35

 

       LORRAINE

 

    The ground crumbles in my hands.  Too dry.  He could have done a better job of breaking up these clods.  Think he's never used a hoe.  But then again, there are more important things.  I can break up my own clumps of dirt, I guess.  I guess that's what he thinks.  At least there aren't  very many rocks.

    If I have to listen to that hammer for much longer, I think I'll go crazy.  It's like he doesn't think about anything else.  It's just a house.  First it's skip church a few times, then it's cancel shopping trips I planned for weeks, and then it's take off whole weeks of work at a time.  It's just a house, for Pete's sake!  He never stops.  Crack, crack, crack.  I hear it in my sleep, I swear I do!

    It's just too dry.  When I slap my hands together, the dust just flies for fair.  Tomatoes can't take too much of this.  Have to be watered.  The corn'll never have a chance to get started at this rate.  The birds won't even be able to rob me of my garden this year.  You'd think it would rain.

    He sits there, his back to me, listening to the hammering even though he can't hear it, remembering the sound to himself.  He looks so little under that old dead tree.  I don't know how I could have ever been afraid of him, how I could have feared just the look on his face that said, You're lying to me, girl.  I know you're lying to me.  I used to be so afraid of that look I'd feel like I was going to wet my pants even if I hadn't done anything.  I remember that, but this isn't the same man.  This man is just another child for me to take care of, just another face to wipe.

    The birds swoop by his head, but he never moves.  Sometimes I think he's dead, but instead of running over and trying to rouse him or crying like you might see in a movie, I just sit and look at him and feel nothing at all.  I just sit there and feel the little bit of guilt that comes of feeling nothing else, and then even that goes and I'm left with the questions of what do you do when you find out that someone's dead.  Do you call the police?  A doctor?  I don't know.  Elvira was here when Momma died, and I just came in like a stranger and looked at her as a stranger would look at her.  And the other time Art          took care of          things.

    Art?

    The hammering goes on, so I have to get up and slap the dust from my gloves.  The sun glints off the shiny stuff he's nailed up and blinds me as I walk closer.

    Art?

    Huh?  What?

    Can you get the hose out for me?  The plants are too dry.  We need rain.

    Now why would you even say that?  The drier it stays, the better I like it.  I can't believe how lucky I've been.

    Well, it doesn't do my garden any good.

    Yeah.

    You know, some of us have things to do other than come up here and hammer.  Some of us don't just live to drive other people crazy.  It may be hard for you to believe but

    Doug had the hose out the other weekend.  Washed the dog.  It ought to be in the woodshed.

    Well, would you mind getting it?  If it wouldn't be too much

    Okay.  I'll get it.

    trouble!  I swear

    I said okay.  He steps down from the little step-stool and smiles in that long-suffering way he has.  I swear if he cultivated a garden like he does that look.  It says, Yes dear! in the way that you see henpecked husbands on television say it, but he never says it.  Instead, he has his look.  How's your plants?

    Dry.

    I figured that.  Other than that.

    Well, you could have put in a little more time with the hoe.

    Why is it you never need any help and the vegetables are always from your garden, but it's my back that gets sore?

    Your back doesn't keep you from coming up here day in and day out.

    No, it doesn't.

    No, it doesn't!

    You know, you could have Eric do that for you.  He could do a lot of things.  Especially since I'm doing something besides work this summer.

    Instead of work.

    Okay, if you want to start that again, it's okay with me.  Instead of work, then.  But he could be up here.

    He's in school.  It is a weekday, or did you forget?

    You know what I mean!  He could just help more.

    I need the hose now.

    Okay.  I'll get your hose now.  He steps outside and goes to the woodshed, comes out with the hose, screws it to the nozzle and drops the coils beside the garden.  When he is close again, he looks at me, Okay?

    I nod.

    Okay.

    Is that my step-stool from the kitchen?

    Yes.

    I just look at him.

    I needed something to stand on.

    Look at it.  It's filthy.  You don't step up on it like that.

    Then why's it a step-stool?  What else do you have it for?

    Did you ever see me get up on it in my shoes?  Did you?  Look at it!  It's all

    I'll buy you a new step-stool.  I needed something to stand on.

    You don't have a stepladder?  I saved those stamps for

    I said I'd buy you a new one!

    That's not the point!

    It's not?  I thought that was the point.  I thought that's what you said.

    You just took it!  My step-stool!  You and your damn hammering!

    We just stand there, looking at each other in that little space that the word made.  It's too late to act like it wasn't said or that he didn't hear it, but it's too quick to have something to say to cover over the silence that it's made.  We just look at each other.  He takes some nails from the apron around his waist and puts them between his lips.

    I'll bring the stepladder up here tomorrow, he says around the nails.

    All right.  I don't know what to say.

    And about that dog          you tell him I said no and I mean no.  I'm not up here fixing this place up so's he can bring that old dog in the house.  It's been out there on the chain all it's life.

    What are you fixing it up for?

    Just tell him what I said.

    He turns his back and goes back to hammering.  I turn to leave.

    I might just move that doghouse further away.

    Now, why would you even think of that?

    I can't see his face but I know he's smiling.

    That's it, isn't it?

    What?

    That's why you're doing all this, isn't it?  You just like the idea of tormenting.

    Tormenting?

    I hear myself laugh, Don't try that with me.  I know.  You think you're getting back for something.  At him, at me, whoever.

    Is that what you think?

    Yes, that's what I think.

    Okay.

    That's right, isn't it?

    It's what you think.

    I just stare at his back.  Before I know what's happening, I feel a shiver.  I start to walk away, to go back to the garden. 

    You remember to tell him.