Nether Regions by Nat Burns

steady?”
    “Yeah, at Thirsty’s.”
    “He’s still there at the Thirsty Rogue. That’s good.” Clary smiled and nodded at him.
    “But that’s the thing. Why won’t he look for another job? One that doesn’t have all those young boys around? He obviously can’t resist them.”
    “Have you told him that? About the job and what it’s doing to y’all’s relationship?” Clary turned back to the sink before he could answer.
    “Oh yeah. We argue about it every few days it seems. It ain’t doing a bit of good. He likes the job.”
    “He is a good bartender, I hear,” Beulah offered. “Amos Willis told me Righteous never lets a customer go dry.”
    “I’m sure,” Stephen agreed bitterly.
    Clary turned off the faucet with an angry snap. “Give the boy some credit if you do love him. The way you say you do. What he’s doing to you is all wrong, we all know, but it’s like being hooked on booze. Something he fell into and can’t help.”
    “And we’d like to say that if he just didn’t drink, everything would be okay, like not working at Thirsty’s would fix it all,” Sophie added.
    Silence fell, populated only by the whine of the insects and whisper of the water outside. Beulah sighed once and Clary moved to sit next to them at the table. She lifted a glass of iced tea to her lips.
    Stephen sat sullen, studying the watered texture of the sweet tea in his own glass. Sophie watched him, knowing that his dignity was slipping away and that he felt powerless to prevent it.
    “Stephen?” Sophie asked.
    “Yeah.” He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I just don’t like being made a fool of, that’s all.”
    “I know,” Sophie agreed. “It’s in your power to change that. You can’t change him, you know.”
    “I know. I also know I can’t take much more. I won’t take much more.”
    Beulah turned to look at him and rolled her chair away from his side and closer to the table. She began laying silverware out next to the plates. “Whatever you decide, it’ll be all right. We’ll still feed you. That’ll never change.”
    It took a few minutes for the gravity to lift but when it did, Sophie let go a sigh of relief. Clary brought the tuna salad, the potato salad and the watermelon from the refrigerator, balancing the platters precariously until Stephen leaped to take the melon and place it on the table. Sophie brought the pitcher of mint tea and arranged the tossed salad next to the selection of dressings.
    “I’ll get the ice,” Clary muttered as she opened the freezer.
    “Nothing hot?” Stephen asked.
    “Fried chicken from Albert’s. Here, want a leg?” Beulah handed him the bowl.
    “You know I don’t like dark meat, Grandam. How long I been coming here? You should know that by now.”
    Sophie was the first to laugh, puzzling everyone. Gradually the other women got it and laughed as they settled themselves at the table. Stephen watched them, bewildered until he got the joke and blushed, stuffing bread into his mouth.
    “Dark meat. I get it,” he said, his wry expression setting the women laughing helplessly.
    Sophie leaned back in her chair and studied them. Stephen, as usual, was eating with single-minded purpose, heaping potato salad onto his plate. Grandam was picking at a golden chicken thigh, but Sophie could tell she was far away. She’d been slipping away lately and Sophie knew it was almost time for her to pass on. Her body was the only thing anchoring her here and even that was getting smaller and lighter. It was probably a matter of months and it saddened her. She’d be mighty lonely without this old woman who knew her inside and out. It would take years before someone else could catch on to all that Sophie was. Most people these days plain weren’t interested; they were moving to a faster beat that she wasn’t sure she wanted to share.
    “Can I get you anything, Sophie, honey?” Clary asked, leaning across the table and touching her hand.
    “No, no, I’m fine. You