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Advancement of Christian Thought. Crackers that get upset to the bone if they see a black man shake hands with a white woman. Think homosexuals are some kind of abomination against God, that they’re trying to wrestle straight white men to the floors of public restrooms to suck their dicks. They’re not that crazy about Jews either, since they think they killed Jesus. Can’t get it in their heads Jesus was a Jew too. And illegal immigrants, that makes them gnash their teeth. Liberals and Democrats and moderates don’t float their boats either.
    â€œThe big mullah for all that stuff, the local agitator, the white racist bastard stirring his side of the pot, is a Baptist preacher right here in Camp Rapture. Reverend Dinkins. He’s head of that organization. Spouts racist mess on TV like he’s talking about something truly Christian. They prey on poor screwed-up white kids who are nothing more than angry rednecks without a pot to piss in. All they need is some preacher like Dinkins to tell them they’re on God’s side, or someone like Judence to come down hard on whitey, and BLAM! It all gets set off.”
    Dad paused and turned the soft-drink can around and around in his hand; he was really giving that aluminum a workout. He said: “Judence will come here and give a speech and have a rally at the university so he can go home with a few copies of his appearance on DVD. He can lie around at night and watch it and jack off, claim he kept the whitey school out of the black section of town. Dinkins and the League can brag they kept things status quo. The blacks who didn’t want change can feel like they’ve saved the world from white domination, and the blacks that did want change will throw up their hands in frustration and give up. Everyone loses but the rats and the cockroaches and humankind continues its slow march to oblivion, but with a wide variety of ice-cream flavors and television shows to choose from…What would really straighten the human race out is a good plague.”
    â€œI suppose that would clean things up,” I said.
    â€œBy the way, did you drive by where Gabby works? I was wondering because she called me and said she saw a car that looked like your old wreck go by there a couple of times real slow, and the guy driving it, she thought he looked a lot like you.”
    â€œThe road runs by there, Dad.”
    â€œBut the speed limit there is forty-five, not a crawl. Not trying to pin you or make you feel bad. You’ve always been somewhat obsessive. Do you remember when you counted your steps?”
    â€œI counted ceiling tiles too. I counted and arranged my comic books incessantly. I did a lot of things.”
    â€œYou moved those obsessions to Gabby. Add the war, what you saw there, how it affected you—”
    â€œI’ m all right,” I said.
    â€œWhat’s the doctor say?”
    â€œI said I was all right.”
    Dad nodded. “Good. Have you seen your brother?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Jimmy was a university professor. His wife taught grade school. They were pretty close to being the perfect couple.
    Dad crushed the Diet Coke can, said, “I’m going to bed.” He stood up and paused on the steps and put his hand on my shoulder. “Good to have you home.”
    â€œGood night, Dad.”
    I sat on the back steps for a while and finished my Diet Coke. The night air was nice and cool and soft as velvet. I heard a frog bleat. The smell of mowed grass was like a perfume.
    I leaned back and looked up at the stars. They were shiny and bright, and there was something right about the heavens that made me want to live forever. I had had that feeling before. It never lasted.

6
    Each morning I awoke with the fresh point of view that things were going to change and that Gabby and I would get back together. I could sit down and think this over and realize just how stupid it was, but the thought wouldn’t go away,