Song of the Silent Snow by Hubert Selby Jr. Page B

in response to the voices that were constantly dinning in his head. From time to time he would look at Wally and tell him he was sorry and Wally would tap him on the shoulder and tell him to forget it, its alright. No more Wally. I swear. No more. And they continued walking, leaving the avenue and walking along the path in the park area bordering the parkway, Harry, Ron, Kelly and Larry, once more feeling the effects of the nights drinking, joking and kidding around as they walked, Mike hearing their laughter and resenting it, not because he didnt want them to be happy, but because he wanted their laughter to somehow ease his pain, the pain that grew in gnawing knots within him, twisting his body and mind with tension, pain that was magnified by his guilt and overwhelming remorse, a pain that increased as he fought accepting the truth that he had broken his brothers hand, yet deep within him he knew he had. The truth continued to settle in and grow and be accepted and as it did Mikes agony increased because he didnt want it to be true. He didnt want to have done that to his brother. He had gotten into fights and didnt remember them, but he didnt give a shit about that. What the fuck did he care about those hardons? But how could he have done that to Wally? How? - hitting his head with his hands - How? How???? How could it happen? He didnt want to hurt his brother and the more he tried to figure what happened the more intense the pain and confusion became, and the more the pain grew the more he tried to figure out what happened and he kept getting deeper and deeper into a black nausea that twisted itself from his gut up to his throat threatening to make him puke, and up to the top of his head until it felt like it was about to be fuckin ripped open, and he was powerless to do anything about the pain or the cause of the pain, all he could do was be victimized by it and be a part of the process without having any control, flailing impotently at the process and pain and trying to wish it all away: everything that had happened, the entire evening, and he kept telling himself that if he could only remember what had happened he could somehow change it, make believe it never happened, but then he would look at Wallys hand and the truth would descend on him like a dull and rusty guillotine and all he could feel was the crushing pain of dying without the release of death, and so he continued walking along the path, watching his feet and the shadow of Wallys hand, hearing painfully the laughter of the others and then he became vaguely aware of another sound that worked its way through their laughter and the sounds of their walking, the sound of cars passing along the parkway, and the screeching in his head; it was the sound of chuckling and giggling and words that were barely audible but the sound was undeniably happy... yeah, thats what the voices said, they said they were happy. He couldnt figure the words out for shit but the voices said they were happy. He raised his head and noticed a young couple in the distance walking in their direction across the grass that sloped to the parkway. They passed through the cone of light from a streetlamp and he could see a guy and a girl, his arm around her waist, slowly walking, their voices happy, happy, and when they passed from the relative brightness near the lamp to the misty aura of the light they stopped and kissed and were quiet for a few moments ... and then their happy voices started up again and saying Krist knows what to each other. Mike watched them from the corner of his eye for a few minutes, then raised his head slightly, not wanting anyone to see what he was doing, and kept his eyes trained on them as they approached, ten feet or so off the path, and as he watched, seeing them more and more distinctly as they got nearer, his head got quieter and the grinding pain started to subside and a new excitement wormed its way through his tensed body, and as they drew abreast of them he