observed as they watched their son go.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she replied. They heard the screen door slam. “Except maybe when it’s time to take Harper to the dentist.” Harper Lee was their eight-year-old middle child and, unfortunately, her first dental experience had been painful. Thus, all subsequent visits to the dentist were like pulling teeth. The problem was so severe the Longstreets had been referred to a pediatric dentist, which is a regular dentist who charges more due to an ability to work on screaming children. They had been faced with this necessity when they discovered Harper Lee was blacklisted at every dental establishment within a fifty-mile radius. “You can’t rely on people with slim hands,” A.J. had noted upon discovering his daughter had become
a persona non grata
in the dental community.
“You’re right,” he said, back in the yard with Maggie. “Taking her to the dentist is worse. It’s your turn next time.” He laid back on the grass to watch the sunset. The sky to the west was passing from dark blue to black. A chill crept into the air.
“How could I forget?” Maggie responded, lying next to him. Together they watched the light fade over the magnolias.
Night fell, and a lone cricket warmed up. It was late in the season, and soon he would be gone. A.J. had briefly forgotten about Eugene’s short, bleak future, but now thoughts of him crept in like ghosts. A.J. wondered what Eugene was thinking now that night had descended. He silently wished him well. As if she could read his mind, Maggie spoke.
“Tell me about your visit with Eugene. Was it a social call, or did he want to accuse you of sleeping with some other member of his family?” Maggie did not generally succumb to petty commentary, but she had not cared for the misunderstanding at the barbecue and had made no secret since then of her opinion that Eugene was primarily responsible for the whole sorry affair. Not that A.J. had escaped unscathed. He had caught the rough side of her tongue over the incident and had listened in abashed silence to an hour-long monologue peppered with many a succinct observation.
But the fight was long ago, and Maggie’s anger did not last, although references to the event occasionally surfaced as instructional aids. She had even sent A.J. off with her blessing earlier in the day. Of course, she had also given him benediction to brain Eugene with the Louisville Slugger if the necessity arose.
The Longstreets lay there in the deepening darkness, and as the stars flickered into their nightly patterns, A.J. related the details of his visit. He spoke of how Eugene had looked, how he had sounded, and what he had said. But not all of what had been said. He did not mention the second favor Eugene had requested. There was no real reason to withhold this information since he had no intention of complying with the wish, but he could not voice the words. They were too bold and terrible, too cold and final. When A.J. finished the story, they were both quiet.
“Well,” Maggie said, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what to say.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “I haven’t had much use for him for a long time. You know that. I think he has been a horrible father to those poor boys and the worst excuse for a husband I have ever seen. He has driven away everyone who ever cared about him, including you. Still, for all of that, I feel really bad for him.” She sighed.
“He’s been no saint,” A.J. agreed. A memory popped into his head to support the opinion.
They had been at a Little League game, and Eugene had taken it as his fatherly duty to coach his oldest boy on the finer points of the game. This action would have been normal behavior for any father in that setting, but Eugene added a twist when he drove his Jeep through the fence and out to center field to give the boy instruction and encouragement. He was in his cups that day, and it had seemed too far
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she replied. They heard the screen door slam. “Except maybe when it’s time to take Harper to the dentist.” Harper Lee was their eight-year-old middle child and, unfortunately, her first dental experience had been painful. Thus, all subsequent visits to the dentist were like pulling teeth. The problem was so severe the Longstreets had been referred to a pediatric dentist, which is a regular dentist who charges more due to an ability to work on screaming children. They had been faced with this necessity when they discovered Harper Lee was blacklisted at every dental establishment within a fifty-mile radius. “You can’t rely on people with slim hands,” A.J. had noted upon discovering his daughter had become
a persona non grata
in the dental community.
“You’re right,” he said, back in the yard with Maggie. “Taking her to the dentist is worse. It’s your turn next time.” He laid back on the grass to watch the sunset. The sky to the west was passing from dark blue to black. A chill crept into the air.
“How could I forget?” Maggie responded, lying next to him. Together they watched the light fade over the magnolias.
Night fell, and a lone cricket warmed up. It was late in the season, and soon he would be gone. A.J. had briefly forgotten about Eugene’s short, bleak future, but now thoughts of him crept in like ghosts. A.J. wondered what Eugene was thinking now that night had descended. He silently wished him well. As if she could read his mind, Maggie spoke.
“Tell me about your visit with Eugene. Was it a social call, or did he want to accuse you of sleeping with some other member of his family?” Maggie did not generally succumb to petty commentary, but she had not cared for the misunderstanding at the barbecue and had made no secret since then of her opinion that Eugene was primarily responsible for the whole sorry affair. Not that A.J. had escaped unscathed. He had caught the rough side of her tongue over the incident and had listened in abashed silence to an hour-long monologue peppered with many a succinct observation.
But the fight was long ago, and Maggie’s anger did not last, although references to the event occasionally surfaced as instructional aids. She had even sent A.J. off with her blessing earlier in the day. Of course, she had also given him benediction to brain Eugene with the Louisville Slugger if the necessity arose.
The Longstreets lay there in the deepening darkness, and as the stars flickered into their nightly patterns, A.J. related the details of his visit. He spoke of how Eugene had looked, how he had sounded, and what he had said. But not all of what had been said. He did not mention the second favor Eugene had requested. There was no real reason to withhold this information since he had no intention of complying with the wish, but he could not voice the words. They were too bold and terrible, too cold and final. When A.J. finished the story, they were both quiet.
“Well,” Maggie said, breaking the silence. “I don’t know what to say.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “I haven’t had much use for him for a long time. You know that. I think he has been a horrible father to those poor boys and the worst excuse for a husband I have ever seen. He has driven away everyone who ever cared about him, including you. Still, for all of that, I feel really bad for him.” She sighed.
“He’s been no saint,” A.J. agreed. A memory popped into his head to support the opinion.
They had been at a Little League game, and Eugene had taken it as his fatherly duty to coach his oldest boy on the finer points of the game. This action would have been normal behavior for any father in that setting, but Eugene added a twist when he drove his Jeep through the fence and out to center field to give the boy instruction and encouragement. He was in his cups that day, and it had seemed too far
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