They look like white Christmas stockings. He says he always gets his socks and shoes ready. You never know when you’ll have to run out somewhere. “It’s from my old war days. It stayed with me. We never took off our shoes when we were out in the field no matter how bad the jungle rot got on our feet. To take off your shoes meant you were half dead and they were taking them off so you could die in peace.” I position Chris’s socks on the nightstand and sit back on the chair. He’s sitting on the bed wearing corduroy walking shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes. I’ve never seen his legs before. They’re hairy, pale, thinner than I expected. The bed is a king-size with a glossy, orange comforter. It’s bigger than the queen-size I shared with Ray at our house on Canterbury Street. It makes me wonder if people really need all that room. “I hope someday you won’t have to put them out at all,” I tell him. “Someday.” Chris looks closely at me. “Relax. We’re adults, not kids.”
What do You think about Let Their Spirits Dance (2007)?
