Zigzagging Down a Wild Trail by Bobbie Ann Mason Page B

bare knee.
    â€œDon’t touch me,” she said.
    â€œI’m coming with you.”
    â€œYou would leave your sick mother to go play the slots?”
    â€œYou need me to go along with you—for your own good.”
    â€œI don’t need you to chaperone. I
told
you I wrote you out of my script.”
    â€œHey, I like them shorts of yours.” He poked her thigh, making a motion like a mole snouting through dirt. She knocked his hand away with her fist.
    She didn’t know what to say. Peyton had always neglected his mother, so Liz wasn’t surprised that he would duck out now. As the bus lurched out of the parking lot, Peyton tilted his seat back and adjusted the bill of his cap to shade his brow. He reminded Liz of a character in a movie, one of those criminals played by a handsome actor with a smirk. His cobra-head tattoo peeked out of his shirt sleeve. She hadn’t missed that at all.
    â€œHow come you’re off work?” he asked.
    â€œI’m working twelve-hour shifts now, so I get more days off.”
    â€œThey cut your hours,” he said.
    â€œBut I got a raise—a dollar an hour.” Liz watched for the sun, which was on the verge of rising behind Wal-Mart. “You’re ruining my day,” she said. “You ought to go stay with your mom.” She had no idea what he was feeling about Daisy.
    â€œI’ll be good,” Peyton said, patting her leg. “I won’t get in your way.”
    â€œI’m not loaning you any money when you lose yours. As far as I’m concerned, you’re on your own.”
    â€œI won’t go near the blackjack tables,” he said. “Where were you yesterday? I tried to call. I went by the house.”
    Liz shrugged. “Had my knots cut out—don’t touch my head.”
    â€œWon’t your brains ooze out?” He flashed one of his Three Stooges smirks.
    Peyton was bleary-eyed and fuzzy-faced. In jail he had lost weight. Actually, he looked good, Liz thought, since he grew his hair back. In jail, he experimented with shaving his head, but it looked peculiar.
    â€œDid you see that guy in the second row?” Peyton asked rather loudly. “His blubber hangs off into the aisle. I can see it all the way back here. People like that should just be put out of their misery.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid.”
    â€œWell, I say it’s time to rid the world of blubber-butts. And queers. And liberals. And people who drive Lincoln Navigators. And David Letterman.”
    â€œThat kind of talk gets old,” she said angrily. “Decent people don’t talk that way anymore.”
    â€œChill out, babe. You’ve been watching too much television.” He gave her knee a little squeeze.
    She had never figured out how to talk to him when he got like this. “At least I haven’t been in jail,” she said finally.
    â€œOne of these days you’ll come to a bad end, Liz.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself.” She opened her magazine.
    â€œMama wanted us to stay together,” he whispered in her ear. “She just couldn’t bear knowing how we turned out. I believe that’s why she had a stroke.”
    â€œThat wouldn’t cause a stroke.”
    â€œI think you still love me,” Peyton said. “I’m coming home with you tonight,” he said. “To
our
bed. I miss you. Can’t you see I’m full of hurt? And now my mama’s dying. Are you going to kick me when I’m down?”
    She wouldn’t answer. She flipped magazine pages.
    â€œYou’re not getting away with this any longer,” he said.
    They sat in silence for a while, Liz fuming. Peyton was interfering with her new mission to straighten out her life—which she could not have explained to him even if she had a week’s time. Now apparently they were running away together, and everyone would blame them for abandoning Daisy on her deathbed.
    As the bus