“Here, I want you to have a key to my car.” Dan tossed the newly cut key down
on the island countertop in front of Rick.
“Why?”
“Why not? If you ever need my car and I ain’t around, I want you to be able to use it.”
“Okay...thanks.” Rick took his wallet out of his back pocket to put the key in. If he put it in his wallet, he was much less likely to lose it. The wallet was an ancient wad of cracked leather, bulging with photographs and held together with two rubberbands.
“That thing looks like it went through the war.” Dan said.
“It did.”
”I got some wallets I don’t use anymore, better looking than that one. Let me get one for you.”
“Oh, no thanks Dan. This one is as good as anything. It’s lasted a long time.”
“Yeah, and if it gets wet, it’ll disintegrate. They’re just sitting up in a box in my closet. Let me get you one.” He went up to his room and came back with a shoe box full of nearly new wallets. Rick had never asked, but never stopped wondering, why Dan had so many repeats of so many possessions. He picked a wallet with a snap coin pocket.
“Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Rick transferred the contents of his old wallet into the new one. As he exchanged the photographs, a ring fell out. It bounced and rolled, then spun to a stop in front of Dan who picked it up. It was a plain gold band.
“You getting married?”
“No.” Rick held his hand out for the ring. Dan gave it back to him and Rick put it into the snap pocket of his wallet, and put his wallet into his back pocket.
The altar wasn’t decorated in any special way. The flowers at the base of the portrait of Our Lady of Czestahowa were the ones placed there regularly by the Sisters. The guests were limited to immediate family on both sides. Rick held Sandra’s hand for reassurance.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Rick turned to lift Sandra’s veil, and shot her in the face.
Putting a chunk of fire wood into the woodstove, Rick remarked: “Aunt Marie
said we’ll be getting another load of wood tomorrow.”
“Probably the last delivery we’ll need till Fall.” Dan said. “How would you feel about stacking the next load in the basement instead of under the deck?”
“Why?” It came out a little sharp.
“So it don’t get wet. So we don’t got to go outside to get it at night when it’s dark. So the space under the deck looks neater...”
Rick took a long time to answer. He seemed to be running something over in his mind. “Allright, I guess.”
When the wood was dumped the next day, they carried it by armfuls into the
basement through the garage door. Rick almost couldn’t wait to dump his stack and head
back outside so it ended up that Rick dumped, Dan stacked. When they were done, Rick
went to the front door to get back in the house and didn’t go up the basement stairs. He
came in the door, just as Dan came through the basement door.
“You know, there’s nothing down there.” He said. Rick was not happy to have his fear pointed out to him.
“I don’t like being down there, it’s creepy. It’s dark.”
“I’ve been in the darkness Rick, there’s nothing there.”
“I’m heading back over to start milking -" Rick evaded. " - I’ll get some lunch with Aunt Marie...”
And for not the first time, Dan wondered what point he’d touched that was so sore.
Rick headed down Sullivan Road, making a long diagonal across the blacktop,
staring at his feet, counting his steps. He had to stop it. He had to make it not start again.
If he could just get his mind somewhere else...
“Sandra...”
...twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four steps it took from the pothole to the broken fence post...
“...I found the car keys...”
...from the broken fence post to the old wagon wheel nobody ever got around to throwing out...
“...we can be to the hospital in seventeen minutes...”
...and Sandra came out of the bedroom and Rick shot her in the face...
Dan watched Rick walk away, with no jacket, staring at the ground. If a car drove
down the street, he probably wouldn’t even see it. Dan had just turned away when
something caught his eye - Rick had fallen to his knees in the road. Maybe he tripped on
the pothole. When he didn’t get back up, but put his hands to his head, Dan shot out of
the house and down to his friend.
“Hey - this is no time for prayer. Are you okay?”
“Yeah - I just got dizzy is all...” It had stopped, but it reverberated.
“Get up slow...” Dan gave him a hand. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No...just feel stupid...I’m okay...”
“You want to go back to the schoolhouse, get some aspirin or something?”
“No, thanks. I’m just going to head to work.” Rick brushed at his jeans and didn’t look at Dan.
“Okay, I’ll be right along.” And Dan watched him, turning back every few steps as he went back to lock up the schoolhouse. Rick walked with his head down.
...twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight...
“Maybe you’re coming down with something.” Dan said. They were at the back of
the farm, in the field furthest from Sullivan Road. Rick was getting ready to plant corn.
“I’m fine, I told you, it was just a dizzy spell. I’m all better now.”
Dan wasn’t convinced. “I ain’t sure I like the idea of you piloting this baby -” - he pointed over his shoulder to the tractor that stood taller than his head - “- when you got dizzy spells. Maybe you should see a doctor.”
Rick climbed up into the tractor. “I’ve already been to one, a few years ago.”
“And what did he say it was?”
“Nothing. Stress. Said it would go away.” Rick settled into the big machine and revved it up. Dan didn’t look happy. Over the rumble of the engine, Rick called “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” And Dan pointed 'You better be’ at him.
Three days later, Dan was with Mr. Ward in the milking parlor. They were done
and as the last cow walked out of the barn, swishing her tail as though she had just done
the farmers a favor, Dan asked:
“Did Rick ever miss a day? He ever get sick?”
Mr. Ward didn’t even have to think about it. “No. He gets bad colds and his Aunt will fuss at him till he makes himself scarce...is he sick today?”
“Not today. The other day though, he got this dizzy spell. It really wiped him out in the morning, but he was better by the end of the day.”
“He used to get those a lot when he first came to work for us. I dIdn’t think he still got them. Is he allright now?”
“Yeah, fine, perfect. I’se just worried about him.”
“How are you doing Mr. Barnes? You’ve been with us three months now? Is Mr. Connally taking care of you?”
“Oh yeah, just great...”
Dan repeated that part of the conversation to Rick over dinner. “Take care of you?
All I do is split the cost of groceries and dry the dishes.”
“You let me do your laundry for you too...’sides, if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have got the job.”
“How did I help you get this job?”
“When Mr. Ward interviewed me, besides the fact that I work cheap, I didn’t have much to recommend me in the way of skill. But he said he’d give me a chance because I really needed the job and he said he got a man working for him could show even a guy like me the ropes.”
Rick took a minute to absorb the compliment. They never came head-on from Mr. Ward, you had to work them out yourself. “How come you ‘really needed’ this job? What happened to all those other jobs?”
“I don’t know.” Dan said and meant it. “Something always seemed to happen and I’d leave.” He shrugged.
“Why this job?”
“It came with a place to live.”
“Wouldn’t your family help if you needed a place to live?”
“My family? Yeah, they would. I just didn’t want to ask them.”
“I know how that is.” Rick said.
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Chapter Five
Chapter Seven
