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He
did
n't
say
anything
after
that
for
so
long
I
thought
he
'd
gone
to
sleep
.
I
wished
I
'd
told
him
good
night
.
I
looked
over
at
him
,
and
he
was
turned
away
from
me
.
His
arm
was
n't
under
the
covers
,
and
I
could
just
make
out
the
aces
and
eights
tattooed
there
.
It
's
big
,
I
thought
,
big
as
my
arms
used
to
be
when
I
played
football
.
I
wanted
to
reach
over
and
touch
the
place
where
he
was
tattooed
,
to
see
if
he
was
still
alive
.
He
's
layin
'
awful
quiet
,
I
told
myself
,
I
ought
to
touch
him
to
see
if
he
's
still
alive
...
.
That
's
a
lie
.
I
know
he
's
still
alive
.
That
ai
n't
the
reason
I
want
to
touch
him
.
I
want
to
touch
him
because
he
's
a
man
.
That
's
a
lie
too
.
There
's
other
men
around
.
I
could
touch
them
.
I
want
to
touch
him
because
I
'm
one
of
these
queers
!
But
that
's
a
lie
too
.
That
's
one
fear
hiding
behind
another
.
If
I
was
one
of
these
queers
I
'd
want
to
do
other
things
with
him
.
I
just
want
to
touch
him
because
he
's
who
he
is
.
But
as
I
was
about
to
reach
over
to
that
arm
he
said
,
"
Say
,
Chief
,
"
and
rolled
in
bed
with
a
lurch
of
covers
,
facing
me
,
"
Say
,
Chief
,
why
do
n't
you
come
on
this
fishin
'
trip
with
us
tomorrow
?
"
I
did
n't
answer
.
"
Come
on
,
what
do
ya
say
?
I
look
for
it
to
be
one
hell
of
an
occasion
.
You
know
these
two
aunts
of
mine
comin
'
to
pick
us
up
?
Why
,
those
ai
n't
aunts
,
man
,
no
;
both
those
girls
are
workin
'
shimmy
dancers
and
hustlers
I
know
from
Portland
.
What
do
you
say
to
that
?
"
