42097609460

But he didn’t fall. He lifted a can, then staggered toward the stairs
at the back of the house. He reached out for the railing and missed
it, then tried again. Got it. He lugged the can of gas up the stairs,
toward the door, a Sherpa in the Himalayas. He finally reached
the landing at the top, panting, and bent over to remove the cap.
His head filled with blood, making him swoon, but he used the
gas can to keep from falling. It took awhile before he could get the
cap off because it kept slipping between his fingers.
Once open, he picked up the can and doused the landing,
splashing its contents against the door. With every heave, the can
got lighter, gas spilling out in arcs, drenching the wall. Getting
easier now. He splashed left and right, trying to coat either side of
the building. He started back down the stairs, splashing left and
right. The fumes made him sick but he kept going.
There wasn’t much gas left in the can when he reached the bottom
and he rested at ground level. He was breathing hard and the
fumes were making him feel sick again but he began moving
again, with purpose now. Determination. He tossed the empty can
aside and reached for the other. He couldn’t douse the upper
reaches of the walls, but he did what he could. He splashed one
side and then circled around the back to the other side. Above
him, the window still flickered with light from the television but
all was quiet.
He drained the can on the other side of the building and had
nothing left for the front. He scanned the road; no cars were
coming from either direction. Upstairs, Erin and the gray-haired
man were naked and laughing at him and Erin ran away and he
almost found her in Philadelphia but back then she was calling
herself Erica, not Erin, and now she pretended her name was
Katie.
He stood in front of the store, thinking about the windows. Maybe
they were alarmed and maybe not. He didn’t care. He needed