning that news has reached me, the source of which must remain classified for now, that the bounty hunters are closing in fast. This is proof of how much a guy like me is loved in this world. That said, it is with great resolve for me to admit that the guilt is too much. Allowing the impressionable Dane to go down this dark path and have his soul crapped on forever is just not something a guy like me can live with.