Читать книгу Saint in Vain - Matthew K. Perkins - Страница 15

The only building in the entire town that stood higher than two stories was the county’s lone hospital, which was every bit of three stories. Silvio routinely walked through its parking lot because it lay between his house and a large field next to the town’s largest trailer park, where he had recently adopted an abandoned shed that he used to feed the area’s stray cats. It was common for bedbound patients of the hospital to look idly out their windows and ask nurses about the young man lugging large bags of cat food. Nurses often responded to these patients with the enduring advice that the patient should get more rest. During his mornings at the shed, Silvio spotted what he counted to be a dozen unique cats, though, given his inability to decipher some of them that looked alike, he figured it to be anywhere upwards of seventeen. They went through a sixteen-pound bag of dry food every two days and he had already cleared an area within the decrepit space to place a space heater for the fall and winter chill.

The small buildings downtown were home to small business owners, with the exception of banks and insurance companies, which all carried national brands. At the turn of the century there were a total of four gas stations, but only one of them remained after a national chain moved into town, opened a truck stop, and started selling gas at ninety-nine cents a gallon as a grand opening promotion. The promotion went on for fifty-four days, which is exactly how long its corporate strategists calculated they needed to monopolize gas sales and do irrevocable damage to the outdated and inferior stations. It worked. What was left was a 24/7 monstrosity of a truck stop that churned out fuel, fried food, and sixty-four ounce soft drinks in equal measure. When it rained, all the excess water grabbed the oils on the ground, which sat atop the flowing water like diluted water colors, and washed them away into the truck stop’s large grated gutter that it placed on the property border to its neighboring business—a small diner that looked to blow over at the mere shudder of passing semi-trucks.

The diner’s interior matched its dated exterior. Inside, Silvio ran his hand over the decades old wallpaper appreciatively as he exited the bathroom and headed back to his booth where the old man was waiting for him. In front of Silvio was a full breakfast plate of bacon and eggs and pancakes, and in front of the old man was a cup of coffee. The old man stirred his drink absently while looking at the rain running down the large glass panes while Silvio ate. When he paused from eating long enough to notice the old man’s gaze, he too glanced out at the falling rain.

I applied to have a foreign exchange student live with me for a semester.

You did?