August 13
The day is perfectly summer: blue sky and white clouds, ninety degrees with just a hint of humidity. There’s a light wind that forecasts an evening thunderstorm.
I still have a goose egg on my temple where Harold struck me with the end of his cane. I don’t suffer from a concussion, though. I’m healing, slowly but surely. I’ll be fine. Really, I will be.
Jobe pays Umby to care for Harold; a side job for the physical therapist and good money. Jobe and I spend the day together. We take a bus to one of the inclines and ride to the top of Mt. Washington. Jobe uses his cellphone and takes pictures of The Point, three rivers, Heinz Stadium, and the many skyscrapers and bridges that design the city.
He calls the view, which is three hundred and sixty feet above river level, “…amazing
