The Qualities of Wood by Mary Vensel White Page B

years out on his own. She didn’t know then that these ups and downs were the normal circumstance of his life. In the past six years since Vivian met Nowell, Lonnie had moved back home twice, changed jobs at least six or seven times, and more recently, married on impulse. The last time they saw him was at Beverly’s house, over a year ago.
    They were having a weekend visit. Lonnie arrived unexpectedly at six a.m. He threw open the door to the guest room and woke them up, threatening to cannonball onto the bed between them.
    â€˜Don’t do it,’ Nowell warned.
    â€˜Alright, but get up already. Me and Ma have been awake for hours.’
    â€˜When did you get here?’
    â€˜Around three.’ Lonnie stood in the doorway, filling it almost, his face spread into a wide, expectant grin.
    Nowell rubbed his eyes. ‘Why aren’t you sleeping?’
    â€˜Come on, you know it’s not my nature to be tired.’
    Nowell laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’
    â€˜Hey, Number One, I think your wife is dead. Vivian? How can you sleep like that, so straight? You look like a corpse.’
    â€˜Very easily when people aren’t yelling,’ she told him.
    â€˜Right.’ He put his finger over his lips and backed up. Nowell threw his pillow, barely missing Lonnie as he closed the door.
    They played Hearts that day, the two brothers against Vivian and Beverly. Vivian and Nowell had a policy not to play cards as a team if they could help it. They each had different reasons: Nowell because he thought her playing inferior and Vivian because she didn’t want him bullying her. They both said it was to prevent arguments, which was, generally speaking, the truth. In the afternoon, the brothers went out for a while and Vivian and Beverly watched a movie on television then started making dinner.
    Lonnie and Nowell returned after six-thirty, high-spirited and smelling of liquor.
    â€˜Hitting the bars so early?’ Beverly asked.
    Nowell smiled. ‘They’re open all day.’
    â€˜Looks like you both could use some dinner.’ She pointed to the table and said, ‘Sit.’
    As they ate, Vivian and Beverly couldn’t help being influenced by their good humor. Nowell told a story about the skinny kid who broke Lonnie’s collarbone when he was twelve. The crux of the story was amazement that such a small boy could have done injury to the mighty Lonnie, who was stocky and tall even then. Nowell described the boy to them as mere skin and bones, a wiry nine-year-old who collided with Lonnie during a game of street baseball. ‘He rounded second and ran smack into him at shortstop.’ He turned to Lonnie. ‘He got a home run off your team, didn’t he?’
    â€˜How would I know?’
    â€˜You know, you just don’t want to remember.’
    They laughed for some time at Lonnie’s unease, expecting a reciprocal story from him, an attempt to embarrass Nowell. But he just grinned. It wasn’t until Nowell fell asleep early and Beverly turned in as well that Lonnie’s mood began to darken. He said he was going to visit an old friend. Vivian suspected that he returned to the bar. When he got back, she was watching television in the darkened living room. Nowell and his mother had gone to bed.
    Lonnie sat on the couch and kicked his shoes onto the floor. ‘What are you watching?’
    â€˜Some old movie. How was your friend?’
    â€˜Fine, everything’s fine.’ His eyes were watery in the greenish light of the television, his face blurred in the dimness.
    â€˜That’s good.’
    â€˜Nowell’s a good guy,’ Lonnie said.
    â€˜What?’ She glanced at him, noticed his intent look.
    â€˜He’s smart and talented, Dad always said.’
    â€˜Hey, Lonnie, I was going to make some coffee. Do you want some?’ She got up from her armchair and started to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the