excerpt
When it was over, Poodie reached for his notebook and wrote.
“Come see me.”
“I can’t Poodie.”
He took the notebook back and scribbled, “I want to see you.”
“No, Poodie,” Marcie said. “You’re my friend.”
She saw tension in his jaw. His hand closed around her wrist.
“That hurts,” she said.
He tightened his grip, then let go and tried with his eyes to hold
her there. She began to walk. Back at the edge of the bandstand he
remembered dances at the school and made a bow. Marcie curtsied,
and went off with her football player.
Poodie stayed near the drums until the band stopped playing
and the dancers went home. He helped the drummer carry his
cases outside and stood waving as the bus rolled out of the parking
lot, then started gathering bottles. Pulling his wagon home
through the darkness, he felt his heart pounding. It was like the
rhythm of a drum.
Manolis Aligizakis 