Works and Days
Cowboys and Poets
Part Two
“Well, I want you to do that for yourself, Robert,” Sharon was saying.
“Go to school?”
“That or something like it,” she said. “Oh, Robert, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you and so much promise. I mean, I know it doesn’t look like that now. I think you’re really special,” Sharon was telling him while Jackie came back to the bar and said, “Enough of the Chip look-alike.”
“That’s my cousin, Ralph,” Robert said.
“Oh,” Jackie coughed, and lit a cigarette. “Well, he was too much like Chip for me.”
“Jaclyn, you complain about this man all the time. What’s Chip like?”
“Oh, Sharon, he’s not that bad.”
“Jackie,” she looked at Robert too. “Listen to me as your elder just this once. You don’t have to settle for anyone that’s not that bad. Life is too short for that. I forget that most of the time, but I’m learning it now. You need to do what makes you happy.”
“What if I don’t know what makes me happy?” Robert said.
“That’s the scary part,” Jackie said, “the not knowing.”
“Because then comes the long time of trying to figure it out,” Felice added.
“And when you see it, “Sharon said. “It might terrify you.”
“Does John terrify you, Jackie?” Patti asked, popping up behind them, perspired, hair out of whack.
“Who’s John?” Sharon asked.
“John is Jackie’s flame,” Patti tattled.
“If there’s a John why the hell is there a Chip?” Sharon demanded.
“John is Patti’s little brother,” Jackie said.
“Oh,” Robert and Sharon said, looking at each other.
“Here’s the story,” Felice interrupted. “When Thom and Patti got married, Jackie and John met each other—”
“Sixteen years ago—” said Jackie.
“And they’ve had the hots for each other ever since! They started out just liking each other, but then John got this girlfriend—”
“Kim—” Patti filled in.
“And they got married. Had three kids. Still, Jackie was holding a torch for him.”
“I was not,” Jackie colored.
“Was too. But then he and Kim got divorced.”
“And they’ve been divorced for almost two years,” said Patti.
“Well, then what the hell’s the problem!” Sharon demanded.
The four women were walking down State Street very carefully. Once or twice Patti had thought of taking off her heels, and then decided against it. Above their heads, the El thundered, flashing down fluorescent lightning.
“That was really sweet, what he told you,” Patti said. “That Robert boy.”
“He thought that God must have sent me to him. Well, who can say? I think he might be right.”
Sharon sighed and looked around the street still full of life, flashing neon signs and flashing people, marching up and down in heels.
“Sometimes I’m sure there’s a lot more of God than we see.”
Then she stopped being solemn and laughed.
Patti looked at the other woman expectantly.
“And Graham told me I couldn’t snag a man!” Sharon crowed.
“What?”
“He said, ‘Why would a young rooster go after an old hen like you?’”
“He said that to you?”
“Um hum,” Sharon chuckled over it, nodding.
“Does he say that sort of stuff all the time?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Sharon.
“I wouldn’t put up with that,” Patti shook her head, “With a man putting me down. I did for a while but... I don’t kwow Graham very well, so maybe I think of him differently. I guess you see something more than I do.”
“No,” said Sharon. “There isn’t anymore to see. But he’s right. I am a spent hen. I’m an old crow. But I’m a beautiful old crow. And what’s more, I love Graham, and if that makes any sense that sort of cancels out everything else. And then... and then... I’ve been married to him for a long time. Thirty-seven years is too long a time to call it quits.”
And then Sharon added, “So is sixteen.”
They walked on in silence for a while and, at last, Felice said, “Now Jaclyn, what street is the car on anyway?”
There was more silence as Jackie continued walking at the head of their group.
“Jaclyn?”
“It’s…” Jackie promised, “Somewhere.”
“Jackie!” lamented Felice. “Jaclyn!”
At nine o’clock sharp the door bell rang at 1421 Curtain Street. Chayne stayed upstairs, knowing it was Thom, and Russell answered.
“You are so tall, Russell!”
“I guess.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yeah,” said Russell, “Just let me get my jacket.”
Russell jabbed his thumb in the direction of the kitchen, then shouted up the stairs, “Chayne, we’re gone.”
The station wagon made its way from Curtain to Reynolds to Kirkland, and then down to Royal. They drove along the Southside, passing one single story houses with umimpressive porches and trucks on cinder blocks. Thom pointed at one house and said, “That’s where me and Jackie lived when I was your age.”
Russell looked at his father in a different way for only a second. He had never regarded his father as a hillbilly, and yet nothing else lived on Thompson Street or any of these other blocks on the outskirts of town.
The river had widened now, and on the other side of it Russell saw East Sequoia. Russell wondered if there was a West Sequoia or even a Sequoia. How had it got that name? After all, Geschichte was a German word and this town had been established by the French, long ago. It should have been Chichtaw Falls, after the river, but someone had screwed up something somewhere along the line, and here, they were approaching Chichtaw Falls for which the town had been misnamed, a place, in fact, was not in town.
The small falls dropped over rocks, into the wide black Lake Chictaw bordered by circles of high green trees.
The car braked on gravel and Thom climbed out and got the tackle from the back of the car. Russell followed his father, looking all around him and not really at his father, and at last, Thom said, “Oh, Russell. It’s beautiful out here.”
He sighed and pointed up. “Look at those birds! Geese!”
Thom’s thoughts had been the same as Russell’s and, irrationally, Russell was annoyed with his father for sharing them. And he was surprised at seeing Thom take joy in anything natural or simple. Actually, Russell had never known his father to take joy in anything.
“Here is a good place,” Thom said, pointing to a stone pier that ended in a tower of tumbled rocks.
Under the rocks there was another fisher and when they approached, Russell saw she was a woman, dark haired like his dad and smiling at them.
“It’s a beautiful day to be out here,” she said. “For all sorts of things.”
Thom tipped his cap and said, “Yes, it is ma’am.”
“Handsome and gallant,” she smiled. “Are you two brothers?”
“Well, ma’am,” Thom began, but Russell said, “Of course we’re not brothers. He’s my father.”
“Oh,” the pretty woman blinked, and Russell thought, This slut is flirting.
She said, “You two look like brothers. Well, I wouldn’t want to upset the lady who must be waiting for you.”
“There is no lady,” Thom said too quickly for Russell’s ears.
“Yup,” Russell, said, “Dear old Dad’s a divorcee.”
He wanted to add that his mother was dating someone, but even now thought that was out of place.
“Oh,” the woman stopped. Lifting a finger, she commanded them to wait. She lifted her pole from the water, and reached into her breastpocket. She took out a small notepad and pen and wrote down her number, handing it to Thom.
“Uh… Thanks,” Thom said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” the woman winked at him as Thom stuffed her number into his pocket.
Tom and Russell climbed the rocks and scrambled down the other side, to find what Thom called comfortable places. Russell was not sure if he was hot and discomfited from the woman hitting on his father or the climb up the rocks where he admitted he was actually less fit than a man who, indeed, did more resemble his brother than his dad. Carefully, patiently, Thom taught Russell how to bait his lure. Russell tried not to look so disgusted or so indifferent. Being with Thom wasn’t so bad. It was weird as hell, but it wasn’t so bad, this enforced male bonding.
After a while, when the final mist had lifted off the black water and there was nothing to be caught, Thom impulsively threw his arm around Russell and said, “It’s good to be out here with my boy.”
Russell, rigid, allowed himself to be loved, and didn’t attempt to hide his indifference, because he didn’t expect Thom to pick up on it.
Thom realized, without Russell telling him, what he wouldn’t have picked up on it three weeks ago, maybe even one week ago, or last night before he had talked with Jeff Cordiino. He looked at the miserable red headed boy and realized he didn’t know him. He had a feeling that he was not only a strange to Russell, but that he had done something to Russell, the way his father had done something to him. Thom did not credit himself with knowing much, but right now he knew Russell treated him the same way he would treat his own father if that man was here..
“Russell, what did I do?” Thom asked in a quiet voice.
Russell felt something drop into his stomach..
“Did I do anything?”
“Did you...” Russell’s voice was quiet, “do anything?”
Thom’s mouth opened a little. He dared to speak again. “Yes, Russell.”
Russell shook his head, feeling pinpricks sting his face.
“Can I count the things?” he demanded. “You and Mom are getting a divorce—”
“Russell, it’s only fair to tell you that wasn’t my choice. I didn’t decide that—”
“The hell you didn’t!” Russell shouted, afraid of his rage, but unable to stop it. “You didn’t even try to talk to Mom. You never listened. You’ve never been at home, so there’s nothing different now. And you decide you want to bond with me—now! I’m fifteen years old and you’ve never bothered with me until now. Suddenly I mean something to you this weekend?”
“Russell, that’s not true!”
And then, grasping at straws instead of understanding, he accused in return.
“And I asked to see you last week. We were supposed to get together last Sunday—”
“Last SATURDAY!” Russell roared, rising. Thom blinked up at him.
“Last Saturday I did come over, only you were busy fucking I don’t know who on the the kitchen table like some two in the morning cable porn! So that’s how much your marriage means to you! That’s how much I mean to you!”
Thom suddenly went blind. He couldn’t have stood up if he wanted to. He felt like he’d been punched, and he wanted to throw up. He was instantly covered with shame. But Russell couldn’t see that, so he continued.
“Yeah, I was there. I came, and I didn’t want to. And I don’t want to be here now! Go find that woman who was making eyes at you. You can fuck her too.”
Thom didn’t move. He just stared at Russell, but what Russell saw was someone he didn’t like very much looking at him like he was crazy, and not at all prepared to take him home. He was getting ready for Thom to laugh at him the way he laughed at Mom and say, “Don’t be silly!” but he wanted Thom to know he wasn’t being silly at all. He wanted to say everything because this chance might not come again. He wanted to say, “I hate you.” and so he did.
Thom’s handsome face hardened, and suddenly Russell, conscious of his outrageous white skin and red hair wondered—irrationally, “Why couldn’t you have at least give me your looks?”
Thom’s grip on his fishing rod tightened, and then he took it out of the water and quietly put everything in the tackle box. He moved past Russell to the station wagon. Half timid, Russell followed. They climbed the rocks and on the other side, Russell was relieved that the woman was gone. What was the man thinking? What was going on inside him. Russell got into the passenger seat. They drove in silence back to Curtain Street, Russell frozen, Thom silent until they got to Chayne’s house. Not looking at Russell, Thom leaned over his son, pushed open the car door, waited for Russell to get out. Russell did. Thom closed the door and drove off.
Before Russell turned around to go up the stairs, he put his hand over his chest to slow the rapid beating of his heart, and tried to regulate his breathing.