This Side of Jordan by Monte Schulz Page B

crossed through the kitchen and out the back door. The screen slammed shut behind him. Alvin listened to him trotting across the yard to the trough pump. It was dark out now. Crickets sang in the bushes by the rear porch. The pump creaked as Rascal drew water from the well. Alvin stuck a forkful of eggs into his mouth and tried his best not to stare at Rose’s titties. Her knife scratched the plate as she scooped some eggs onto her fork. While the dwarf worked the pump over and over, the farm boy felt his passion coming back again.
    â€œYou come out here very often?” he asked Rose.
    â€œOnly when I need a fellow.”
    She said this without changing expression, still shoving eggs and potato into her mouth. It stabbed at Alvin’s heart. His face flushed and his own appetite faded.
    â€œYou got a girl back home?” Rose asked, setting her fork down for a moment.
    Alvin swallowed a chunk of fried potato and shook his head. The truth embarrassed him. “None in particular. How come you ask?”
    â€œMy daddy thinks I’m a whore.”
    He stopped chewing. “Is that so?”
    She leaned close, her eyes sparkling. “Do you think I’m a whore?”
    What was he supposed to say? He shrugged. “How should I know?”
    â€œWhen we met back in my daddy’s restaurant, and you first saw me, did you think to yourself, ‘She sure looks like a whore’?”
    Alvin felt his face redden deeper. Rose’s attention was fixed hard on him. He was sure he smelled Chester’s gin on her breath. “I thought you were pretty swell-looking.”
    â€œAre you jealous of Calvin?”
    â€œHuh?”
    The pump stopped outdoors and the dwarf’s footsteps scurried back through the dirt toward the house. Rose said, “Me lying down with him, instead of with you? Are you jealous?”
    Alvin shrugged. “Sort of, I guess.” Sure, he was jealous as hell, but what could he do about it? He didn’t hardly smile at her in town. Who knows what she thought of him back there?
    â€œDon’t be,” she said. “It ain’t account of you that I’m with him. It’s ’cause of my daddy. He’s scared of Calvin. The second he laid eyes on him, he told me to stay away from him.”
    Rose put down her fork and napkin.
    â€œDo you love him?” Alvin asked, afraid of her reply. If she said yes, he’d likely throw up.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œCalvin.”
    â€œOf course not. I don’t lie down with fellows I’m in love with. I don’t flirt with them, neither, though I have to say I’d rather be thought of as a whore than a flirt. But this’s got nothing to do with love. No girl with half a brain and an ounce of self-respect would consider it.”
    â€œI ain’t following you.”
    â€œThat’s ’cause you’re not a girl, and you don’t know my daddy, neither.”
    The back door opened and Rascal came inside with his tin cup in one hand and a small brown feather in the other. Quietly, he sat down at the table, took a drink from the cup, laid the feather on the side of his plate, and began eating once again. Alvin watched how the dwarf held his fork funny, twisted nearly backward in his hand, making him bring food to his mouth in a strange looping motion. The farm boy wondered who taught him that.
    Rose got up from the table and went to the back door. She opened it and tossed her leftover eggs and potatoes out into the yard. “My cooking stinks.”
    Then she laid her empty plate on the counter and walked out of the kitchen. Rascal continued eating. Alvin listened for Rose. She had gone into the bedroom. The bedsprings squeaked as she plunked herself down onto the mattress. Alvin finished his own food and got up, setting his plate on the counter next to Rose’s. The dwarf had his head down, methodically shoveling egg and potato into his mouth, one forkful after another. Alvin went