“Yeah. Your Humvee,” and I go into my windy spiel about the annual event at Wintercrest Canyon with Birk and the others in my circle of friends, and explain my excitement about the planned get-together at the cabin.
“You know there’s a blizzard going on? Wendy Larson on Channel Four says fourteen inches of snow will fall by morning.”
“That’s why I need the Humvee. I can get through the blizzard and land at the cabin.”
Pause. Quiet. Nothingness. I picture him rubbing his chin, because I’m rubbing my chin. Twins tend to do things like this. It’s a special code or feature we have. We’re a family within in a family. Again, that’s another story for another time, though. Right now, he asks, “When will you be back?”
“Shortly after noon on Sunday. Or thereabouts.”
“Weather permitting. Right?”
