Good People Read Online Free PDF Page B

memory has been compromised, which is why I haven’t had a peach in so long. The thought of a peach hasn’t even occurred to me during all this time. Certainly I must’ve eaten some kind of fruit over the years. One couldn’t live this long a life and not had any fruit during the course of it. What’s troubling is that I can’t remember eating any fruit other than peaches and I only just remembered that the other night. It stands to reason I’ve seen peaches at a grocer’s or in someone’s kitchen, but I have no memory of actually seeing peaches, let alone eating them. It is possible I’ve subsisted solely on meat and bread my entire adult life. I don’t think this is unusual or unique is what I think I’m trying to say. Anyone who has been beaten as often as I have would have a faulty memory and trouble thinking things through and as a result be as tired as I am now. Surely others have subsisted on meat and bread alone. The world is a big place and has a lot of people in it. My mother used to say this all the time. I think she meant that I could be replaced, that I wasn’t essential. This is yet another reason I’m no different, not by any measure. It is no wonder I will hang myself later in the backyard. The question is why I haven’t done so sooner. I have no answer to this question. Clearly, it was a mistake or a series of mistakes, not hanging myself sooner. I have made a great many mistakes. To go through the mistakes now would bepointless. The more pressing concern is will I have the energy or strength to hang myself later.
    I did practice hanging myself yesterday, to make sure I could do it properly. I went out to the backyard and positioned the step stool under the strongest branch of the oak tree. Of course, I’d prefer hanging myself from a peach tree, but there are no peach trees in the backyard and to traverse the countryside looking for a peach tree would take too much out of me. And I don’t know if a peach tree is strong enough to support my weight. The last time I checked I weighed upward of two hundred pounds. You wouldn’t think someone that substantial could be so fleet afoot, but you’d be wrong in my case. Out of all the things wrong with me this isn’t one of them. People are always impressed by my speed and agility. They say I move well for a big man, usually right before they start beating me. So, I gathered my two hundred pounds, stood on the step stool, swung the noose around the branch, and slipped it over my head. Obviously, I did not kick the step stool away, but I’m certain I can do this later without expending too much effort. Even still, I was exhausted after this dry run. I had to go straight to bed afterward and wound up sleeping for eighteen hours straight. Theoretically, I should be well rested for later, but that isn’t always the case. I can sleep for three days and wake up spent. This was another thing wrong with me growingup. I would wake up after sleeping for a full day and go downstairs and ask my mother, What’s for breakfast? And she would say, What the fuck is wrong with you? She would say that I missed breakfast and lunch and it was almost time for dinner. I would always apologize to her, but she never accepted my apologies. She said my apologies were insincere. She was probably right. She’d say I was just like my father and I couldn’t argue because I didn’t know what he was like, having never met the man. At this point in a conversation with her I would grow weary and announce that I had to go to bed. I would tell her I might not wake up this time so it could be goodnight maybe forever. She’d say none of us was that lucky. It was true, none of us was that lucky, except maybe when it came to my father. We never knew exactly what happened to him. Mother said she got lucky when he joined the navy and got killed in action overseas. I’m not sure any of us believed her,