oak, a trim, tough little oak.
‘What always takes me so long; milking, washing up, get the truck going, drive down here. We didn’t get through the milking until late. Usually I don’t care, but tonight I was goin’ crazy tryin’ to get out. He was just squeezin’ slow, I guess. What a fuckin’ hopeless mess.’
‘Did you tell him?’
‘No, I didn’t tell him. He’ll go through the wall. Want to make sure the rifles are all locked up before I tell him. I thought he got a little mad when Loyal took off, but it’ll really rattle his marbles when I drop the word we’re getting hitched and moving out.’
‘It isn’t going to get any easier the longer you put it off.’
‘There’s a lot more to it than just telling him. I can’t clear out untilI know he’s got a way to get out from under that farm. Sell it, is what I think he ought to do. Then I got to come up with some money. Some real money. It’s o.k. for us to talk about moving off, about me taking the piano tuning course and all, but money is what makes it happen and I don’t got any.’
‘It always comes down to money. That’s what we always end up talking about. It never fails.’
‘It’s the big problem. He don’t say much, but I know damn well the mortgage and the taxes is way behind. He ought to sell but he’s so damn stubborn he won’t. I try to mention it he says “I-was-born-on-this-farm,-I’ll-die-on-this-farm,-farmin’s-the-only-thing-I-know.” Hell, if I can learn piano tuning he could learn something different. Run a drill press or something. Want a beer? Fizzy drink? A martini?’ His voice puffed, rich, comic.
‘Oh, I might as well have have a gin and ginger ale.’ She pushed the chignon up and drove another hairpin into the slippery mass.
‘The one I feel sorry for is Mernelle. She runs up there to her room cryin’ because she don’t have any decent clothes. She’s grown out of everything. She had to wear one of Ma’s dresses to school the other day. Come home bawlin’. I feel bad, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I know how she feels when the kids pick on you. Rotten little bastards.’
‘Poor kid. Listen, I got some dresses and a skirt and sweater she can have. A nice green cashmere sweater and a brown corduroy skirt.’
‘Honey, she’s six inches taller than you and about twenty pounds skinnier. That’s the problem. She’s shot up wicked the last few months. Bean pole. Wish she could put the brakes on.’
‘We’ll think of something. She can’t wear Jewell’s dresses to school, poor kid. By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘Better be good.’
‘I think so.’ The inverted red prints of her lips mapped the rim of the glass. ‘Doctor Willy got a postcard from the Railway Express today. It’s in.’
‘What’s in?’
‘You know. You know what I mean. What you were measured for.’ Her face washed red. She could not say it, not after two yearsas the doctor’s secretary and appointment manager. Not after seven months of sitting with Dub in the farm truck that leaked mosquitoes, engine fumes, road water, and leg-paralyzing cold, kissing and planning a hundred escapes and futures and every one without a farm in it.
‘Oh yeah, you must mean the fancy arm. The prosthesis. That what you mean?’
‘Yes.’ She pushed the stained glass away from her. She could not stand to hear him breathe that way.
‘Or is it a hook, big shiny, stainless steel hook? I forget. I only know my girlfriend Myrt says I gotta get one, but she can’t say what it is I gotta get.’
‘Marvin. Don’t do this to me,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Don’t do what? Say “hook”? Say “prosthesis”?’ His voice rolled out across the dance door. He saw Trimmer at the bar, saw Trimmer cross his eyes and draw his hand across his throat. All at once he felt better and began to laugh. He pulled the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and shook out a cigarette. ‘Don’t be embarrassed,
‘What always takes me so long; milking, washing up, get the truck going, drive down here. We didn’t get through the milking until late. Usually I don’t care, but tonight I was goin’ crazy tryin’ to get out. He was just squeezin’ slow, I guess. What a fuckin’ hopeless mess.’
‘Did you tell him?’
‘No, I didn’t tell him. He’ll go through the wall. Want to make sure the rifles are all locked up before I tell him. I thought he got a little mad when Loyal took off, but it’ll really rattle his marbles when I drop the word we’re getting hitched and moving out.’
‘It isn’t going to get any easier the longer you put it off.’
‘There’s a lot more to it than just telling him. I can’t clear out untilI know he’s got a way to get out from under that farm. Sell it, is what I think he ought to do. Then I got to come up with some money. Some real money. It’s o.k. for us to talk about moving off, about me taking the piano tuning course and all, but money is what makes it happen and I don’t got any.’
‘It always comes down to money. That’s what we always end up talking about. It never fails.’
‘It’s the big problem. He don’t say much, but I know damn well the mortgage and the taxes is way behind. He ought to sell but he’s so damn stubborn he won’t. I try to mention it he says “I-was-born-on-this-farm,-I’ll-die-on-this-farm,-farmin’s-the-only-thing-I-know.” Hell, if I can learn piano tuning he could learn something different. Run a drill press or something. Want a beer? Fizzy drink? A martini?’ His voice puffed, rich, comic.
‘Oh, I might as well have have a gin and ginger ale.’ She pushed the chignon up and drove another hairpin into the slippery mass.
‘The one I feel sorry for is Mernelle. She runs up there to her room cryin’ because she don’t have any decent clothes. She’s grown out of everything. She had to wear one of Ma’s dresses to school the other day. Come home bawlin’. I feel bad, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I know how she feels when the kids pick on you. Rotten little bastards.’
‘Poor kid. Listen, I got some dresses and a skirt and sweater she can have. A nice green cashmere sweater and a brown corduroy skirt.’
‘Honey, she’s six inches taller than you and about twenty pounds skinnier. That’s the problem. She’s shot up wicked the last few months. Bean pole. Wish she could put the brakes on.’
‘We’ll think of something. She can’t wear Jewell’s dresses to school, poor kid. By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you.’
‘Better be good.’
‘I think so.’ The inverted red prints of her lips mapped the rim of the glass. ‘Doctor Willy got a postcard from the Railway Express today. It’s in.’
‘What’s in?’
‘You know. You know what I mean. What you were measured for.’ Her face washed red. She could not say it, not after two yearsas the doctor’s secretary and appointment manager. Not after seven months of sitting with Dub in the farm truck that leaked mosquitoes, engine fumes, road water, and leg-paralyzing cold, kissing and planning a hundred escapes and futures and every one without a farm in it.
‘Oh yeah, you must mean the fancy arm. The prosthesis. That what you mean?’
‘Yes.’ She pushed the stained glass away from her. She could not stand to hear him breathe that way.
‘Or is it a hook, big shiny, stainless steel hook? I forget. I only know my girlfriend Myrt says I gotta get one, but she can’t say what it is I gotta get.’
‘Marvin. Don’t do this to me,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Don’t do what? Say “hook”? Say “prosthesis”?’ His voice rolled out across the dance door. He saw Trimmer at the bar, saw Trimmer cross his eyes and draw his hand across his throat. All at once he felt better and began to laugh. He pulled the cigarette pack from his shirt pocket and shook out a cigarette. ‘Don’t be embarrassed,
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