Darlene

Life on the farm.

I walk through the door and see Darlene on the couch, feigning sleep.

We both are fakes--she doesn’t pay her rent; I pretend not to notice. I hate her guts; she pretends not to notice.

We have it in common.

I head for the kitchen because string beans need cutting up. I dump them into a collider and run the tap. A tiny worm with a head like a shotgun pellet is on a bean, crawling, so I poke it in half and watch the pieces dance together.

Darlene wants me to look at her the way my old man, Lester, did before she gave him a heart attack.

But I don’t care about her a*s. 

Half of the worm stops dancing. The other piece peters out.

I want Darlene to go away like Rufus did. The old cur died with style, one piece at a time. When there was nothing left, he took himself to the coyote holes, and they put him out of his misery.

If Maxwell was here, he’d give Darlene a choice, go to the holes or take a bus out.

I'd tell Darlene myself, but I’m just a shitkicker with crooked teeth.

The wind loaded up on the foothills an hour ago, and now it’s here, kicking the hell out of everything.

I go outside to keep the barn doors from slamming. On my way back, the wind blows my hat off. I peel it off a wind fence and pull it back on.

Darlene is at a sink window lighting a cigarette.

***

Two years ago, Lester took a chance on alfalfa. He’d worked day labor jobs and put enough together for the seed.  He said we could get three cutting off it, then make it through winter on the profit. I fixed the center pivot and cleared the ditch to the reservoir. I told Lester that one of the culverts looked bad, and the corrugated pipe had rust. He wanted to roll the dice. We drilled the seed. It was up two inches when the culvert blew open. Two days later, the alfalfa sprouts keeled over. After that, Lester couldn’t afford his heart medication. I told Lester he might as well sell off Maxwell’s arrowhead collection, but Lester said It’d be a cold day in hell before he’d do it. He put Maxwell’s room up for rent instead and that’s when Darlene showed up.

***

I grab my pool cue and my keys. Darlene has her glassy eyes fixed on a game show. Her slip has smudges. The cigarette has a lipstick filter. I glare at her. I want her to know what I think. I want her to know how I resent what she did to Lester.

She smiles at me like she already knows. And then she tugs one of her slip straps down and studies my eyes.

I’m not going to fall for it.

But my eyes drop, and it’s hard to get them back. I can’t get them back. I can’t stop thinking about Maxwell.

I’d popped the clutch on our tractor. He’d tumbled off the fender and disappeared under the cultipacker.