The Throwback Special Read Online Free Page A

seats. He shivered and said, “Almost Indian summer weather here in mid-November,” imitating Frank Gifford’s commentary in the seconds before the ball was snapped on Theismann’s final play. George’s imitation was not bad. Not as good as Gil’s, but not bad.
    â€œAnyway,” George said, continuing a conversation he had apparently initiated outside the car, “the Internetshould belong to everyone. We’ve been too slow in bringing it to rural areas and the inner city. The very notion—”
    â€œWhy?” Andy said.
    George wiped rainwater from his face. He lifted his eyebrows, perplexed, though not offended, by Andy’s undemocratic spirit.
    â€œWhy?” Andy said. “It’s just online shopping. It’s just pornography. It’s videos of two unlikely animals becoming friends. Why do the destitute require this? Who cares?”
    Andy had meant to shut George up, but he realized his mistake immediately. There was nothing George relished more than the free exchange of ideas. What Andy had intended as a vicious, conversation-slaying remark was instead, he now understood by the look on George’s face in the mirror, a generous and provocative strand in the complex braid of their constitutionally protected discourse. Andy could feel George’s excitement emanating wetly from the backseat.
    â€œI just read a fascinating study,” George said, with the methodical force of a snowplow.
    â€œGeorge,” Andy said.
    â€œThis lead researcher from the University of Illinois devised an ingenious study. What he did was—”
    â€œGeorge, are you married?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œAre you married?”
    â€œYes, by common law.”
    â€œWell, okay,” Andy said. “I was married, see, and now I’m getting a divorce.”
    George made an extended sympathetic noise in the backseat. In the mirror Andy could see George wincing. “Andy, I’m really sorry to hear that.”
    â€œYeah, well.”
    â€œHey, man,” George said, leaning forward and reaching his hands around the driver’s seat. His left wrist got tangled momentarily in the seat belt, but eventually he was able to grip the tops of Andy’s arms, and squeeze. Even if Andy had wanted to free himself from George’s grip, he wasn’t sure he could have. He could feel George’s knees in the small of his back. He risked a glance, but George had the crown of his head resting on the back of Andy’s seat, and he was no longer visible in the mirror. “Come here, man,” George said.
    â€œI’m here,” Andy whispered.
    â€œTell me what happened.”
    This was a good configuration for Andy. This could work. As long as the windows remained fogged, as long as the rain made that sound on the thin roof of the car, as long as George’s face was invisible in the mirror, as long as George gripped the tops of his arms and did not try to rub his shoulders, Andy felt that he could talk.
    â€œOne night last February—it was February twenty-third—we had dinner with some friends. There were two other couples there. We were having drinks before dinner. There was one of those uncomfortable lulls in the conversation, so I began to speak, just to end the silence. Another woman began speaking, too, at the same time, but then she laughed and said for me to please go ahead. Iwent ahead, George. I think about that now. I kept talking. I said that I had heard an interesting story on NPR. It was about these dinosaurs called oviraptors. The name means ‘egg thief’ or something.”
    â€œYes,” George said slowly. “Egg seizer.”
    â€œThe scientist who discovered and named the oviraptor had found its bones on top of a nest of eggs. He surmised that the dinosaur was snatching these eggs, raiding the nest for food. But now scientists are taking another look at these creatures, and they think maybe this male