" Jesus!" Chuck learned to ride a bicycle before I did ... I just didn't have the balance. I grew too fast ... arms and legs everywhere ... ask my sister." I groaned, recalling last summer. "Daddy didn't have time so he told Chuck to teach me to ride. Chunky said no. No teach ... no dessert, daddy told him. Chuck lives for dessert."Our house is in the middle of the block ... it's a pretty decent slope from the top of the block to the bottom."At the bottom of the block is US27/M21. There's three steps at the bottom of the sidewalk ... then the highway ... a Shell Gas Station and then the alley. The Shell has two pumps ... the gas station has huge plate glass windows."It's Saturday and the highway is positively packed with cars going north."From here to the finish is in one breath."I pushed the bike to the top of the hill and Chuck held it while I got situated. We started down the hill ... Chuck was holding me upright. I got going ... he let go. I'm really moving and I don't know how to. “Good night, k**. Nice night. Thanks for that. Tired now though – ““Night Unc,” he whispered. It was almost a cry.“It’s been a long day, son. An emotional one. You can do worse on a day like this then to go to bed – get some sleep.”He nodded – unconvinced. Perhaps he realized in that moment that he did not, in fact, have as much to learn from me as he thought he did.Whatever – I split, the beer calling to me when I passed through the kitchen. I bounded up the stairs, found myself sitting on the bed, shaking. In a bad way. I picked up the phone, flicked it on – there were three messages from Burt and so many texts I couldn’t count. I dialed the number – not Burt’s, my sponsor’s.“Hey k**,” came the voice. He picked up on the first ring. “Been awhile. You alright?”“Probably not.”“Talk.”“There’s beer – downstairs. In the fridge. Talking to me.”“How the fuck did you get beer in your house, k**?”“Long story – I mean – I guess it’s been a while since we talked.”“It has. Tell me.”“Got this.
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