to be mad at. I cant be mad at the kids because theyre just kids, although if she wasnt with child, Id turn Shannon over my knee and paddle her for not doing better when she knew better. She was raised better and churched better, too.
I wanted to ask him if he was saying Henry was raised wrong. I kept my mouth shut instead, and let him say all the things hed been fuming about on his drive over here. Hed thought up a speech, and once he said it, he might be easier to deal with.
Id like to blame Sallie for not seeing the girls condition sooner, but first-timers usually carry high, everyone knows that and my God, you know the sort of dresses Shan wears. Thats not a new thing, either. Shes been wearing those granny-go-to-meetin dresses since she was 12 and started getting her
He held his pudgy hands out in front of his chest. I nodded.
And Id like to blame you, because it seems like you skipped that talk fathers usually have with sons. As if youd know anything about raising sons, I thought. The one about how hes got a pistol in his pants and he should keep the safety on. A sob caught in his throat and he cried, My little girl is too young to be a mother!
Of course there was blame for me Harlan didnt know about. If I hadnt put Henry in a situation where he was desperate for a womans love, Shannon might not be in the fix she was in. I also could have asked if Harlan had maybe saved a little blame for himself while he was busy sharing it out. But I held quiet. Quiet never came naturally to me, but living with Arlette had given me plenty of practice.
Only I cant blame you, either, because your wife went and run off this spring, and its natural your attention would lapse at a time like that. So I went out back and chopped damn near half a cord of wood before I came over here, trying to get some of that mad out, and it must have worked. I shook your hand, didnt I?
The self-congratulation I heard in his voice made me itch to say, Unless it was rape, I think it still takes two to tango. But I just said, Yes, you did, and left it at that.
Well, that brings us to what youre going to do about it. You and that boy who sat at my table and ate the food my wife cooked for him.
Some devil-the creature that comes into a fellow, I suppose, when the Conniving Man leaves-made me say, Henry wants to marry her and give the baby a name.
Thats so God damned ridiculous I dont want to hear it. I wont say Henry doesnt have a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of-I know youve done right, Wilf, or as right as you can, but thats the best I can say. These have been fat years, and youre still only one step ahead of the bank. Where are you going to be when the years get lean again? And they always do. If you had the cash from that back hundred, then it might be different-cash cushions hard times, everyone knows that-but with Arlette gone, there they sit, like a constipated old maid on a chamberpot.
For just a moment part of me tried to consider how things would have been if I had given in to Arlette about that fucking land, as I had about so many other things. Id be living in stink, thats how it would have been. I would have had to dig out the old spring for the cows, because cows wont drink from a brook thats got blood and pigs guts floating in it.
True. But Id be living instead of just existing, Arlette would be living with me, and Henry wouldnt be the sullen, anguished, difficult boy he had turned into. The boy who had gotten his friend since childhood into a peck of trouble.
Well, what do you want to do? I asked. I doubt you made this trip with nothing in mind.
He appeared not to have heard me. He was looking out across the fields to where his new silo stood on the horizon. His face was heavy and sad, but Ive come too far and written too much to lie; that expression did not move me much. 1922 had been the worst year of my life, one where Id turned into a man I no longer knew, and Harlan Cotterie was just another washout on a rocky and
I wanted to ask him if he was saying Henry was raised wrong. I kept my mouth shut instead, and let him say all the things hed been fuming about on his drive over here. Hed thought up a speech, and once he said it, he might be easier to deal with.
Id like to blame Sallie for not seeing the girls condition sooner, but first-timers usually carry high, everyone knows that and my God, you know the sort of dresses Shan wears. Thats not a new thing, either. Shes been wearing those granny-go-to-meetin dresses since she was 12 and started getting her
He held his pudgy hands out in front of his chest. I nodded.
And Id like to blame you, because it seems like you skipped that talk fathers usually have with sons. As if youd know anything about raising sons, I thought. The one about how hes got a pistol in his pants and he should keep the safety on. A sob caught in his throat and he cried, My little girl is too young to be a mother!
Of course there was blame for me Harlan didnt know about. If I hadnt put Henry in a situation where he was desperate for a womans love, Shannon might not be in the fix she was in. I also could have asked if Harlan had maybe saved a little blame for himself while he was busy sharing it out. But I held quiet. Quiet never came naturally to me, but living with Arlette had given me plenty of practice.
Only I cant blame you, either, because your wife went and run off this spring, and its natural your attention would lapse at a time like that. So I went out back and chopped damn near half a cord of wood before I came over here, trying to get some of that mad out, and it must have worked. I shook your hand, didnt I?
The self-congratulation I heard in his voice made me itch to say, Unless it was rape, I think it still takes two to tango. But I just said, Yes, you did, and left it at that.
Well, that brings us to what youre going to do about it. You and that boy who sat at my table and ate the food my wife cooked for him.
Some devil-the creature that comes into a fellow, I suppose, when the Conniving Man leaves-made me say, Henry wants to marry her and give the baby a name.
Thats so God damned ridiculous I dont want to hear it. I wont say Henry doesnt have a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of-I know youve done right, Wilf, or as right as you can, but thats the best I can say. These have been fat years, and youre still only one step ahead of the bank. Where are you going to be when the years get lean again? And they always do. If you had the cash from that back hundred, then it might be different-cash cushions hard times, everyone knows that-but with Arlette gone, there they sit, like a constipated old maid on a chamberpot.
For just a moment part of me tried to consider how things would have been if I had given in to Arlette about that fucking land, as I had about so many other things. Id be living in stink, thats how it would have been. I would have had to dig out the old spring for the cows, because cows wont drink from a brook thats got blood and pigs guts floating in it.
True. But Id be living instead of just existing, Arlette would be living with me, and Henry wouldnt be the sullen, anguished, difficult boy he had turned into. The boy who had gotten his friend since childhood into a peck of trouble.
Well, what do you want to do? I asked. I doubt you made this trip with nothing in mind.
He appeared not to have heard me. He was looking out across the fields to where his new silo stood on the horizon. His face was heavy and sad, but Ive come too far and written too much to lie; that expression did not move me much. 1922 had been the worst year of my life, one where Id turned into a man I no longer knew, and Harlan Cotterie was just another washout on a rocky and
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