sat with his brother-in-law Delbert and brother-in-law Samuel, and a new in-law, Manley, freshly married to Dorcus, Delbert and Sis’s daughter. Not being able to remember all the names was a problem for most of the adults, except for Sis. People who needed a name went to Aunt Sis.
Samuel and Linda and their three children — Carson was the youngest — had driven up from Garden Springs, Florida, where they worked for a rich man, running one of his orange groves. But Linda was asleep in the back bedroom. She was Dorie’s sister. She often looked weak and pale, especially after the long auto journey up from Florida. Samuel had said the illness was God’s will. He spoke of Job.
Jack normally did not sit with Samuel for the meal, because of grudges, some forgotten, but today Jack had missed the biscuits somehow, and while he was gone back to the kitchen for a couple of minutes, Samuel sat down at the card table across from Jack’s seat.
When Jack came back, Samuel kept his seat anyway.
“Do you go to church?” Jack, chewing a bite of biscuit, asked Manley, the newlywed.
“I go with Dorcus, yeah. I’ll be going with her.”
“Well, did I ever tell you about my dog’s Bible?”
“No sir.”
Samuel stood. “I’ve heard all this before.” He placed his silverware on his plate, looked around for a seat, picked up his glass of tea.
“Aw, sit down, Sam,” said Jack.
“Samuel,” said Samuel.
“Sit down,” said Delbert.
“Samuel,” said Jack. “Excuse me. Sit down. Get the corncob out your ass.” Then he said to a boy at the next table, “Could you pass me that chicken one more time? I meant to get a wing. And you-all eat some of that rabbit stew in there on the stove. I made it.”
“I just don’t care to hear about Trixie’s Bible again,” said Samuel. “No thank you.” He moved away.
Jack looked at Samuel’s back, then turned to Manley. “Trixie, my dog, has got this Bible. It’s got two verses. One: ‘There ain’t no magic and never was.’ Number two: ‘Nobody can see into the future.’ A dog wrote it over five thousand years ago, and it cuts through a lot of” — he whispered — “shit.” He took a swig of ice tea. “How do you like it so far?” he asked Manley.
“What — married life?”
“No. The family.”
“It’s all right. It’s good. I think it’s good you-all took in the boy. And Aunt Ruth, the girl.”
That afternoon Uncle Jack, Aunt Dorie, Caroline, the baby Henry, and Trixie got to the pond first — for swimming. A pasture lay between the house and the pond. At one end of the pond was the dam with a diving board, and at the other, a grassy bank where people rested on towels and in lawn chairs near the main wading place. Pine trees bordered the back side of the pond.
Caroline sat on the grass on a white towel and watched Uncle Jack stand at the edge of the pond in his swimsuit and unbuttoned shirt and shoes without socks. He chewed a plug of tobacco. He pulled a cigarillo from his shirt pocket — the shirttail out. He looked at it, put it in his mouth, lit it, and then went back to chewing — not like an average man would chew tobacco, but nervously, rapidly. Caroline had seen him stand like this at the pond every year after the reunion dinner, while everybody waited for an hour after eating so they wouldn’t have a stomach cramp and drown. Her daddy would do the same thing back before he got hit by the piece of timber — he would stand there with Uncle Jack. But he didn’t chew. And he wouldn’t go into the water. He’d just talk to Uncle Jack while they stood there, and then Uncle Jack, after the hour was up, would walk slowly into the water. Sometimes Caroline’s mother had been sick and hadn’t been able to come to the family reunion. But her daddy always did.
Aunt Dorie sat on a towel with the baby, Henry.
The cigarillo hung in Uncle Jack’s mouth, with him taking puffs and chewing at the same time, and then he kicked his shoes off,
Christina Escue
Charles Bukowski, David Stephen Calonne
Monique Snyman
Zoe Chant
Douglas Preston
Bill Pronzini
Kayden McLeod
Cesya Cuono
Robin Jarvis
Ella Price