#2: What Everyone Knows/What I Know
What everyone knows about him is that God gave him big ears, but perfect teeth. He gets a check in the mail every month just for being Indian. When he drinks too much, he thinks he’s invincible. How once it landed him in the hospital and they took his spleen. How another time it landed him hard on the ground, breaking the collarbone above his pitching arm, and they took his contract with the Cleveland Indians. On the weekends, he gets up early and takes his boat out to the lake to fish. The pick-up truck he bought and fixed up in high school, the one he lifted and painted cherry red, is his pride and joy. His family comes first, his friends a close second. He says very little when he’s sober, is the loudest of the bunch when he’s drunk. He’s cheated on every girlfriend he’s ever had. The nights he was slated to pitch always drew the biggest crowd.
What I know is that he doesn’t say much because he’s too busy watching. How all the things he used to see were whispered in my ear. That the smiles and looks he gives across the room are telling me what you’re talking about and how bored he is listening to you. That when I forget and slam the passenger door of his truck, he isn’t going to yell, but instead just sit there and stare at me until I notice we aren’t going anywhere and realize what I did. How if I don’t look at him and open the door back up and close it softly, it will make him smile and shake his head. That I’m on the list of people he can’t stand to disappoint. How even though he would tease me sometimes, any guy who really hurt me would find his fist in their face. That he married the wrong girl.
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