Everything’s Going Great Guns
Maybe this will be a series of fiction. Maybe it won’t. But, this story begins with the fictional post, Expecting the Unexpected. Click here to begin at the beginning. And, thank you. Of all the hundreds of thousands of existing options for entertaining blog reading, I am honored you stopped here and chose me.
It’s too early to be clattering along in the back of this stupid truck. The big clock on the mantle struck 3am right when I closed the back door with a thud. No sense trying to be quiet. My sisters and my momma are awake, scurrying around making her room all pretty for when we bring her home.
Or, rescue her, Dad keeps shouting from the window of the cab. We’ve got to rescue her! I don’t understand why somebody has to be rescued from marriage, but I’m only twelve. I just thank everything I was deemed too young to be in the wedding. Wearing all that finery would’ve made me sweat and squirm and count the seconds until it was over. She likes finery. Maybe that’s why she married him, to have lots of finery. I don’t know why anybody wants to get hitched in the first place, but the whole finery thing seems like a dumb reason to me.
Dad is swerving all over the road, making me fight to stay in position in the bed of the truck. He’s drunker than usual, but I can’t say as I blame him. This whole marital mess with my sister would cause a tee-totaler to thrash through three counties to find a still. I feel warm inside from the several big swigs I took from the jug under the kitchen sink before we peeled off. Dad offered. It’s not like he would let me say no.
It’s hard to study the sky when Dad’s doing his inebriated swerve all over the road, but it’s real pretty. Like the bottom of a pit mashed up with twinkle lights and shards of glass. I wonder if my sister can see them from wherever he’s put her to keep her from leaving him. Maintaining my position up against the back window isn’t easy when Dad keeps yelling and swerving and yelling some more. He’s too worked up. Code for drunk. He should’ve let me drive. I’d get us there without the added drama.
I’m cold. And sleepy. I’ve got school tomorrow, and I know I’m gonna be up all night long. Rescuing her. Going back to the home place. Getting everyone settled. Keeping Dad from killing him. I’m too little to be a take-charge kind of guy.
The old jalopy acts like the rig we use to plough the back field, making ditches in the dirt in front of her place. My head knocks the freezing window glass as we make a trough in the earth to their front door. Headlights illumine the entry and bank of windows. Everything is aglow.
Okay, son. Let’s move in.
I grasp the wood-and-steel in my hands and let my body fall through mist to the ground. Maybe I’ll become a man tonight.
I’m guessing that’s what I’m doing here.