Posted: Oct 16, 07 4:10pm

This piece is near to my heart but I need to know how it reads to someone else.

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There's a guy with a box fan strapped on his back. I'm happy in here; in this air-conditioned car. And out there is the 5:00 traffic and a grueling mid-summer sun and the hot pavement and this guy on a bike wearing khaki shorts and a used-to-be-white tee shirt with a box fan strapped on his back. And he's smiling. I'm thinking how lucky I am not to be him; him with no hat and no sun glasses and riding a bike in this heat and a box fan strapped on his back. And he is smiling.

He's got that fan strapped on somehow with something yellow crisscrossing the fan and something black or blue or brown -- or all three -- over his shoulders and across his chest. Did he gather his harness from around the house? From the rolling suitcase mama borrowed from Miss Jeffers to go to her brother's funeral in Atlanta last year. And she kept forgetting to give it back and then Miss Jeffers moved and then she died so now the suitcase is mama's and he is using the strap.

Maybe the yellow is from his sister's backpack; the one she doesn't want to use again when school starts next week 'cause it's too baby. So when he says he's looking for things to use for straps, she says use this thing. I'll have to kind of take it apart, he says. That's good she says.

And maybe the black or the blue or the brown or all three are neckties he finds on the floor of mama's closet. Ties his father left when he left. He thinks maybe he shouldn't use them. Maybe they should be special to him -- something to keep, to care about. But he doesn't care about them or him. So he uses the neckties and the suitcase strap and the backpack and comes up with this way to strap a box fan on his back.

I can see it isn't a new fan, but is it new to him? Did he have the fan at his house and is taking it somewhere else, or did he go to a second-hand store and buy the fan and now he is taking it home.

Is he smiling because he has this fan now and tonight he and his girlfriend will lie on his bed with the cool breeze bathing their naked bodies? He is proud to bring her this comfort. He has thought all day about the moment and it makes him smile. Last Friday she complained about too hot to really do it right. Too sweaty and sticky. They always have to wait til late -- til his sister is asleep and his mom is gone to her night shift job. Not too hot tonight. Not too hot in front of the fan he bought today and brought home strapped on his back. This is so good, she whispers. The fan is my gift to you; to make our time better. He put the fan on the dresser so all the breeze hits them. None of it wasted under the bed. You are my man, she whispers into his mouth.

Or the fan is from his bedroom. Sweetheart, take your fan over for Nana to use, his mama calls from the kitchen. It's too hot for her -- too many days of this heat. Her little house is like an oven. So with a box fan strapped on is back he is biking the five blocks to his Nana's. He's smiling to think how she will be happy to see him and to see the fan. Nana, I have something for you. He shouts it from the front yard as he leans his bike against the corner post of the porch. The windows are open, the door is open. Even with the screens there will be flies in the house. Nana, I brought a fan, he calls again as he goes inside. She will be making her way from the kitchen. Probably was standing in front of the open refrigerator. What fan? One that we had at our house. Where's a fan? Here. He turns so she can see it and slips the harness off his shoulders. Now he feels the weight of it; now he feels the heat of biking here with a box fan strapped on his back. She gets a glass of sweet iced tea for each of them and they sit in front of the fan together and cool themselves. He will ask her to tell him about when she was a girl and they will sit together til the sun goes down and he can bike home again without the traffic and the sun and without the box fan strapped on his back.

Before he leaves, he moves the fan to Nana's bedroom. She says put it on that chair but he knows it will be better on the dresser and puts it there. When he is ready to leave they hug. My boy is becoming a man, she whispers.

While I'm in my car watching him, he reaches the corner and stops for the same red light that is holding me. He stands with one foot on the ground, the other on the pedal. He is smiling. When the light changes, we both go forward but I move ahead and he is gone. And I will say I saw a guy -- a man -- on a bike with a box fan strapped on his back.

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