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This message sent Wed, 07 Apr 2004 04:09:50 +0500 by:
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As Cath jammed the Mercedes into 'Drive' I leaned round and looked at my brother. He was standing on the porch, right hand curled round a glass. He didn't even wait to see us leave, just turned and went back into the house, leaving an empty cone of yellow light.He was kneading the scar like he wanted to push it back under the skin.I'll go and ring, I said.As Cath jammed the Mercedes into 'Drive' I leaned round and looked at my brother. He was standing on the porch, right hand curled round a glass. He didn't even wait to see us leave, just turned and went back into the house, leaving an empty cone of yellow light.Jesus! Don't you ever let up? Cath said. Don't talk to your wife that way. If anyone's made a sacrifice round here, it's Marion.Sounds great, I said. Frannie giving you guys redundancy money or something?Why not? You just have to want it badly enough.Cath was stone cold sober: she just stared at him.It's his fortieth in October, she said. I know you know that, Bill. I
just wondered if you and Cath could come out. He's had a rough few years and I think it would cheer him up.I grew up respecting Jim: he was more of a father figure than an older brother. Even when I started my own haulage business, taking loads from Boston down to New York and back, I looked to him for approval. It wasn't his business sense - he never had any. I just wanted him to say I'd done OK.We went to a steakhouse a few miles down the road. The hand-lettered sign outside was offering a two-for-one on 32oz sirloins. We pushed through the heavy-sprung doors into a steamy room full of contented Midwesterners chowing down on slabs of meat and baked potatoes. Not normally the kind of place Cath and I would eat at but Jim was happy. He knew lots of people, walking through to our table giving nods and high fives to big greasy guys in jeans and plaid work shirts, winking at their fat pretty wives.