Tampico (James A. Michener Fiction Series)
“It was three a.m. and moonlight falling on my cheek had awakened me, and I’d risen and gone to sit in my pajamas at the kitchen table near the stove and drink tea. The moon was in the porcelain on the table, and I could see it in the sky beyond the crest, its light in beach grass at the edge, and in a while I felt the weight of sleep upon me again and I’d gone back to my bedroom and crossed to pull the curtains closed, and then I’d seen them.
John was between them, Larry and Frank, and Gino was... behind, pushing the empty chair and leaning into it, spokes caught in bearberry, wheels wobbling in the meadow’s ruts. John can walk sometimes and sometimes he can’t. It’s the chemotherapy and the way he says he feels it in his joints. But he was walking now, though a little haltingly and watching his feet, and I saw Gino raise his arm and call out and the others stop and wait for him to catch up. Then they were through the meadow and climbing up the verge to the road, and I looked beyond them to that tapered cylinder, distinct in its white painted blocks of stone against the moonlit sky.MoreLess
John was between them, Larry and Frank, and Gino was... behind, pushing the empty chair and leaning into it, spokes caught in bearberry, wheels wobbling in the meadow’s ruts. John can walk sometimes and sometimes he can’t. It’s the chemotherapy and the way he says he feels it in his joints. But he was walking now, though a little haltingly and watching his feet, and I saw Gino raise his arm and call out and the others stop and wait for him to catch up. Then they were through the meadow and climbing up the verge to the road, and I looked beyond them to that tapered cylinder, distinct in its white painted blocks of stone against the moonlit sky.MoreLess
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