excerpt
THE PRESIDENT AND Poodie sat in
rocking chairs on the porch of Mr.
Truman’s house in Independence. Mr.
Truman waved and called to people
passing by. “Afternoon, Herb,” ”Nice
hat, Mrs. Gordon,” “Watch that no-hands stuff, Billy. You could
fall off.”Mrs. Truman brought big glasses of lemonade, took a chair
and reached under it for her knitting. Poodie heard birds singing,
the laughter and cries of children playing in the big yard of the house
next door, dogs barking.He and the Trumans conversed in French.
Mrs. Truman told Poodie that his mother was about the prettiest
little girl she ever saw, as pretty as Margaret. Margaret would be
coming for dinner, she said. The President wanted to show Poodie
his new car in the shed behind the house. Poodie helped Mr. Truman
into the wagon and pulled him around to the back yard. Mayor
Torgerson was standing by the shed. He took a pistol out of his coat
pocket. Bullets whizzed by, hit the ground near their running feet,
ricocheted off trees. Now Poodie was running alone through an
orchard, running, running, running under the blossoms. A figure
darted among the trees and into his path.The mayor smiled, raised a
shotgun to his shoulder and fired. Heat infused Poodie’s face. Pete
Torgerson and the shotgun faded. The blossoms dissolved in white
radiance as the seven o’clock sunlight streamed through Poodie’s
window and across his pillow. He wondered whether he would have
died if the sun hadn’t warmed him awake.
Manolis Aligizakis 