《Stories From the Holler》 Tin Foil and Bachelor Buttons Rhythmic thumping broke through the quiet of my house, getting closer and louder much faster than I would like. I put the mocha mousse lip gloss I was applying down and started toward my front door. By the time I got it open, my mom was getting out of her car, a process which would take longer than seemed possible and would have been made easier by leaving her dog at home rather than toting her along. Anna Louise refused to get out of the car leaving Mom to yank on her leash until the obstinate dog gave in and jumped out. She turned and smiled at me. Wide and innocent. She was anything but innocent and the smile usually meant grief for me. I didn¡¯t have time for her brand of grief. ¡°What the hell, Mom? I heard you coming from the railroad tracks,¡± I said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t loud,¡± she said, shrugging her shoulders. ¡°It was Guns N¡¯ Roses.¡± She made her way to my side. My mother didn¡¯t walk, not ever. Sometimes she sauntered, or moseyed, or even pranced, but today she swaggered and looked at me sideways. Inside I braced myself for whatever trouble or antics she was bringing my way. ¡°Stay out here with me so I can smoke,¡± she said, lighting a cigarette and not really caring that I was only half dressed and it was hot out. She looked around, shaking her long feather earrings from side to side. ¡°What are you doing?¡± I asked. She sat contemplating for a few moments. Deep thought always looked like bad shellfish on her. ¡°Do you know what bachelor buttons are?¡± ¡°Uh¡­yeah. The flowers that grew in Granny¡¯s yard, tall stems and weird, jagged petals?¡± I answered. She was always so damn cryptic, and I didn¡¯t have time to unlock this code. ¡°Well, they are all over my yard. Yellow ones. But not just any yellow, bright yellow. Yellow bachelor buttons.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t realize they came in yellow. I thought they were blue and purple, or pink.¡± I sighed as I squinted into the sunlight. ¡°Me either. I think they put them there,¡± she said, blowing smoke in my direction even though she tried not to. I didn¡¯t want to ask the next question. I just wanted her to tell me what she wanted, then go home, get out of my space and out of my life for one day. Just one day, that¡¯s all I wanted. But I knew I had to ask. If I didn¡¯t, she would sit in my lawn chair, on my porch, until I did. Her dog would bark and crap in my yard (as she was currently doing on my neighbor¡¯s lawn) and my mother would look at me with an eyebrow raised and her chin reaching high into the air like she knew a secret I would never find out. I closed my eyes. ¡°Who? Who put them there?¡± Opening my eyes, I saw her pointing up at the sky with the two fingers which held her cigarette and a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. ¡°I think they see me at night when I go outside. I watch them and they watch me back. Then, in the morning, there are more bachelor buttons.¡± It took me a moment to decide whether she was serious or just being crazy. Sometimes she liked to tell me absurd stories about how wonderful my childhood was or how great our relationship is, but no matter how often she said it, or how much her brown eyes said she wanted it to be true, I knew better. So, I thought the aliens may be her attempt at refining her talent for lying. ¡°Yellow ones,¡± she said. She was serious. Nervous, but serious.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Do you think they can see me? I do. Every night when I take Precious out, there they are¡ª¡° She continued talking, but I didn¡¯t really hear it. I was busy wondering how many Xanax I had left and if I could mix it with a Valium and shot of tequila and still get through the rest of the day. Then I thought it was probably the only way I could. ¡°Are you listening to me, Gracie?¡± she asked, pulling me back into her reality. ¡°Go put some clothes on. You look like a fat whore, for Christ¡¯s sake; you¡¯ve got boobs everywhere.¡± She whispered the words whore and boobs. Obviously words too offensive to be said loud enough for God or anyone else to hear, which made me laugh. ¡°I have a lunch date.¡± Looking at my watch, I knew he had most likely left the restaurant assuming I wasn¡¯t going to show. ¡°Well, I had a lunch date.¡± She looked me over from head to toe and back up again. ¡°A date, huh? It¡¯s about time. You haven¡¯t had a date in forever. That explains the trashy look you have going.¡± ¡°Right, Mom,¡± I said, walking back inside. I heard her call behind me. ¡°I¡¯ll call you next time I see them. You can come over and tell me what you think.¡± I closed the door and waited until I heard the thump and scratch of bass in bad car speakers before going to the medicine cabinet. *** That night I was yanked from sleep by Lady Gaga singing ¡°Telephone¡±. I groaned as I reached to answer my cell phone and shut Gaga up. ¡°Hello?¡± I said. ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± the voice on the other line whispered. ¡°Mom? Who¡¯s there?¡± I opened my eyes wide until the numbers on the clock formed a recognizable shape. 2:14 am. ¡°Just get over here,¡± she said before the phone clicked and the call ended. ¡°Fuck!¡± I ran my hand through my hair. At least she lives close, I thought as I pulled on a pair of shorts and slipped my feet into flip flops. There was no traffic, probably because no one else in town had a crazy mother who summoned them in the middle of the night, so I made it to her house in a matter of minutes. Nearing her driveway, I saw her yard was indeed covered with bachelor buttons. Even in the dark I could see they were yellow. Very yellow. I parked my car behind my mom¡¯s car and saw she was sitting on her porch swing pushing herself back and forth looking into the sky. Trying not to make any noise, I walked toward her. ¡°Shh,¡± she said. She held an unlit cigarette in her right hand just in front of her lips. ¡°Do you remember that movie where the aliens invade and the dad and uncle have to save the kids?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I answered. ¡°I made one of those hats.¡± I stood behind her and followed her gaze into the stars. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°The hats that kept the aliens from reading their minds, you know. I made one,¡± she said lowering the still unlit Marlboro to point at something on the seat next to her. As I walked around to sit beside her, I saw she was pointing at a large lump of tin foil shaped like a giant Hershey¡¯s Kiss. ¡°But I decided not to wear it because I don¡¯t care if they read my mind. I think they like me, Gracie.¡± Then my mother smiled at me. Not the kind of smile that usually means she wants something or is up to something, but genuine. The kind of smile happy people have. Picking up the hat, I sat down next to her. ¡°That¡¯s really cool, Mom. I¡¯m sure they do.¡± ¡°Do you see them?¡± I wanted to see what she saw, something fantastic which looked down on her and thought she was beautiful, but all I saw was stars and the occasional blinking satellite. ¡°Yep,¡± I said. A while later, she stood and brushed her hands across the seat of her pants, yawning. ¡°I told you they were here,¡± she said, and went inside her small, run-down house. I stayed where I was on the porch swing with the crazy foil hat in my lap, looking at the flowers that were taking over my mother¡¯s yard. To me they were wildflowers growing out of control, but to my mother they were a gift from extraterrestrial beings that traveled across space to watch her watch them. I went to my car and fumbled around in the floorboard searching for a pair of shoes left there. Finally finding them, I pulled the shoelace from the holes and threw the shoe back into the messy backseat. I didn¡¯t want to disturb my mother¡¯s bachelor buttons, so I picked a bundle of them from where they grew in the ditch across the street then tied the shoelace around them. After scribbling ¡°I love you¡± onto the back of a Walmart receipt found crumpled up in the bottom of my purse and tucked it behind the shoelace. Trying not to make enough noise to wake her or Anna Louise, I lay the flowers on her porch, got in my car, and drove home. End of Season Vendetta¡¯s are not always personal. Dylan¡¯s wasn¡¯t. This was about domination. Nothing more. Nothing less. He leaned forward, settling his right hand into the cool turf. His dad played on real grass, slopped around in the mud when it rained. A real man. Christmas Day eight years ago, six months after his dad died, there was a football under the tree. Nothing else. Before tearing it open he held it and imagined his mom rolling it in the newspaper that served as substitute for real wrapping paper. She was angry then. Her eyes had turned into green blazes that flashed and flickered with her moods. She would have wrapped it while watching David Letterman and smoking a joint. Or maybe after Lou left and she reeked of gin and sex. Dylan was angry too. It wasn¡¯t fair that his dad died and left him alone with her or that Lou came over and yelled at him to go to bed so he could be alone with Dylan¡¯s mom. None of it was fair. But he was just a boy who couldn¡¯t change anything. He was mad about that too. ¡°Thanks, Mom.¡± ¡°You''re welcome, sugar. Your daddy played, you know,¡± she said. One arm lay across her thin stomach, the other held a Marlboro languorously in the air. The smoke swirled around her. Looking at her through the haze he thought she looked like a movie star. Dylan smiled and tossed the ball into the air. It tumbled down and bounced off the tips of his fingers into the Christmas tree. Like a vacuum, his mother sucked all the air from the room. She slowly uncrossed her legs and leaned forward until her face was even with his. Smoke seeped from her parted lips as her eyes flashed and narrowed. ¡°Can''t you catch a ball, you fucking pussy?¡± Her voice was even, cool. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Then I better not see you drop it again. Your daddy wouldn''t have me raise no fucking pussy, you hear? He''d have my ass. You catch that ball. Every. Fucking. Time.¡± She emphasized those last words by poking him in the forehead on every syllable, then she flicked her cigarette in Dylan¡¯s direction, lifted herself off the couch, and hid in her room the rest of the day. As angry as he was, Dylan knew she was right. His daddy had had her ass for less. When she drank, his mother liked to tell stories about his father. They usually started out sweet and romantic, but, depending on the kind of liquor she was drinking, she would also talk about the fights and how they led to making up. ¡°Green 80. Green 80. Hut-hut.¡± The center snapped the ball, and Dylan ran. He ran as though his life depended on it, and, in his mind, it did. Somewhere in the cheering Friday night crowd was a recruiter for Oklahoma University. If Dylan ever wanted out of this shithole of a town, he had to impress him. A scholarship meant freedom. The 50 year old rivalry between Dylan¡¯s team and the Bulldogs caused everyone to play harder and it was a close game. The Bulldogs were up by a field goal with two minutes left on the clock, but the Rangers had the ball and Dylan found an opening. He saw the quarterback move the ball from the carriage to the loaded position and throw. As the ball soared through the air, Dylan could hear his Tight End, Billy Brown, take down one of the opponents, clearing him for a clean catch. The ball soared in the air and Dylan leapt to catch it, stretching his arm to its limit. When both feet were on the ground, he pulled the ball in tight, securing it next to his body, and ran for the goal line. The stands were always packed at home games, but never so much as at the Ranger/Bulldog game. The two towns were only ten minutes away from one another so the visiting team¡¯s stands were also full. Regardless, there were two voices he heard above all others as he crossed into the end zone: his mom and his girlfriend, Ashley. The game could not have ended better. The Rangers went for and scored the extra point and managed to defend the goal line, securing their victory. The buzzer signaled the end of the game and the bench emptied. The team, the cheerleaders, and the fans rushed the field. Ashley came bounding toward Dylan with her arms spread wide, tears on her cheeks. She threw down her pom poms before jumping into Dylan¡¯s arms. ¡°You did it, baby,¡± she said, beaming. His helmet was already off and somewhere on the field, so he kissed her hard on the mouth. ¡°Enough of that shit!¡± Dylan heard his mother yelling from the crowd. She stumbled over to where he and Ashley now stood. ¡°Y¡¯all see my baby win this game?¡± she shouted, looking around at the crowd and smiling. ¡°Mom,¡± Dylan said, ¡°it was the team, not me.¡± She scrunched up her face in disdain and waved her hand in front of her face as if she were knocking the idea out of the air. Pushing past Ashley she wrapped her arms around Dylan and squeezed. ¡°Your daddy would be proud,¡± she said. ¡°Thanks, mom,¡± Dylan replied, noticing she didn¡¯t say she was proud of him. Then he saw Coach Reynolds talking with a man Dylan thought must be the OU recruiter. Coach was laughing and patting the man on the shoulder. It looked like things went well and Dylan could feel himself getting anxious. ¡°Here comes Coach,¡± he said, taking his mom by the arm and directing her attention toward the two men heading their way. His mother patted her hair with one hand and ran her tongue over her teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything in my teeth do I, Ashley baby?¡± She bared her teeth in something like a smile. ¡°No, you¡¯re good, Ms. Wilson,¡± Ashley said, smiling. She was beautiful. Dylan made a mental note to tell her later. Dylan found it easy to read Coach Reynolds¡¯ feelings. When he was angry, he had a vein on his forehead that would stand out. When he was worried, his brows furrowed until they nearly met in the middle and the hair on the left side of his part would stand up like a gray feather. Right now, there was a little bounce in his step and he was talking at breakneck speed. ¡°Dylan, Mrs. Wilson,¡± Coach said as he walked up. ¡°Now, Coach, you know it¡¯s Ms.,¡± his mother said, swaying back and forth girlishly. ¡°And who is this?¡± ¡°This is Mike Clayton from the University of Oklahoma. He came tonight to watch our boy here,¡± he said, slapping Dylan on the back harder than he meant to. Dylan was grateful he was still wearing pads. Ms. Wilson looked from Coach to the older man next to him then to Dylan. She had a smile pasted on her face, but her eyes said more than her mouth ever could. Her pupils were constricted, pinpoints of fire in the sea of her blue irises. As big as he was, 6¡¯3¡± and 195 lbs. (a high school coach¡¯s dream), his mother¡¯s eyes could still turn his blood to ice. He was in for it later. Maybe he could stay out with Ashley late enough that his mom would be passed out from vodka and Xanax by the time he made it home. But for now, he needed to charm the shit out of this guy. ¡°Hello, Mr. Clayton. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡± ¡°Believe me, Dylan, the pleasure is all mine. I¡¯d like to talk to you and your mother about your future at OU,¡± Mr. Clayton said, shaking Dylan¡¯s outstretched hand then turning to his mother. ¡°Can I take you two to lunch tomorrow?¡± Dylan watched his mother¡¯s head tilt ever so slightly and her smile widen. ¡°Of course. How is 11 o¡¯clock at Sharla¡¯s Diner?¡± ¡°Perfect.¡± ¡°And I do hope you will be joining us, Coach Reynolds,¡± she said. ¡°Happy to, Ms. Wilson,¡± Coach said. ¡°Give Mommy a kiss,¡± she said to Dylan, tapping her cheek with a nicotine stained finger. Dylan did as he was told, then put his arm around Ashley who snuggled in close to him. Where his mother was unpredictable and dangerous, Ashley was grounded and sweet. ¡°Well, I¡¯m heading to the house. Don¡¯t stay out too late, baby,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll see you boys tomorrow.¡± She wiggled her fingers at Coach Reynolds and Mr. Clayton as she walked away, swaying her hips more than necessary. That night the team celebrated their win with a bonfire at the rock pit. There was beer and several joints made their way around, but Dylan had to be at his best for lunch tomorrow so he and Ashley left early and went parking on the hill overlooking the fire. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you, Dylan. Just think...this time next year, you will be playing for OU,¡± Ashley said dreamily. Most people thought Dylan was the most humble player on the team even though he had the most talent. The truth was that, while he did have some humility, compliments made him feel embarrassed and like he needed to discredit them. But here, with Ashley, he felt pride welling up in his chest. ¡°Come here,¡± he said, patting his leg. Ashley giggled and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. A lock of her dark hair had fallen loose from her ponytail and hung over her cheek. Dylan brushed it aside and kissed the place near her left eye where the freckles formed what he thought looked like a constellation; a grouping of stars created for him alone. ¡°And you¡¯ll be there, cheering me on in one of those cute little cheerleading costumes,¡± he said, running his finger along her leg to the hem of her cheer skirt. ¡°Dylan Wilson, I no more wear a cheer costume than you wear a football costume and you know it,¡± she said, feigning irritation and slapping his hand away. ¡°Fine, fine, it¡¯s a uniform,¡± he said, laughing. ¡°Cheer is a serious sport that requires discipline and skill. Blah, blah, blah.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Damn straight,¡± she said, straightening her back and lifting her chin. Dylan thought about how lucky he was. He could name four guys from the team who would give their throwing arms to date Ashley. She was smart, expecting a full ride to college on the basis of her academics; she was kind, helping anyone who needed it or finding someone who could; and she was beautiful, though most would probably say her round face and slightly turned up nose qualified as cute rather than beautiful. It didn¡¯t matter. She was his and he was hers. ¡°My God, you¡¯re beautiful,¡± he whispered. She kissed him then put her forehead against his. ¡°I love you, Dylan Wilson,¡± she said. ¡°I love you too,¡± he said before losing himself in her. *** His mother was still awake watching TV when Dylan opened the door to their house that night. Trying to sneak in was always tricky because the house was so old it cried out every time a door or window was opened. Because of frequent use the front door usually gave the least objection and was easiest to use, especially on nights when he expected his mother to be passed out from drinking or pills. ¡°Well, look who it is,¡± she said, lazily lifting her body from the couch. She walked toward him, swinging the hand that held her cigarette slowly at her side. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late.¡± He shut the door softly behind him. ¡°Guess I better get used to you being gone, huh? Mr. Big Time College Guy.¡± As she got closer he could smell the beer and cheap vodka he often thought seeped from her pores. ¡°It¡¯s just OU. I won¡¯t be far.¡± She pulled back her hand and slapped him hard on the cheek. The taste of metal filled his mouth and water filled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s just OU. I won¡¯t be far,¡± she said mockingly. ¡°But you won¡¯t be here, will you, you fucking crybaby?¡± Her voice was getting louder and her words more drawn out. ¡°Mom --¡± ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®Mom¡¯ me. You think I raised you so you could leave me, you stupid little fuck?¡± She stared at him as if she expected an answer but Dylan knew better. The best thing he could do was keep silent. Once, when he was 14 he decided he wasn¡¯t going to take her shit anymore. She was drunk and calling him the usual names -- pussy, crybaby, piece of shit, all the hits -- because he wouldn¡¯t slow dance with her to some stupid Waylon Jennings song. He was bigger than her and thought if he stood up to her she would stop hitting him, so he yelled at her that he was grown and she couldn¡¯t make him do anything anymore. He regretted it instantly. She broke into baleful laughter and sauntered into the kitchen where she started rummaging through the junk drawer. When she finally finished she was holding an extension cord and coming toward him. It felt as though she hit him with that cord forever. He had welts up and down his arms and legs and he was sure she had broken the skin in several places. After she was done, his mother told Dylan not to ever tell her no again and put the Waylon song back on. ¡°You think you¡¯re so strong,¡± she said as they danced, running her finger up and down his bicep. ¡°But you ain¡¯t your daddy,¡± she grabbed his chin and forced him to look into her eyes, ¡°and without me, you ain¡¯t shit.¡± She had the same look she had that night and it was Dylan¡¯s instinct to tread lightly. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be happy. You¡¯re the reason I ever picked up a ball. I thought you¡¯d want me to go to college,¡± he said, squeezing past her in order to get to his room where he could shut the door and be alone, safe from her anger. She grabbed his duffle bag in an effort to keep him there with her. He let go and left her holding it. Once in his room, he locked the door and lay down on his bed, legs dangling over the side, staring at the ceiling. His mother raged on the other side of the door. When that didn¡¯t work, she cried and wailed about sons who abandon their loving mothers, begging him to let her in. And finally, exhausted, she said one last thing before stumbling off to bed. ¡°You ain¡¯t shit without me. You won¡¯t go to OU. You won¡¯t leave this town. You¡¯re not good enough to leave this shithole.¡± *** ¡°Hey, Coach, Mrs. Burns said you wanted to see me.¡± Dylan pushed the door to Coach Reynolds¡¯ office open and peeked in. He sat behind his desk grinning and the principal sat across from him. They both stood up when Dylan entered. ¡°Guess who I just got off the phone with,¡± said Coach. The short, fat principal was about to burst with excitement and thrust his hands out in front of him. ¡°Mike Clayton,¡± he said. ¡°From OU.¡± Coach Reynolds looked at the man and rolled his eyes. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Sanders, I¡¯m sure he remembers Mike, it¡¯s only been a few weeks.¡± ¡°Er...of course, of course. Come in, young man. Take a seat,¡± Mr. Sanders said. ¡°They want you, son,¡± Coach Reynolds said, puffing out his chest and smiling big enough to show all his teeth. Dylan couldn¡¯t believe it. ¡°Say it again, Coach,¡± he said quietly. He was sure he had heard it wrong. The two men laughed and Coach repeated his words, this time with more enthusiasm. He had been hopeful, but Dylan didn¡¯t really think OU would want him. He was a good ball player but only a mediocre student, extra tutoring is the only thing that kept him from failing Algebra II. College was a dream he only entertained when Coach pushed him to. ¡°Did they offer a scholarship?¡± Dylan asked. ¡°¡®Cause I don¡¯t have the money to pay for it. I¡¯ll have to say no.¡± ¡°Huh-ho did they ever,¡± Mr. Sanders said, rubbing his hands together briskly in front of him. ¡°All four years plus housing. They want you bad, Dylan.¡± Coach Reynolds put both his hands on Dylan¡¯s shoulders. ¡°How does a full ride sound?¡± he asked, then he sat down on the edge of his desk waiting for Dylan to respond to the news. Dylan took a deep breath. It sounded like a ticket out of Roland, that¡¯s what it sounded like. Freedom from the small minds and even smaller dreams of the small town. Freedom from the shadow of his father and the suffocating hold of his mother. But he couldn¡¯t say all that to Coach Reynolds, and certainly not to Mr. Sanders. Instead, he just smiled and nodded his head, enjoying the euphoria of the moment. ¡°I always knew you¡¯d get picked up,¡± Mr. Sanders said. ¡°When I first saw you play your Freshman year I told Mrs. Sanders, I said, ¡®That boy¡¯s got talent. If he plays his cards right, he¡¯s going places.¡¯¡± ¡°Thank you, Mr. Sanders,¡± Dylan said. The two men kept slapping his back and each other¡¯s and talking in hurried voices. Dylan was struggling to hear and his eyelids were slamming shut, taking much more effort to open than usual. The room was a vortex of sound and light and if he opened his mouth he would scream or burst into tears, or both. ¡°You okay, boy?¡± ¡°Dylan?¡± He could not answer. He had to find something solid, something real. Extending his arms to find something to hold on to, but finding nothing in the immediate vicinity, he decided on the floor and steadily lowered himself until he was lying down on the cold tile of Coach¡¯s office. He could hear the bustle of his coach and principal trying to figure out what was going on and calling for the nurse, but his eyes were closed and all he could think about was how nice the cold tile felt against his cheek and how he would love to lie there like that forever. Strange as it was, Dylan felt safe. His heart was beating, his lungs were breathing, and if he stayed here he wouldn¡¯t have to tell his mother he was leaving. He was sitting up in one of the chairs with Coach Reynolds standing, hands on hips, watching him and Mr. Sanders fanning him with a magazine he grabbed from the desk before the nurse even arrived. He told them all he was fine and just got a little overwhelmed and, after drinking the juice Nurse Becky had thrust into his hand, he was able to go back to class. ¡°Are you okay, babe?¡± Ashley asked. She was lying down in the seat of his truck with her hand in his lap. They had driven to their usual spot at Wilson Rock after school and, making good use of the seclusion, he had made love to her. She had been surprised by his urgency, but he needed to hold her, to feel her beneath him. ¡°Mmm¡­¡± he said, stroking her face with his fingers and looking out the window. A few cars he recognized from school were creeping up the dirt road leading to the water and he was glad they got here early. He tried to smile. ¡°Of course I am. I¡¯m here with you, ain¡¯t I?¡± Dylan¡¯s mother took every opportunity to remind him that he was young and that there were plenty of other girls out there other than Ashley. She told him all the time that he should be playing the field and had once brought a woman home from work for the sole purpose of fucking Dylan. The woman was probably in her late twenties and he supposed she was pretty, but her makeup was too dark, she smelled like his mother, and she wasn¡¯t Ashley. He had locked himself in his room while she and his mother got drunk and invited two guys from the plant over instead. His mother had teased him for weeks after that, calling him a fag and a pussy. ¡°I need to tell you something,¡± Ashley said, biting her bottom lip. Dylan could see tears well up in her eyes. ¡°What?¡± he asked. He stopped rubbing her cheek and sat up straighter. His back was against the door and the arm rest dug into his lower back. Ashley sat up and adjusted herself so she was facing him. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to tell you this,¡± she said, looking past him into the woods. What could she possibly need to tell him that had her so worried Dylan wondered. The best thing about their relationship was that they trusted one another, not just with secrets or things of that nature, but with themselves. True, he had not told her about OU yet, but he would, he would tell her before he took her home. ¡°Just tell me, baby. What is it?¡± Dylan took her hand and rubbed his class ring. She wore it on her pointer finger but still had to wrap it with string to make it fit. ¡°I¡¯m pregnant.¡± Her eyes darted to his and lingered, searching for a reaction. ¡°What?¡± She repeated the news adding, ¡°Eleven weeks.¡± Eleven weeks? Dylan did some quick math. She knew she was pregnant weeks ago and didn¡¯t tell him. Ashley was crying freely now and Dylan looked down, trying to control the message his face sent. Just a few hours ago he had been faced with the freedom a football scholarship gave him. He was still processing that. He wasn¡¯t ready for this. He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever be ready for this. ¡°Say something, Dylan,¡± she said, picking at her fingernails. She picked her nails when she was nervous. When they first started dating they were bloody and raw, they were that way now. Why hadn¡¯t he noticed? Dylan put his hand on hers to stop her. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me before now?¡± ¡°I was going to but you had the recruiter coming and you were working so hard to get your Algebra grade up, I didn¡¯t want to distract you.¡± He raised his eyes to meet hers again. ¡°So why tell me now?¡± He didn¡¯t want to sound angry, but he was. The look on Ashley¡¯s face at these words stopped him. He had hurt her. Why did he say it like that? He was fighting himself. He wasn¡¯t irrational. He knew they were both responsible for this. He always had condoms available. Always. Not using one was a choice they both made. No excuses. It wasn¡¯t her fault. ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to do this alone,¡± Ashley said softly. She turned her head away from him and pulled her hands back. Inside his head he was screaming. God damnit! How could you do this? You¡¯ve ruined your fucking life. It¡¯s over. OVER. ¡°Come here,¡± Dylan said, taking Ashley in his arms and kissing her forehead. ¡°You¡¯re not alone. I¡¯ll never leave you alone.¡± *** Dylan¡¯s mom was carrying in groceries when he pulled his truck into the driveway. ¡°Need some help?¡± he called to her. ¡°This is the last of it,¡± she said. ¡°I got it,¡± he said, jumping out of the truck and taking the bags from her. When all the groceries were put away Dylan took two beers from the refrigerator. His mother was on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune, guessing out loud, always wrong. He gave her one of the beers and sat next to her. ¡°You ever hear from that OU guy?¡± she asked. Dylan couldn¡¯t help but laugh a little and shake his head. The universe sure had a sense of humor. He opened his beer. ¡°They went with another guy. Wide receiver from Yukon I think,¡± Dylan lied. No point telling her about the scholarship. She would want to fight about it even after he told her he wouldn¡¯t be taking it. He wasn¡¯t ready for the conversation that would follow, and he needed to be ready. ¡°Figures. That guy probably has better hands. I can get you on at the plant after graduation,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll just tell Dale that if he doesn¡¯t give you a job his wife will find out about me and him outside the Alibi last week.¡± He nodded his head and took a drink. It was funny how surreal the moment felt. His worst fear had always been staying in Roland, working at the plant with his mom to feed a brood of dirty faced kids, drinking his life away. She watched Dylan take another long drink of his beer. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t drink.¡± ¡°I do now.¡± Gone Fishin Darla Mason draped herself over the thick, almost hairless legs of her lover and turned the television to the local evening news. The anchorwoman had blonde hair curled and teased out to create a helmet of hairspray and mousse. Instead of looking well kempt and sophisticated, as intended, she looked used and discarded, a cheap drugstore kind of class. The television was muted because the sound distracted young Bradley, making his throes of passion less passionate and thus his visit a waste of time. The anchor woman''s red lips moved slowly, never breaking her pseudo-smile, as she read from the teleprompter. A police sketch of two men appeared in the upper corner of the screen which made Darla scramble to turn up the volume. ¡°The woman says the men grabbed her, pulled her into the truck, and drove for some time before raping her and leaving her in a ditch near Wilson Rock Road,¡± the red lips said. Darla recognized the men. The drawings weren¡¯t very good, but she knew them. One of the men was her husband. Eight years ago Darla had met Lloyd Mason in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. She had gone home with him after the meeting and had never left. Two weeks later, they were married and moved in with Lloyd¡¯s momma who¡¯d died soon after. His brothers, Andy and L.B., had houses on either side of their momma¡¯s former homestead. Andy, Lloyd¡¯s oldest brother, lived in a red brick house left of theirs with his wife, Kim. They had a couple of kids and Andy stayed away from serious trouble. He had a taste for booze though, and when he went on a bender Kim became everything he despised and would try to hide the embarrassing bruises for the next week or so. But Andy kept a job and, as far as Darla was concerned, that counted for something. To say L.B., Lloyd¡¯s younger brother, lived in a house on the right of Darla and Lloyd would be an exaggeration. L.B., whose real name was Elroy, but who was called Lil Bit so long that when he grew up people shortened it to L.B, lived in a two room building made from scraps of wood, down the hill on the right of Lloyd and Darla. Behind his small shack he kept a greenhouse where he grew his weed. At first, Darla couldn¡¯t believe he would keep a greenhouse full of marijuana so close to his momma, who was a God fearin¡¯ woman. But he did and he sold to the kids at school, the fellas on the police department, and a few other good ol¡¯ boys around Roland, Muldrow, and few other small Oklahoma towns. The police, even the ones who weren¡¯t regular customers, knew about the Mason boys¡¯ operation, but never bothered them. Word was the cops were afraid. They were afraid to venture up the mountain, they were afraid of driving the desolate dirt roads, and most of all, they were afraid of Lloyd and L.B. Mason. There were rumors that more than a few men who crossed the Masons still had scars to show for it and a couple disappeared right off the face of the earth. Because the law wouldn¡¯t come onto the mountain, it didn¡¯ t apply there, and Lloyd and L.B. took full advantage. Darla had to shake Bradley¡¯s hand off her arm so she could get out of bed. He looked at her with fresh-out-of-high-school eyes and said, ¡°Come back to bed, Darla. I still got some lovin¡¯ in me yet.¡± ¡°You better git on out of here, Bradley. Your momma goin be lookin¡¯ for you soon and Lloyd is liable to be back any minute.¡± ¡°My momma is always lookin¡¯ for me,¡± the boy said, ¡°and Lloyd don¡¯t scare me none.¡± ¡°Then you are stupider than I thought. Go home,¡± she said, lighting a cigarette. Darla thought very young men made the best lovers. It was easy work enticing an erection, they only needed twenty minutes before they were ready to go again, and they didn¡¯t know enough to be scared of her husband. But she knew. She knew what would happen if Lloyd came home to find her and young Bradley or Tyler or, God forbid, the dark skinned John in her bed. They would find out what there was to be afraid of. Lloyd would show them what Darla already knew. Bradley walked over to her and pulled her close. ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave, Darla.¡± He guided her hand over his body and she was tempted to let him stay but thought better of it. ¡°Get dressed,¡± she said, walking to the bathroom, ¡°and go home.¡± She slammed the bathroom door and locked it. After trying the doorknob a few times, Bradley gave up and began putting his clothes on. ¡°I love you, Darla Mason,¡± he said through the door, ¡°and I know you love me.¡± Darla sighed. She did not love Bradley. She loved his youth. She loved his body and the way it made her feel. She even loved the scar he got climbing his momma¡¯s fence when he was eleven, but she did not love him. She listened silently as he left her house and made his way through the woods to where his truck was hidden. As she sat with her back against the bathroom door, Lloyd came home. ¡°Darla. Darla, where you at?¡± In a panic, Darla left the bathroom and hurried to make the bed. ¡°I¡¯m ¡® bout to get in the shower,¡± she answered, relieved she ran Bradley off when she did. ¡°Shit, Darla, you just standing around naked and I could have been anybody come in this house. What are you trying to do?¡± ¡°I ain¡¯t trying to do nothing but take a shower, Lloyd. I can¡¯t do that with my clothes on.¡± Trying to control the trembling in her hands, she smiled coyly at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. ¡°You could get in that shower with me.¡± He pushed her arms off his neck so hard she fell and hit her head on the corner of the dresser. ¡°Get off me.¡± Darla slid her fingers through her dark hair to the back of her head and felt the slippery warmness of blood. Stumbling a little, she stood up and tears filled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be walking around naked when I ain¡¯t home.¡± His eyes were unfeeling and cruel. She had heard of the things Lloyd got up to, but Darla could not believe he would rape some young girl. Oh, she knew he was capable, Lloyd was capable of many things both kind and cruel. Many times he had come home drunk and Darla had been dragged from sleep by the ankle. She had clawed at the floor crying for help. She had struggled under his weight and felt the thrust of his anger. And L.B. was every bit as mean as Lloyd, maybe meaner. He always enjoyed the pain and suffering of others, especially if he caused it. After dressing and patching her wounded head as best she could, Darla sat in the swing hung on the porch, pushing herself back and forth with her bare feet. She heard the phone ringing inside the house and she slowly went to answer it. ¡°Hello,¡± she said. ¡°Darla?¡± It was her mother. And she was crying. ¡°Momma? What¡¯s wrong?¡± Darla asked. ¡°Oh, Darla, it¡¯s awful,¡± her mother said through her sobs. ¡°What¡¯s awful? Momma, you¡¯re gonna have to calm down. You¡¯re scaring me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Peggy.¡± Peggy was Darla¡¯s niece. It had been years since Darla had seen her, because Peggy¡¯s momma, Darla¡¯s sister, had quit speaking to Darla nearly seven years ago because she didn¡¯t like the choices Darla made. She said she wouldn¡¯t stand by and watch Darla ruin her life with booze and men. Peggy was twelve years old the last time Darla laid eyes on her. ¡°What about Peggy?¡± she asked. ¡°She tried to commit suicide, Darla. That girl who¡¯s been on the news for getting raped by them boys -- that was Peggy. She just couldn¡¯t handle what happened and took a bunch of pills.¡± If there was more to the story, Darla didn¡¯t hear it. She put the phone receiver down and went back to the porch swing. There was a cooler sitting on the porch and she was happy to find it had a few beers in it. She cracked one open, drank it quickly, then reached for another. It was dark and she could see through the windows at L.B.¡¯s house and saw Lloyd sitting in the window drinking beer and laughing. They had spoiled the innocence of her niece who had probably not yet screwed her life up with a string of bad men and booze and they were having a good ol¡¯ time. Peggy tried to kill herself and they were laughing. Darla¡¯s anger pulsed in her head and shook her body. She watched the smoke from her cigarette swirl in the darkness for a moment. The sadness she kept pushed down and silent began to creep up. In her life, anger was better than sorrow, and revenge better than forgiveness. Closing her eyes to force away the tears, Darla allowed the anger to force the sadness away and made a decision. Lloyd was of the kind who didn¡¯t like work at all and especially avoided hard work. He worked when he had to, repairing cars, moving furniture, or cutting wood for friends or neighbors willing to pay and occasionally he would get a real job; the kind where he got an hourly wage and a check he had to cash at the bank. But when he¡¯d made enough money to pay the bills or buy what it was he wanted bad enough to work for, he would take the money he earned, buy some beer, and disappear for a few days. When he returned, he would knock Darla around a bit, forget about the job, and go back to loafing with L.B. or Bubby, his buddy from high school who lived down the road, until he decided he needed a job. Their marriage consisted of a pattern of violence and poverty with brief moments of happiness. Those moments were what Darla held on to. That and the embarrassment she felt at the life she lived. Leaving him would mean her mother was right, something she would never admit. It was easier to fake a smile and laugh when people criticized your choices if you never let on how right they were. Several days after the phone call from her mother, Darla put on short jean shorts and headed to Bubby¡¯s house. Lloyd was gone again, possibly hiding from the police, and Darla needed to find him. She knew the best way was to let his friends know she was looking for him and the best way to get them to pay attention to her was to show them some skin. Like most of the houses on the mountain, Bubby¡¯s appeared to be built from discarded lumber and scotch tape. When they were first married, Lloyd would bring her with him to see his friends. He liked to show off her tight ass and loose morals. Now she was no longer included. Lloyd much preferred leaving her home alone while he ran all over the mountain doing God knows what. ¡°Hey, Bubby,¡± Darla said, walking up his gravel driveway. He was leaning into the open hood of an old white El Camino. When he heard her voice, he put down his tools and began wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from his back pocket. ¡°Well hey yourself, Darla. I ain¡¯t seen you in a month of Sundays,¡± he said. Darla smiled sweetly. ¡°Longer. You still workin¡¯ on that damn car? You gonna be too old to drive by the time you git it goin¡¯.¡± Darla could feel his eyes on her and added a little extra swing to her hips. Bubby stared awkwardly at her and shifted from one foot to the other. ¡°You need something?¡± he asked. ¡°I need my man. You seen him?¡± Darla knew he would not tell her where he was, not unless he wanted an ass whoopin¡¯ from Lloyd, but he would get word to him that she was looking for him. ¡°Oh, you know how ol¡¯ Lloyd is.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Darla said, inching closer to the big man, ¡°I do know how he is.¡± ¡°If I see him, I¡¯ll let him know you¡¯re lookin¡¯ fer him.¡± ¡°If you see him. I¡¯m sure he will be home soon so don¡¯t go out of your way,¡± she said, playing it off as if she didn¡¯t care if he was found or not. The next day, while Darla sat in the front porch swing painting her toenails hot pink, Lloyd¡¯s truck sped up the hill in a cloud of dust. She squinted into the sun as Lloyd got out of his truck. He walked toward her with a lop-sided swagger. His Wranglers and t-shirt were covered with oil and dirt. It was a familiar sight that Darla had once found sexy and masculine. Now it was just grime and a walk affected by liquor. ¡°Saw Bubby today,¡± he said, pushing the squeaky gate open. Darla screwed the cap onto her nail polish and stood up. She looked to see if L.B. had decided to come home too. Usually where one went the other followed, but L.B.¡¯s car was nowhere to be found and she knew Lloyd probably didn¡¯t plan on staying long. ¡°I said I saw Bubby today.¡± ¡°Did ya?¡± She asked. ¡°Yep. What you doin¡¯ goin¡¯ over there?¡± ¡°I was just wondrin¡¯ if he knew where you was.¡± In an attempt to abate the anger she saw in the set of his jaw, Darla glided over and wrapped her arms around Lloyd¡¯s middle. ¡°I missed you,¡± she said. He grunted in response. ¡°You been gone for days, baby. I wanted you to come home.¡± He hugged her, planted a kiss on her forehead, and swiftly swatted her behind. ¡°Well, I¡¯m home,¡± he said then walked into the house. ¡°Think we could go down to the rock pit and go fishin¡¯?¡± she asked him, following close behind. ¡°Today?¡± Lloyd asked. ¡°Well¡­yeah. I been here all week bored to death,¡± she said briefly thinking of the afternoon two days ago when John had snuck in by way of the woods and came in through a window. An hour later he left the same way. ¡°And the weather is perfect. I bet the fish are bitin¡¯.¡± Darla packed some food into an old backpack while Lloyd showered. She filled the cooler with plenty of beer; Pabst Blue Ribbon, the redneck drink of choice, and the only beer Lloyd ever drank. Because she wanted to take Lloyd¡¯s truck to Wilson Rock rather than walking to the rock pit, she started loading the food, beer, and fishing equipment into the truck bed. ¡°Good Lord, woman,¡± he said when he came outside, ¡°you¡¯d think we was goin¡¯ on a week vacation you packed so much. We don¡¯t need all that.¡± ¡°There ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ here we don¡¯t need, baby. All I got was food and drinks and fishin¡¯ stuff.¡± He twisted his neck to look in the back of the truck. ¡°We can¡¯t drive this through the woods to the Rock Pit and I sure as hell ain¡¯t carrying all that.¡± ¡°I thought maybe we could just drive over to Wilson Rock and fish there instead.¡± Leaning in close to Lloyd and making a circle with her finger around his belly button, she lowered her voice to a little girl whisper and looked up at him. ¡°I brought us a blanket too,¡± she said.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Git in, ornery,¡± he said, opening the truck door for her. Darla wanted to be wrong about Lloyd. She wanted him to be kind and loving, but he was cruel. He had hurt her more than she cared to think about over the years. She wanted to believe that he never meant to, but was never quite able to convince herself of that. They had some good times too. There was a picture hanging up on the wall at Ed Walker¡¯s in Fort Smith, where they went after their wedding. It showed them laughing and dancing together. Proof they had good times. And even though she had three miscarriages, Lloyd never blamed Darla. That meant something. It meant he loved her. Wilson Rock was tucked deep into the woods but only a short drive from Lloyd and Darla¡¯s. They fished for a while, laughing and talking, and Darla had almost decided she was mistaken about the picture on the news. That couldn¡¯t have been her husband, but she thought it better to ask him some questions so when things weren¡¯t going so good she didn¡¯t get back on the idea it was him. ¡°I ain¡¯t been here to Wilson Rock in forever, Lloyd,¡± she said, scooting her bottom closer to his and laying her head on his shoulder. ¡°Have you?¡± She felt him stiffen for a moment. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. Me and L.B. come here sometimes,¡± Lloyd said, shrugging his shoulder so Darla would lift her head. ¡°How¡¯s your momma been?¡± At that moment the flame that had almost gone out in Darla¡¯s stomach flared up. He was changing the subject. ¡°You know Momma. She keeps on no matter what. When was the last time you was here with L.B.?¡± ¡°Few weeks ago I guess. Why you askin¡¯? Don¡¯t ask me so many goddamn questions.¡± He¡¯d drunk quite a few of the beers Darla packed and his words were falling together, but she saw the anger in his eyes and heard the danger in his voice. ¡°No reason,¡± she said, giving him another beer. ¡°This is just so secluded, nobody around, and I was just thinkin¡¯ bout you and L.B. bein¡¯ here. Seems funny when it¡¯s such a quiet place and L.B. being not so quiet.¡± She forced a little giggle and stood up. She had made sure the tackle box was in the path from where she sat to where the blanket was. As she walked over to the blanket, she reached in and pulled out Lloyd¡¯s seven inch fillet knife. His ¡°fish guttin¡¯¡± knife. She tucked it under the tattered edge of the blanket and began to undress, tossing her clothes far from where she stood. ¡°Lloyd,¡± she said as she threw her panties as close to him as she could, ¡°come over here with me.¡± He turned his head enough to see her standing there naked. He sat the beer down and picked up her panties and held them up to his face before stuffing them in his pocket, something he did when they were first married. He¡¯d said he kept them for a day or so as a souvenir. As he rose to his feet he wobbled, nearly losing his balance. ¡°Come on, baby,¡± Darla said, ¡°I¡¯m gonna show what this place is good for.¡± Lloyd shuffled and stumbled his way over to the blanket and groped her as she laid him down on the blanket. ¡°Lloyd,¡± she said, straddling the big man, ¡°did you hear there was a woman who was raped up here and left on the road a couple months ago?¡± He was lost in the booze and her body and mumbled something she couldn¡¯" t understand. ¡°I saw it on the news, that¡¯s why I wanted to come here,¡± she said. ¡°Why? You wanna play rough?¡± Lloyd asked, offering a sloppy smile and attempting to throw Darla from her position of power. She stiffened in resistance and he was too drunk to force her off. ¡°No,¡± she said. She leaned forward so their noses were nearly touching as she spoke. ¡°When I saw it and realized how secluded this place is and that you and L.B. come out here all the time, I got worried.¡± His eyes were closed and she knew he did not know where the conversation was going. ¡°There was a drawing of the two men who abducted her,¡± she said. Lloyd¡¯h s eyes slowly opened. Darla reached under the edge of the blanket feeling for the knife. When she felt the handle firmly in the palm of her hand, she continued. ¡° It looked like you and L.B.¡± Lloyd tried to struggle, but he was too drunk and slow. Darla pulled the knife from under the blanket and held it against his gut. ¡°You and L.B. picked that girl up and brought her out here and raped her,¡± she said through gritted teeth. ¡°You raped her and left her for dead on the side of the road. I was home washing your laundry, cleaning your house, and cooking a supper you wouldn¡¯t be home to eat and you were out fucking that girl.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid, Darla.¡± ¡°Why would you do that, Lloyd? Why?¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t us.¡± Anger grew in Darla and she could feel her entire body trembling. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me! I know it was you. I saw your picture on the news.¡± Lloyd only stared at her so she pressed on him with the knife, not enough to cut him, but enough to remind him she could. ¡°That girl, she was my sister¡¯s baby. My niece.¡± ¡°So what,¡± Lloyd said. ¡°What did you say?¡± Darla asked, crying now. ¡°I said so what. I went out and found that nice piece of sweet ass because I didn¡¯t want your tired, used up snatch.¡± Lloyd gave a half-smile, half-snarl. ¡°I shoulda knowed she was your family. She sounded just like you do when you get fucked.¡± Shaking so hard she could barely control herself, Darla spit in Lloyd¡¯s face. She no longer saw her husband. Instead she saw a monster -- cruel, hideous, dangerous, familiar. ¡°Fuck you, you bi--,¡± he said. Darla held the handle with both hands and leaned hard on the knife. She felt the soft flesh beneath it give way and she pulled up as hard as she could. Her hands felt slippery and warm as they guided the knife through muscle and fat to the precious organs. Lloyd¡¯s eyes widened and blood bubbles came out of his mouth, muffling the gurgling sounds he made. Darla leaned in close to Lloyd¡¯s ear and whispered, ¡°No, fuck you,¡± as she pulled up on the knife one last time. In a haze of exhaustion and shock, Darla walked to the edge of the murky water. She was shaking and her knees were incredibly weak as she waded in. Around her the water turned from muddy green-brown to red and she felt sick. Fighting the urge to throw up she dove in, allowing the cool water to comfort and calm her. When she felt she gained control of herself again, she began the work of cleaning up. She put all the fishing equipment and food into the bed of the pickup truck. Then she undressed Lloyd. She would have to get rid of his clothes later. Darla wrapped the blanket around Lloyd¡¯s body and dragged him to a steep edge of the bank where the water was deep beneath, then held onto the edge of the blanket and rolled the body out of its cocoon and into the water. It was getting dark, but Darla could see there was a small puddle of blood on the ground where Lloyd had been. After putting on her clothes, she did her best to cover the puddle with dirt and brush from the woods and drove home. As she pulled into the driveway, Darla prayed L.B. would not be home, and if he was, that he would not see her get out of the truck. She was relieved to not to see his car and that the windows were all dark. She took the backpack and her fishing pole into the house then carried Lloyd¡¯s pole, his clothes, the tackle box, and the cooler through the woods to the rock pit behind their house. The darkness made it difficult to see, but she had trekked the path so many times she didn¡¯t need light to find her way. Once there, she arranged the items to look as though Lloyd had been there fishing. After making sure she had taken care of everything, she went back home. The last bit of business to take care of was the blanket and bloody clothes. She wadded it up tight and put it in a trash bag. The city didn¡¯t collect the trash from the mountain; instead, the people who lived there burned their trash in big barrels usually behind their homes. There were bags of trash from the last few weeks piled up behind the house in a wooden bin near to the burn barrels. Darla took the bag with the blanket in it and stuffed it in among the other bags then piled a few more on top. She would wait a few days before burning them to keep from raising suspicion by burning trash in the middle of the night immediately after he disappeared. The last thing she wanted was someone sifting through the ashes in her burn barrel. *** Darla was in her yard pulling weeds from her flower beds when L.B. came racing into the driveway shared by the two houses. She smiled and waved at him as he got out of his car. He only nodded his head in return and Darla watched as he walked toward his house. She was always taken aback by how alike L.B. and Lloyd were. True, L.B.¡¯s hair was straight where Lloyd¡¯s was curly and L.B. was short and stout while Lloyd was tall and lean. But they both walked with the same stride, had the same boisterous laugh, and both made her feel a mixture of fear and desire. She was inside putting away her trowel under the kitchen sink when she heard the squeak of the gate. L.B. knocked on the door then came in. ¡°Hey, Darla,¡± he said. ¡°Lloyd around?¡± Darla wiped her hands on the back of her shorts to hide the trembling and smiled. ¡°No, he sure ain¡¯t.¡± ¡°His truck is out front. Means he ought to be here,¡± L.B. said, looking around the living room for evidence of Lloyd. ¡°I assumed he was with you,¡± Darla said, ¡°or maybe Bubby.¡± ¡°He ain¡¯t with me. And I just left Bubby¡¯s a while ago. He ain¡¯t there neither.¡± L.B. stepped closer to Darla, stopping to look into her bedroom. ¡°In fact, Bubby says you was there a couple days ago looking for Lloyd and that Lloyd said he was coming home yesterday.¡± Doing her best to appear worried, Darla said, "He did come home, but I took a nap and when I woke up he was gone. I thought maybe he left with one of you boys.¡± He stood silent for a moment then gave Darla a half-smile. ¡°You hear ¡® bout that girl at Wilson Rock?¡± he asked. ¡°I did,¡± she answered. ¡°It¡¯s a damn shame. Poor girl. She was awful young.¡± ¡°You see it on the news?¡± Darla only stared at him. ¡°I saw it myself on the news. Had a picture of them guys and everything,¡± L.B. said. His eyes darted around the room then settled firmly on Darla. The two stood looking at one another. Darla was barely breathing. ¡°I¡¯m sure ol¡¯ Lloyd¡¯ll turn up. You know how he is, always up to somethin¡¯,¡± he said. ¡°When you see him, tell him I¡¯m lookin¡¯ fer him.¡± ¡°Will do. You do the same if you see him first,¡± Darla said. That night as Darla lay in bed trying to sleep, she heard a noise on the front porch. After a minute the noise stopped and Darla went to check what was going on, afraid a raccoon or possum drug something onto her porch. She looked out the window and saw something in front of the door. She turned on the porch light and looked out. There, in front of the door, was Lloyd¡¯s fishing pole, his cooler, and his tackle box. As she bent to pick the things up, she noticed L.B.¡¯s porch light go out. Just as she locked the door, the phone rang startling her. She picked up the receiver and said, ¡°Hello.¡± There was silence on the other end, but she could hear someone breathing. ¡°Hello,¡± she said again. ¡°I see you found Lloyd¡¯s things I left you,¡± L.B. said slowly. He was probably drunk or stoned. ¡°Yes, I did.¡± She had to sit down. ¡°Funny thing. I found that stuff down at the rock pit, but Lloyd wasn¡¯t there.¡± ¡°Nope. Just his stuff. Guess he went fishin¡¯ down there.¡± ¡°Guess so,¡± Darla said. ¡°Maybe ¨C¡° ¡°Here¡¯s what I don¡¯t get. You wanna know what I don¡¯t get, Darla?¡± L.B. asked. Darla closed her eyes. ¡°What I don¡¯t get,¡± he said, not waiting for her to answer, ¡°is that he only goes down there with you. And, hell, we both know you just go down there to fuck. He ain¡¯t actually fished there in years. Did you go down there with him, Darla?¡± Darla had to force herself to speak. ¡°No, I told you I woke up from a nap and he was gone.¡± She heard him blow air through his nose and let out a low chuckle. ¡°Sure would hate to think something happened to him,¡± L.B. said. ¡° Don¡¯t you worry though, Darla. If somethin¡¯ happened to my brother, I¡¯ll find out and whoever did it¡¯ll get what¡¯s comin¡¯ to em. Don¡¯t you worry ¡®bout that.¡± ¡°Thank you, L.B.,¡± she said. ¡°Now you get some sleep, Darla. And don¡¯t forget, I¡¯m right here,¡± L.B. said and hung up. Since the police kept clear of the Mason¡¯s, Darla never much worried about going to prison. She actually thought they might be glad to be rid of Lloyd. What she did worry about was Lloyd¡¯s brothers, especially L.B. If he found out what she had done, he would kill her for sure. The next day Darla tried to act as though nothing was wrong. She made a cup of coffee and opened the door to go drink it on the porch like always. When she started out the door she saw a pile of clothes on the swing. It was Lloyd¡¯s pants and shirt and something else on top. When she was close enough to see what was lying on top of Lloyd¡¯s clothes, she dropped her cup and let out a small yelp. It was the pair of panties she was wearing that night at Wilson Rock. She didn¡¯t always wear underwear and had forgotten Lloyd put them in his pocket. Picking them up, she looked over at L.B.¡¯s house and there he was standing in the open doorway watching her. Darla went quickly inside, grabbed the truck keys, and ran to Lloyd¡¯s truck. She headed toward the police station as fast as she could, but hadn¡¯t gone far when she pulled over onto the side of the road. She reached her hand under the seat and fished around, feeling for package she knew was there. Her fingers closed around the plastic bag she was searching for. The gallon size zip-loc bag was full of smaller baggies and a few loose joints; Lloyd and L.B.¡¯s homegrown, packaged to sell. She threw the bag into the seat and raced down the road. Once at the police station, she walked inside and told the frumpy woman behind the window she needed to speak with someone, preferably a detective. The lady looked at her with eyes full of judgment and disdain. ¡°This is Muldrow, honey, we don¡¯t have detectives. Take a seat over there. Someone will talk to you when they can.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care. Anyone. It¡¯s an emergency,¡± Darla said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. ¡°It always is. Take a seat like I said,¡± the woman said, picking up the romance novel she had been reading. Furious, Darla slung the bag of pot onto the counter directly in front of the woman¡¯s face. ¡°Listen here, you stupid bitch, my name is Darla Mason. I need to speak with a police officer.¡± The woman got up and waddled to the back of the office and through a door. A few moments later the door leading to the office behind the glass opened and a tall, fat man in a police uniform said, ¡°Mrs. Mason, I¡¯m Officer Jude. Cathy tells me you need to see me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got this bag of weed and I¡¯m headin¡¯ to the school to sell it,¡±" she said. ¡°Whoa. Whoa. Slow down there ma¡¯am. Why don¡¯t you just take a minute and think about what you¡¯re saying?¡± ¡°Thinking isn¡¯t gonna do shit for me,¡± Darla said, reaching her shaking fingers into the bag and closing them around a joint. She pulled a lighter out of her back pocket. The woman in the office stared with her eyes wide and mouth gaping as Darla brought the joint up to her lips, lit it, and took a long slow drag. Officer Jude¡¯s face turned red and his eyes narrowed. One of his big hands closed around her elbow as the other snatched the joint out of her mouth and threw it to the floor where he crushed it with his foot. ¡°What the --?¡± Darla struggled to keep up with Officer Jude as he pulled her through the office and into a small room. The room was warm, too warm, and had nothing but a table and two chairs in it. He shoved her into a chair then sat across from her. ¡°You wanna tell me what the fuck you were thinking back there? You act like you want me to put you in jail.¡± Darla sat quietly. She did not simply want to be thrown in jail, she needed to be thrown in jail. A jail cell was the only place she could think of where she would be safe from L.B. ¡°You¡¯re Lloyd¡¯s wife ain¡¯t ya?¡± he asked, running his hand through his thinning hair. Offering no response, she sat there with her eyes darting around the room like an animal in a trap. ¡°I know them Mason boys pretty well, Mrs. Mason. L.B. and Lloyd, we do some, er,¡± Officer Jude stopped and cleared his throat, ¡°business. Lloyd won¡¯t be happy about this.¡± Darla¡¯s eyes snapped onto Officer Jude¡¯s face. She was terrified and he could see it. Nodding his head, the police officer let out a little laugh. ¡°He sure is a mean one. Him and Lloyd both are. Say, are you hungry? You need something to eat or drink? Coffee maybe?¡± ¡°No. Thank you,¡± Darla answered, finally able to speak. ¡°Well, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I am going to go get me a cup of coffee then me and you can have us a little talk,¡± he said, walking toward the door. A few minutes later, he returned. Darla watched for a moment as he drank his coffee. Then he sat the cup down and smiled at her. ¡° There now that¡¯s better. How are you feeling, Mrs. Mason?¡± Darla was actually beginning to calm down. He was going to lock her up and she would be safe at least for a while. After a few minutes of sitting in silence drinking his coffee, Officer Jude looked at his watch then started for the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Darla was confused. She expected to be cuffed and questioned then arrested, but instead it was as though she was being babysat. She sat in confused silence for some time before the door opened and Officer Jude returned to his seat. ¡°We got us a little problem, Mrs. Mason,¡± he said. ¡°Problem?¡± she asked, fear causing her throat to close. ¡°See, I ain¡¯t lookin¡¯ to upset your husband.¡± ¡°But you have to put me in jail. I was going to sell that weed to kids at the school.¡± Darla stood up and backed against the wall. ¡°To children.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re aiming to do that,¡± he said. Darla felt as though she was going to be sick. She could not go back home. L.B. knew and would kill her. Officer Jude grabbed her by the arm and began leading her out the door and towards the waiting area. ¡°Now I can see how upset you are and you probably shouldn¡¯t drive like this. So I called someone to come pick you up,¡± he said. Horrified, Darla tried to go back into the interrogation room, but the man would not let go of her arm. She was trying to get loose when she heard the door open and a voice saying, ¡°Thanks for calling me, Billy Ray.¡± She gave up fighting and looked at Officer Jude who was smiling. ¡°Anytime, buddy. You take care now,¡± he said as he handed her over to L.B. Outlaws At an early age Finn Glover set out to be an outlaw. It wasn¡¯t long after she made that decision that her mother, a woman of indomitable spirit, set out to thwart her every attempt at infamy. People often wondered which would happen first; would Finn give up or her momma simply grow too weary in her efforts to keep the girl on the right side of the law to go on living? Finn never felt she made a decision to pursue infamy, rather it was inevitable. It was her destiny. When she was only seven she stood in the backyard with her father while he repaired the hutch for her gray flop-eared bunny, Benedict Arnold, and his new, speckled wife, Gypsy. She watched him as he hammered new chicken wire to the front of the raised enclosure. His skin shone from the sweat that poured down his bare chest, back, and arms, and his black hair fell shaggy in his face. ¡°Finn, git in here and put yer dress on! We leave for church in five minutes,¡± her mother called from the back door. Finn did not move. Wayne Glover stopped hammering and squinted at her. ¡°Git movin¡¯, little lady. You don¡¯t wanna miss church.¡± ¡°Yes, I do. I want to stay here and help you with Benedict Arnold¡¯s cage,¡± Finn said. ¡°You heard your momma. Besides, you¡¯re a lady, only outlaws like me miss church to fix a traitorous rabbit¡¯s cage.¡± ¡°I¡¯m an outlaw too,¡± Finn said and worked up the biggest hawker she could to spit on the ground. Her daddy laughed and poked her round belly with his rough finger. ¡°You just might be an outlaw, Finn, but we can¡¯t let your momma know I done misdirected you into it. So you go on and get dressed for church. This cage will be done when you get back and we¡¯ll go down to the creek and fish for a bit.¡± Finn hugged his neck and kissed his cheek. He tasted like salt and smelled like sunshine. ¡°Okay, Daddy. I love you.¡± ¡°I love you, too, Finny. Now git.¡± Finn sat next to her mother in the sanctuary of the small country church. The preacher was going on and on about hell and brimstone. ¡°Hell is the only destination for those among us who sin. There is eternal damnation for the adulterers, fornicators, liars, and cheaters in this and other congregations¡± and on and on. Finn wasn¡¯t exactly sure what adulterin¡¯ and fornicatin¡¯ were, but it must be real bad because Brother Raymond, the stout, one-eyed preacher, talked about it every Sunday. And every Sunday the front two rows of little old ladies fanned themselves, nodded their heads, and gave the occasional ¡°Amen¡± while the old men fidgeted, coughed, and inspected their shoes. After Brother Raymond finished warning the congregation of the burning lake of fire waiting for them upon their death (which could happen at any moment for the entire two front pews), the collection plate was passed, two hymns were sung, and the preacher opened up the altars for anybody who needed savin¡¯. Finn raised up in the pew and looked around. Freddy Campbell sat in the back of the church with his wife and new baby. The baby was squirming under Mrs. Campbell¡¯s shirt probably looking for some lunch, but Freddy looked peaceful enough. Up two rows and across the aisle was Lana Pratt. Mama said speaking Lana¡¯s name aloud was enough to repent for, but this Sunday she looked content with the way it rolled off the tongue and into the ears of those who heard it. Finn had to stretch her neck even further to see the entire congregation of Jubilee Living Word of the Redeemer Pentecostal Church of God. She was looking for Coop Brown. Monday through Saturday he was drunk and mean (not always in that order), but on Sundays he was good to warm a seat, give some offering, and answer Brother Raymond¡¯s call for redemption. If Coop didn¡¯t answer, Freddy or Lana would slowly creep to the front with tears rolling down their cheeks and let the old ladies and their husbands lay hands and speak tongues until everyone was good and hungry and ready for a rest. Brother Raymond tried real hard to get someone from the congregation to make their way to the front. He gave a message in tongues that Brother Carl Pike stood up and interpreted. God sent a message through Brother Raymond to tell his followers that indeed his words had come from the heavens and a fiery pit of hell awaited the sinners who sat disguised as the faithful in the Jubilee Living Word of the Redeemer Pentecostal Church of God. Finn felt right nervous that nobody was answering the Lord¡¯s beckoning. She was afraid He was talking to her, but still didn¡¯t know if she had been fornicatin¡¯ or adulterin¡¯, but she was an outlaw, and outlaws surely needed forgivin¡¯. Just as Finn decided that if Coop, Freddy, and Lana were all three right with God and didn¡¯t feel the need to repent, the message must have been delivered to the church with the specific purpose of getting Finn Glover up to the altar, the front doors burst wide open and in walked the strangest sight Finn had ever seen in the sanctuary of the church. Miss Melba Tate came up the aisle in a hurry headed straight for the pulpit. She was a large woman. Solid. She didn¡¯t bother showing up to church most Sundays, but everyone knew Melba Tate could quote Scripture like nobody¡¯s business. Most considered her a godly woman even though she had a son but no husband to speak of. Melba was wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, which was unholy for sure, but that wasn¡¯t what got everyone¡¯s attention. She had her right hand closed tight around the crimson ear of her son, Harley. He was waving both arms in circles at his sides and hollering. ¡°Ow, ow, ow,¡± he said as he feigned resistance. In truth there was no resistance because she had his ear twisted up so taut he had no choice but to follow her directly to Brother Raymond. ¡°Brothers and sisters, we have a mother needin¡¯ God¡¯s help with her poor, faithless, troubled son. Come on up her and show them we love ¡®em.¡± With that, Brother Raymond and nearly half the congregation swarmed around the little boy, put their hands on various parts of his upper body, closed their eyes, and began begging God to intervene before it was too late. Harley looked absolutely miserable. He turned his head toward Finn, who was snickering behind her hand, and stuck out his big, purple tongue. Finn only laughed harder until her mother whacked on the back of her head. Finn touched her hand to the spot and turned to find her mother fighting back laughter. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here before they pull you up there, Finn,¡± Momma said, standing and grabbing her purse. At the church doors Finn turned and took one last look at Harley. Brother Martin Ward had him by both shoulders and was shaking violently. Harley''s head was flopping all around while Brother Ward and his cohorts were shouting and having spasms. A few of the women lay on the ground with blankets thrown across their legs peaceful as sleeping babies. Finn giggled while her mother dragged her from the church. "Finn Louise, get yourself together. It ain''t right to laugh at the Lord''s work." "Sorry, Momma," Finn said, but she wasn''t. Finn knew something was wrong as soon as they opened the front door of the house. It was her daddy''s custom to fry bacon on Sundays so they could have a sandwich or two when they got back from church. The smell of the bacon and the sound of her daddy singing were the best parts of the holy day, but neither was present on this particular Sunday. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Her momma knew something was wrong too. "Wayne?" she hollered wandering through the house. "Finn, go change from your dress." "But where''s daddy?" "He''s somewhere. Now, go change before you ruin your dress." "But --" "Now." It wasn''t in her mother''s nature to shout. If she was hollerin'' Wayne was chasing her around the kitchen table trying to kiss on her while she made dinner. Her current shouting only made Finn angry, and she stomped off to her bedroom. Finn struggled to get the dress off. There were layers and layers of ruffles under the skirt and she got tangled in them. "Damn ruffles," she said, kicking the pile of mangled dress under the bed. "Don''t know why I hafta go to church anyway. And if I do, why can''t I just wear my pants like always?" She was still cursing the restrictions placed on her by her attendance at the Jubilee Living Word of the Redeemer Pentecostal Church of God, when she heard her mother scream. Three days later she sat in the front pew of the same church at her father''s funeral. This time her mother let her wear whatever she wanted. She chose to leave the ruffles at home. She picked at a scab on her knee through the hole in her denim overalls and tried not to cry while her mother sobbed next to her. All the old ladies of the church hovered over Finn that afternoon. "Poor little thing." "So small to lose yer daddy." "Tut tut. Bless your heart." It went on endlessly, and Finn hated every minute of it. She felt like a fish in a fishbowl. The waters and people were moving around her, but she could do nothing but swim in a circle gasping for air. That¡¯s what her fish, Booger, did last year before they found him floating on his side and flushed him down the toilet. She wondered if maybe God was standing over his toilet in the sky waiting to flush. Then she would go swirling into the nothingness until she was in heaven. Or maybe hell. Right now she didn¡¯t care which. But she did care which one her daddy went to. She didn¡¯t think he was of the mind to go fornicatin¡¯ or adulterin¡¯ so maybe he didn¡¯t belong in hell. That¡¯s what she told herself when she lay in her bed at night thinking about him. He couldn¡¯t be in Hell burning in the fire lake or sittin¡¯ thirsty and hungry at a banquet that never satisfied because that was no place for a daddy like hers. He was smart, and funny, and he always snuck her a bite of supper when Momma sent her to bed without any. But he was an outlaw who didn¡¯t go to church. The old ladies of Jubilee Living Word of the Redeemer Pentecostal Church of God had asked about him over and over, wondering why he never made it to service. Tired of hearing her mother make up excuses for him, Finn had asked him why he wouldn¡¯t just give up his outlawin¡¯ ways and shut those old blue hairs up for good. ¡°Well, Finn, church ain¡¯t for everybody. I¡¯m what you call an atheist, a non-believer,¡± he answered from under the hood of his truck where he tightened something or oiled something else. Flabbergasted, Finn shrieked, ¡°So you¡¯re a sinner, Daddy?¡± Laughing hard, he¡¯d put down his wrench and picked Finn up so she could look into his face and he into hers. ¡°It¡¯s true some people will say that, but I don¡¯t believe church and God are the only things that make a person good. They help, but there¡¯s more to it than just showing up.¡± ¡°But Brother Raymond says that if you don¡¯t believe that Jesus, the bloody one on the cross at the front of church, not the baby in the manger, and ask him in your heart you will go to hell forever and get burned up every day.¡± Tears ran down her cheeks at the thought of her daddy burning. He wiped the tears from her face with his greasy hand and kissed her forehead. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry about that, baby. Remember when I told you that I¡¯d always be with you?¡± She nodded her head. ¡°That was a promise and I keep my promises. That means I can¡¯t go to hell. Now, stop crying and grab my wrench for me.¡± Tired of the tut-tutting and seeing her momma was well attended to by the ladies of the church, Finn decided to slip off outside and find a shade tree to sit under. It was a good day for fishing and she hoped to dig up some worms. She squatted and began her search by pulling up some grass. The dirt was cool and moist, perfect for worms Finn thought as she thrust a finger into the soil. ¡°Hey,¡± she heard someone say. She looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun to see Dylan Wilson standing with his hands in his pockets looking uncomfortable pushing a baby stroller back and forth in front of him. ¡°That yer baby?¡± she asked, wiping her hands on the front of her pants. He nodded. Finn peered into the stroller and saw a fat baby sleeping snug as a bug. She touched one cheek with her dirty finger. ¡°He¡¯s fat,¡± she said. ¡°Think the baby Jesus was this fat?¡± Dylan smiled. ¡°Maybe. Sorry to hear about yer daddy. He was always real good to me. Helped me fix my truck once when I broke down on the side of the road going to school.¡± Finn quickly lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see the tears there, and nodded her head. The two stood in silence for a moment, Dylan looking at the leaves in the tree and how the sun bounced off of them, Finn looking at the toes of her shoes thinking about how her daddy would tie them for her when she was younger and wishing they weren¡¯t squishing her toes so badly. ¡°My dad died too when I was little.¡± Finn jerked her head up to look at his face. She knew that but had forgotten. How do you forget something so awful about a person? Would people someday forget that her daddy died? She couldn¡¯t bear the thought. ¡°My daddy didn¡¯t believe in God. Did yours?¡± she asked him. He looked at her and furrowed his eyebrows together. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Never thought much about it.¡± ¡°You think my daddy went to hell? For bein¡¯ an outlaw and not believin¡¯ in God?¡± A worm crawled its way to the surface of the dirt. Finn bent, clasped it gently between two fingers and pulled it from the earth. She lay it in the palm of her hand and watched it wiggle. ¡°See that? You wanted a worm and you got one. That¡¯s your daddy.¡± ¡°You mean he¡¯s a worm?¡± Finn watched the brown tube squiggle, wide eyed. Dylan chuckled. ¡°No. I mean your daddy was watching out for you and you found what you were looking for. Now that I¡¯m a daddy myself, I know all he would want is to make your life easier, better. So he did. I¡¯m guessing he always will. He will be in the breeze that cools you on a hot day, the warmth from a fire when it¡¯s cold, the fish that always bite, and the socks that you never lose. He will be everywhere, Finn. Always looking out for you. Always with you.¡± The baby in the stroller twisted its face up and let out a scream that would give a snake goose pimples. Dylan had stopped moving the stroller and started again, shushing the baby. ¡°I wish someone was making life easier for me,¡± he mumbled before walking toward the church parking lot, shushing and cursing. Finn watched him for a few minutes then sat down under the tree. She watched the worm as it crawled around on her hand, holding it up in front of her face. Deciding to let it go back to its home and family, she put it down near the space she had found it then lied back, looking up at the sun. She closed her eyes and before long was asleep. After some time, the cool wind blew through the tree, rustling its leaves loudly and waking Finn. She shaded her face from the sun with her hand and opened one eye. A bird flew over squawking its song and Finn smiled. Maybe there was something to what Dylan had said. Maybe her daddy was in the wind and the sun and the bird¡¯s song. Maybe he would be with her always. After all, outlaws had to stick together.