“I took riding lessons . . .”
“I found a glass-cutter and made drinking glasses from beer bottles for a while. After I’d make’em, I sold’em on the boardwalk in Venice until the police chased me away . . .”
“After the SATs I went to UCLA to study economics. I like numbers that do things in people’s pockets. It’s funny . . .”
“I never had sex with a girl yet . . .”
“I’ve never been in love . . .”
“ A nd are you sad like Dad?” Thomas asked after three hundred miles were gone.
“Not like him. I’m not really sad at all. I have everything I want. Especially now.”
“But you look sad,” Thomas said. “You don’t hardly smile, and your eyes are always movin’ around like you’re looking for something all the time.”
“Up until now I guess I’ve always been looking for you.
Dad tried to find you after a few years, but nobody even knew where your real father was. Finally they found him down in Texas, but by then he’d lost track of you.”
That f i r st n i g h t on the train from Phoenix, Eric slept while Thomas sat and looked at the moon out of his window.
Thomas felt safe sitting next to his brother. He didn’t care 2 4 2
F o r t u n a t e S o n
about being on the train or going to New York. He wasn’t afraid of the police finding him. The day Eric came to take him away, Thomas was already planning to leave. He thought he might go down to San Diego, where he’d heard a man could sleep under fruit trees and eat off their limbs for breakfast. But Thomas had a feeling of safety with Eric — between them they made something whole.
Thomas exhaled, and for a long moment he just sat there without taking air back in. The train lurched at a turn in the tracks, and he found himself breathing again, feeling deeply satisfied. For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t have to worry about who was coming or when his next meal would be or where he was going to sleep.
But looking out at the lunar-lit plains, Thomas began to think that he might die soon. Death made sense to him. So many people he had known were dead: his mother and Pedro and Alicia and Tremont, Bruno and Chilly and even RayRay.
He had been so close to Death for so long that he wasn’t afraid of Him. But he didn’t want to die, because he wanted to be with Eric. Having a brother meant he had something to live for.
“ E ri c,” Th omas wh i spe re d in the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“You know what I worry about all the time?”
“Not having any place to live?”
“Uh-uh. There’s always a place to stay or hide,” Thomas said. “The thing that always scared me was if one day I went crazy and forgot about back home with you and Mama.”
“Which one?” Eric asked.
“Which one what?”
2 4 3
Wa l t e r M o s l e y
“Are you afraid of going crazy or forgetting?”
“They’re both the same thing.”
Th e ne xt morn i ng, in Denver, a young black woman got on the train. The two seats next to Thomas and Eric were free, but she went to a single seat four rows down.
“She’s pretty,” Thomas said to Eric.
“I guess,” Eric said, not really looking.
“Did you ever think that we would be together again on a train going to New York?”
“No,” Eric said. “I thought that I would probably die before seeing you again.”
“You?” Thomas grinned.
“What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t think about you dying.”
“I think about it all the time.”
“Why?” Thomas asked.
A young white man moved to the seat next to the young black woman. Thomas felt that maybe he should have done that, but then he thought, no.
“I think about killing myself,” Eric said seriously.
“What for? You got everything. And you said you’re not that sad.”
“Sometimes I think that it’s because of me that other people get hurt.”
“That’s crazy,” Thomas said. “Nobody gets hurt over you.”
