to explain because she disliked her generally patronizing attitude.
On the drive home Frank mused aloud that though he loved Montana because it felt like the 1950s it could be a little difficult for a young person to get ready for the real world unless they were going to stay in Montana. Then he mentioned that a woman was coming to visit him and said he hoped Sarah wouldnât mind. Of course she minded but why say so? One more discordant item in her mental stew pot would scarcely help but then right now in her fatherâs truck she was rehearsing the venison meat loaf she was cooking for dinner. Marcia was coming over for dinner to make last-minute plans for the antelope-hunting trip. Sarahâs feeling of hollowness had entered her head and looking at her father she wondered if he had those empty cold spaces in his mind full of metallic question marks or was his mind full and smooth?
The woman was there when they arrived. She was standing in a business suit looking in the door of the greenhouse. Her dad had said her name was Lolly and she was a third cousin by marriage, of Italian parentage, and in the truck-farm business. She had flown into Missoula and rented a car and Sarah noted she was clearly pissed off tiptoeing through the muddy yard on rather short legs. Lolly and her father passionately embraced and Sarah felt oddly pleased for him. He and Peppy had often been at odds but she knew that hadnât included their sexuality from the night noises.
When they were introduced Lolly gave Sarah the hyperappraising look a shorter person often gives to a taller but she was smiling. Frank poured himself and Lolly drinks and they disappeared into the bedroom.
While putting baking potatoes in the oven and mixing the venison meat loaf Sarah was thinking about how puzzled Wallace Stevensâs poems made her feel but then the feeling of solution always gave her something to think about that she had never thought of before. At that point she recalled a troublesome dream from the night before just as it occurred to her that she had to keep expanding her life so that her trauma would grow smaller and smaller. In the dream she was teaching the handsome Mexican cowboy who had trailered the horse up to Lahrenâs ranch how to ride. She caught him as he got off and he slid roughly down her body. It was a good feeling in the dream but when she half-awoke she was close to nausea. She had turned on the light and read a Hart Crane poem that sounded good but was incomprehensible. Terry had told her that Hart Crane had committed suicide, an option that she thought about herself, but then Tim had asked her if she ever had a baby to call it Tim even if it was a girl.
The dinner didnât go so well for an absurd reason. Lolly said the stewed tomatoes were âwonderfulâ because Sarah used fresh thyme and plenty of garlic but then Lolly thought the beef in the meat loaf tasted âpeculiar.â Sarah told her it was ground venison plus one-third pork and Lolly rushed to the toilet and spit it up. Marcia laughed loudly and Sarah frowned at her. Lolly came back to the table with tears in her eyes and apologized because Bambi was her favorite childhood book and movie. Marcia continued to giggle and ate like a horse. She was a big girl and did the work of a man. Except for the ritual of Sunday dinner their meals were ample and hurried. Marcia was talking about waking up at dawn and seeing a coyote out in the pasture chasing after a ewe with a bad leg.
âI somersaulted that son of a bitch with my .280 right out my bedroom window,â Marcia said.
Frank explained what she had said to Lolly who said, âOh my goodness.â
To give her father privacy the girls drove up to Timâs cabin and started a fire in the woodstove. Sarah had drained the pipes for winter but still used the cabin for general solace. She would talk to Tim as if he were in the kitchen making the chicken-fried steaks she loved.
In the last
On the drive home Frank mused aloud that though he loved Montana because it felt like the 1950s it could be a little difficult for a young person to get ready for the real world unless they were going to stay in Montana. Then he mentioned that a woman was coming to visit him and said he hoped Sarah wouldnât mind. Of course she minded but why say so? One more discordant item in her mental stew pot would scarcely help but then right now in her fatherâs truck she was rehearsing the venison meat loaf she was cooking for dinner. Marcia was coming over for dinner to make last-minute plans for the antelope-hunting trip. Sarahâs feeling of hollowness had entered her head and looking at her father she wondered if he had those empty cold spaces in his mind full of metallic question marks or was his mind full and smooth?
The woman was there when they arrived. She was standing in a business suit looking in the door of the greenhouse. Her dad had said her name was Lolly and she was a third cousin by marriage, of Italian parentage, and in the truck-farm business. She had flown into Missoula and rented a car and Sarah noted she was clearly pissed off tiptoeing through the muddy yard on rather short legs. Lolly and her father passionately embraced and Sarah felt oddly pleased for him. He and Peppy had often been at odds but she knew that hadnât included their sexuality from the night noises.
When they were introduced Lolly gave Sarah the hyperappraising look a shorter person often gives to a taller but she was smiling. Frank poured himself and Lolly drinks and they disappeared into the bedroom.
While putting baking potatoes in the oven and mixing the venison meat loaf Sarah was thinking about how puzzled Wallace Stevensâs poems made her feel but then the feeling of solution always gave her something to think about that she had never thought of before. At that point she recalled a troublesome dream from the night before just as it occurred to her that she had to keep expanding her life so that her trauma would grow smaller and smaller. In the dream she was teaching the handsome Mexican cowboy who had trailered the horse up to Lahrenâs ranch how to ride. She caught him as he got off and he slid roughly down her body. It was a good feeling in the dream but when she half-awoke she was close to nausea. She had turned on the light and read a Hart Crane poem that sounded good but was incomprehensible. Terry had told her that Hart Crane had committed suicide, an option that she thought about herself, but then Tim had asked her if she ever had a baby to call it Tim even if it was a girl.
The dinner didnât go so well for an absurd reason. Lolly said the stewed tomatoes were âwonderfulâ because Sarah used fresh thyme and plenty of garlic but then Lolly thought the beef in the meat loaf tasted âpeculiar.â Sarah told her it was ground venison plus one-third pork and Lolly rushed to the toilet and spit it up. Marcia laughed loudly and Sarah frowned at her. Lolly came back to the table with tears in her eyes and apologized because Bambi was her favorite childhood book and movie. Marcia continued to giggle and ate like a horse. She was a big girl and did the work of a man. Except for the ritual of Sunday dinner their meals were ample and hurried. Marcia was talking about waking up at dawn and seeing a coyote out in the pasture chasing after a ewe with a bad leg.
âI somersaulted that son of a bitch with my .280 right out my bedroom window,â Marcia said.
Frank explained what she had said to Lolly who said, âOh my goodness.â
To give her father privacy the girls drove up to Timâs cabin and started a fire in the woodstove. Sarah had drained the pipes for winter but still used the cabin for general solace. She would talk to Tim as if he were in the kitchen making the chicken-fried steaks she loved.
In the last
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