Let's Get Lost. Adi Alsaid

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ don’t argue with your tour guide,” Hudson said, leading them to the shoe counter. Unlike other bowling alleys that invested in cubbyholes, Riverside Lanes had a much different storage system for their shoes.

      “This is ridiculous,” Leila said, staring at the massive pile of shoes, more than a few of which had fallen off the counter. A group of junior high girls came by, chatting excitedly about weekend plans, each of them tossing a pair of shoes haphazardly onto the pile. It shifted, and Hudson saw Leila brace for the pile of footwear to come tumbling at them.

      “No, this is awesome,” Hudson corrected. “Whenever the pile falls, an employee yells out, ‘Avalanche!’ and then everyone in the house gets a free game.”

      “Wouldn’t people just knock it over, then?”

      Hudson shook his head, as if no one had ever considered that before. “Where’s the fun in that?” He crossed his arms over his chest, admiring the sight of all those separated pairs of shoes, the laces sticking out everywhere, like arms seeking salvation from a pile of rubble.

      Hudson glanced at Leila, trying to get a sense of whether she was enjoying herself. Then a couple in their twenties came up to the pile and began to rummage. “The tour will continue this way,” Hudson said, touching Leila briefly on the shoulder as he led her through the bowling alley. He walked backward, like an actual tour guide. “On your left you will spot the snack bar, which still advertises freshly made pretzels despite being sold out for the last twelve years. On your right in lane six you can see the local bowling legend known as The Beaver, who’s bowled three perfect games and has never smiled at anyone but fallen pins. Please, no flash photography,” Hudson cracked, pointing out a hefty man in his sixties whose gut drooped over his belt.

      “Our next stop is the men’s bathroom,” Hudson said, thinking of the chalkboard over the urinals. It was always adorned with a mix of inane vulgarities, doodles, and the occasional heartfelt message, scrawled in sloppy handwriting that indicated its author was either drunk or his focus was split with another task at hand. “You can really see some lovely things there.”

      There was a pause before Hudson realized what he’d just said. He turned to Leila, who raised an eyebrow at him. “That didn’t come out right. I meant that some people really show parts of themselves that usually stay hidden.” He tensed a fist closed, stopping himself. “Nope, that didn’t clear anything up. What I meant was—” Hudson said, but he was interrupted by Leila bursting into laughter.

      Hudson smiled nervously. “There’s a chalkboard in there,” he started to explain, but he was too enraptured by the sound of her laughter to keep going. It emptied his thoughts, that laugh.

      “Don’t worry. I assume it wasn’t what it sounded like,” she said, catching her breath.

      Hudson shook his head at himself and turned to the bathroom and pushed the door open. “Tour group coming through!” he announced.

      When no one responded, he held the door open for Leila and made a sweeping motion of welcome. “After you, ma’am.”

      “This is the strangest tour I’ve ever been on,” Leila said, entering the bathroom and giving him an inquisitive look with just a hint of a smile to it.

      “Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times,” he said as she passed by.

      Two urinals, a stall, and a sink was all there was to the bathroom. An automated hand-drier that barely whirred hung from one wall. Leila looked up at the chalkboard over the urinals. Hudson followed her gaze, trying to guess which bit of scrawled handwriting she was reading.

      Someone had doodled an impressive dragon. Joan slept with The Beaver! was scrawled in block letters across the top of the board. And below that, in tiny script, as if the author had meant it as a whisper, You have been relentlessly on my mind. Lyrics to a Johnny Cash song, a Bible verse, and a drawing of a penis were scattered across the wall. Hudson couldn’t help but smile at the collection of escaped thoughts captured in chalk. He looked back at Leila and saw that she was smiling, too, her hands behind her as if she were appraising a piece of art.

      “You see the treasures?” he asked.

      She nodded, her lips spreading into a smile, her gaze passing over the smudges of white and blue chalk. “That’s my favorite Vonnegut quote,” she said, pointing at the line I urge you to please notice when you are happy.

      Hudson felt himself blush, wondering whether to confess that he’d been the one to write it on the chalkboard a week ago. “This is fantastic,” she said. Then she reached for one of the inch-long pieces of chalk sitting on the metallic ledge of the board. Taking only a brief moment to gather her thoughts, Leila stood on tiptoe to reach a blank spot, her neat handwriting standing out against the rest of the words on the board. People of Vicksburg, you live in a special place.

      Silly, how rewarding just that one comment from her was, how it made Hudson want to keep on babbling, to take her to every single place that he’d enjoyed for even a millisecond.

      Hudson led them back to the car, eager to show her anything else at all. They went to the church that had burned down and been rebuilt by the town, the Capture the Flag field at the park by his house, the closed-up candy shop where a dead body had once been found, making the lone remaining bag of root-beer–flavored candy Hudson had in his house feel very much like a treasure.

      “You know what? Why don’t I take you to go see it?”

      “Your house?”

      “Yeah,” he said, surprised by his own boldness but thankful for it. “You know, for the root-beer candy.”

      Leila considered him. He held up an understanding hand. “I’m acting purely as a treasure guide here. It might not be the most interesting place to everyone, but it’s a place that I know well enough to know where all the hidden details are. Don’t you want to see the room that Hudson the famed mechanic has been sleeping in for seventeen years?”

      She tilted her head back and squinted as if she were examining him. He worried he’d messed things up until he realized she was mock-scrutinizing him, saw the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Do you have one of those race-car–shaped beds?” she asked.

      “I do not,” he said, pretending to be offended as he switched his foot to the gas pedal. “I got too big for it last year.”

      Leila burst out laughing again. For fear that he would giggle with pride as soon as he opened his mouth, Hudson kept quiet on the short drive to his house.

      * * *

      Hudson parked Leila’s car in front of his house and handed her the keys as they walked up his lawn onto the narrow porch. His dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway yet—probably out shopping for groceries for dinner.

      “This is the porch,” he said, gesturing redundantly with one arm as he jiggled the keys out of his pocket. “We don’t use it much.”

      “How come?” Leila asked.

      “Our next-door neighbor is quite the talker,” Hudson said, looking around the block at the cars and pickup trucks parked in open garages, the American flags drooping like undrawn curtains in the still air, the bicycles lying on the driveways in after-school abandon. “My dad and I actually missed a movie once because she insisted on filling us in on neighborhood gossip. Someone’s cousin СКАЧАТЬ