Of Sea and Cloud by Jon Keller Page B

him.
    We’re people, Jonah. We all fall in love and it might be with a rose or a pile of bait. Laura changed things for Osmond while she was around, but then she died and their daughter died. Osmond went off the deep end. Your old man was probably the only one who knew Osmond for sure.
    Jonah wanted a drink and he looked at the bottle between Virgil’s legs but didn’t want to reach for it. He looked out the window.
    You want a bubble? Virgil said and handed the bottle to him. Jonah tipped it back and swallowed the thick coffee syrup.
    I don’t know how you drink so much of that shit.
    Like a gorilla, said Virgil. He pulled into Jonah’s dooryard and stopped the truck and they sat silent for a long moment. Then Virgil spoke. His voice was hushed. I don’t like this, Jonah.
    What?
    Virgil swallowed. The Coast Guard finds Nic’s boat out past Spencer Ledges, but no Nic anywhere. Not tangled in some trap warp or floating or nothing. Then Osmond sets gear on the Leviathan? He thinks he can do that? He really thinks he can do that to us? I don’t like this.
    Yeah, Jonah said. His voice was noncommittal and Virgil didn’t appear to have heard him.
    I don’t trust Osmond, Jonah. Something’s not right. Something doesn’t add up. Virgil took a deep breath and squeezed the steering wheel with both hands as he released the breath. Anyway, supper’ll be on if you got nothing for dinner.
    I’m just having a sandwich and going to bed I think, Virgil. Thanks anyway.
    Jonah opened the door and climbed out but before he shut the door Virgil stopped him. Jonah, he said and turned his face so their eyes met. You did good today. Got me? The hell with Osmond Randolph.

Erma Lee was standing on the couch when Bill opened the door. She wore a tight pair of jeans and a pink sweater. She held a hammer in one hand and a nail in the other and she pounded the nail into the Sheetrock and missed. Half-moons speckled the wall. Sheetrock dust lay scattered across the couch cushions.
    The room was different than it had been that morning. Pictures of her parents and grandparents and cousins and friends hung on the wall. All of the pictures were framed and most of the shots were posed with blue or gray backdrops.
    By Jesus, Erma Lee. What’re you doing?
    Don’t talk like that to me. She walked across the cushions with her feet in pink ankle socks and stood on the armrest and said, Catch me. She jumped and he caught her and with her came the smell that he loved. It was her hair or her skin, he didn’t know which. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and wrapped her mouth over his earlobe and he felt a shiver in his side as she softly bit down.
    He carried her across the room and put his lunchbox on the counter and glimpsed the pictures covering the refrigerator and the ornaments on the windowsill and the line of stuffed animals on top of the cabinets. She still had his earlobe in her mouth.
    You been busy, he said.
    I’m getting busier, Captain.
    Seems so. He rested his hands on her waist and pushed softly but she didn’t budge.
    I’m a monkey.
    You ain’t a monkey, he said. He pushed harder. You know I hate monkeys.
    You don’t either, Bill. She kissed down his neck and around his jawline.
    Down to Argentina they got guided monkey hunts.
    No they don’t either. You can’t kill no monkey, Bill.
    They got monkeys all round the equator. I’d like just to beat one once.
    Argentina ain’t the equator, and you can’t beat no monkey, Bill. They’re too cute.
    They got bald asses.
    That’s a baboon with a bald ass.
    I hate them too. He sat down on the couch with her on his lap and she leaned back so they could look at each other. What’s that smell?
    That smell is dinner.
    What is it?
    Erma Lee was small and her weight on his thighs was barely noticeable.
    It’s casserole, she said.
    We just had casserole.
    And we didn’t finish it, so