To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,2

and that pleased me. I had no doubts that it pleased Ray, too. He’d do almost anything for that boy, as would I. Funny how quickly one can bond to a child.

I checked my watch. “Hey guys, it’s time to meet Erica.”

As usual, they didn’t race to respond.

Ray and Danny checked out a few more cars while I tapped my toe to the beat of the four-piece rock band playing from a nearby bar’s porch roof. I didn’t mind keeping Erica waiting. She’d kept me waiting many a time; in fact, she was prone to disappearing altogether, both literally or just inside herself. But Maury was always on time or early. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Come on, guys.”

Reluctantly, they fell in step with me, and we headed over to the food tents, where hamburgers, sausages, fried dough, ice cream, and a whole slew of culinary treats waited. One vendor even had a “Weenie Wagon,” which sent Danny into a fit of laughter.

I spotted Maury sitting at a table near the street. “Hey, Maury. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem.” Maury stood to shake Ray’s hand and slap Danny on the back.

“So where’s Erica? Is she in line for food?”

“No, she didn’t want to come.” Maury sat again and toyed with a discarded straw wrapper, his baby-cheeked face the epitome of despair.

Ray gave me a look that said “you deal with this.” “What do you guys want to eat? Danny and I will get in line.”

Maury didn’t respond, so I told Ray to get everyone a cheeseburger, fries, and Coke. I seated myself across from Maury and wondered what my sister saw in him. True, at a well-built five-eleven and one hundred-seventy pounds with a shiny head of dark hair, he had a certain physical appeal but his wimpy personality detracted from that significantly. All he needed was the horn-rimmed glasses he’d worn in high school to complete his geek image.

“Is something wrong with Erica?”

“She said she didn’t feel like it.”

Immediately I was on alert. Erica was bipolar and had been in and out of the psych center for years, most often because of attempted suicides. “Is she taking her medicine?”

“Yeah. I see her. She’s taking it.” He squished the straw wrapper into a ball and pitched it into the grass.

“Is it a cold? The stomach flu?” I’d heard both were going around now that school had reopened last week, two days after Labor Day.

“No. She doesn’t want to be with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He heaved a sigh. “I think we’re in a rut.”

I managed to choke back my laugh. The two of them hadn’t been married a year and had rushed into marriage after only knowing each other a few weeks. How could they be in a rut? I wasn’t sure they even knew each other’s favorite color yet.

“Either that, or she’s having an affair.” He looked at me as if I might be able to confirm or deny it.

I tried to freeze my expression neutral so as not to give my thoughts away—my face can be entirely too readable. I hadn’t talked to my younger sister in a week. A lot can change with Erica in the space of an hour. She had a long history of relationships, broken ones. This marriage could easily be the next casualty. She’d married Maury during a time when I’d been too busy wallowing in my own problems to pay attention to her. I had no idea if she was having an affair now. It wouldn’t surprise me, but I wasn’t going to say so … at least, not until I talked to Erica.

Maury didn’t seem inclined to say more either. I sat with him in silence until Ray and Danny appeared with the food. Even in his defeated state, Maury managed to inhale his cheeseburger and fries faster than anyone else. Danny finished a close second.

“What time is the race?” Danny’s gaze swept the street behind me, raring to move onto the next activity.

I licked the last of the French fry salt from my fingertips. “I think the cars will go up to the track for the start of the race a little after six and come down shortly thereafter.”

The festival was known for its “race,” which was really a parade lap or two around the 1948–1952 race car course. In those years, the racing took place on the streets and hills of Watkins Glen with hay bales lining the roads to protect the spectators. The town gave that up soon after