“You gonna be,” he said. “Is it makin’ you sick? Real work sickenin’ you? That’s yo’ addiction layin’ its toll on yo’ mind, like a toll road on yo’ mind, chargin’ a toll… in yo’ mind. Yo’ mind is both the road and the destination. And the toll. You still gotta puke. Prolly got booze in yo’ belly still, and it’s brewing up a pot of lazy liver. It’s tellin’ you you don’t gotta improve yo’self, you just fine the way you is.” Steel clapped his hands, so high-energy now that spittle flecked his lips.
Avery quaked about it and shrank away from him, no longer even trying to lift the bar. Steel kept looking down at him and moved up the bench press to stay alongside him. “It’s wrong! You ain’t fine — life is a struggle to remain on the Christian road, you feel me? A struggle of brotherhood is another good, y’all! If you ain’t workin’ on improvement, you drifting off the foredained road.” He paused. “Foetained? Foretained. The foretained road.” He scrunched up his eyes. “The frodained road?”
