The Devil’s Share by Wallace Stroby

killer there.”
    â€œSnowflake wouldn’t hurt anyone. She just likes to kick up a fuss. Come on in.”
    He followed her into the kitchen. She closed the door behind them, leaving the dog on the porch. It scratched at the door, barked.
    â€œShe’ll calm down after a couple minutes. Then I’ll let her back in. Sorry about that.”
    â€œThat’s okay. Sorry I got here so late.”
    The kitchen was old but clean. Peeling linoleum on the floor, an old refrigerator and gas stove. She was barefoot, wore a bathrobe over jeans and a T-shirt, was thinner than he’d last seen her. Her hair was washed-out brown, tied in back. She looked tired.
    â€œI didn’t hear you drive up,” she said.
    â€œI parked down the block. I didn’t want Arlen to know I was here. Wanted to talk to you first.”
    â€œLet me get you something to drink, then. Tea? A beer? I think there’s some left in here.”
    â€œI can’t stay long. I just want to talk to Arlen, then I have to get on the road. I’m headed back to L.A. tonight.”
    â€œLet’s sit, then, at least.” The table was Formica and aluminum tubing, at least thirty years old. He waited for her to sit, then drew out a chair for himself. She pushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes.
    â€œI told him you were on your way,” she said. “Maybe he’ll listen to you. I’ve given up.”
    â€œHe stay out there all the time?”
    â€œHasn’t been in the house in weeks. I bring him his food out there, groceries when he needs them. Beer mostly. I asked him to go back to that VA doctor, but that just sets him off. God knows what he does out there all day.”
    â€œHe ever talk to you about what’s going on, what he’s thinking?”
    â€œHe says he feels safer out there. It’s a smaller space, he can ‘control the perimeter’ better, whatever that means. I don’t know what to say when he starts talking like that. I just get upset.”
    â€œAnyone else ever come by, talk to him?”
    â€œNo. The home health aide visited once, but he wouldn’t let her in. He doesn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone. I wish there was something I could do.”
    â€œThere isn’t,” he said. “Not at this point. You’ve been taking good care of him, as far as he’ll let you. That’s all you can do.”
    â€œMaybe. But it just isn’t right, living like this. What kind of a marriage is this?”
    â€œI’m sorry. It must be rough on you.”
    She got up. “I think I’m going to have some of that tea. Sure you don’t want any?”
    â€œI’m good,” he said. The dog had stopped barking.
    She went to the stove, filled a kettle with water and set it on the burner, got the flame going beneath it.
    â€œHow many years have you known him, Randy?”
    â€œLong time.”
    â€œLonger than we’ve been married.”
    â€œI expect so.”
    â€œWas he ever like this before?”
    â€œNo, but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this kind of thing. Guys coming back from active duty, guys who saw combat. They like small spaces, quiet, environments they can control. It’s not that unusual.”
    â€œNot unusual? We’re supposed to be husband and wife, and he lives in a camper parked in the driveway. I’m surprised code enforcement hasn’t been out here yet.”
    She got a mug down from the shelf, a tea bag from a ceramic canister on the counter.
    â€œHe’s up until all hours of the night,” she said. “I see the lights on, hear the TV going. He sleeps mostly in the daytime. Maybe he feels safer then.”
    â€œHe ever seem … I’m not sure how to put this.”
    â€œWhat?” she said.
    â€œLike he’d hurt himself? Do something like that?”
    She set a hip against the counter. “I don’t think so. I mean, who knows for