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March 2007 MEMBER AUTHOR SHOWCASE Easy
Listening, Hard Living Summertime and the living is easy . . . I hummed to the music filtering through the screen door as I hung up the washing on the clothesline. Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high That was true enough, I thought, taking a clothespin out of my apron pocket. Problem was, a person couldn’t live on fried catfish alone. And nobody got rich picking cotton in our parts. And I was sure sick and tired of being poor. Oh, your daddy’s rich . . . I shook my head over that one. Jess was dirt poor when we married, but I hadn’t cared, ‘cuz I was love starved and he was good looking. He had strong hands that played on my body and made my heart sing. But that melody faded away after we was married. Jess couldn’t hold a steady job for more’n a couple of months at a time. It seemed like he turned plain mean once the wedding vows were over—like he’d been holding back on what he was really like. And then the baby came along. . . . and your ma is good lookin’ When Jess courted me, he said I was the prettiest gal in town. Now, he’s always finding fault, most of all because I’m too tired when he crawls on top of me, all sweaty and dirty, not bothering to clean up first. He keeps saying that he’s sorry he ever hitched up with me. Well, I’m the sorriest, ‘cause I can’t figure out how to get away from him. I’d take Baby Sarah and leave, but Jess must’ve suspected I was thinking about that. One night, he backed me into a corner and said, “Don’t you be gettin’ any notions about running off and takin’ the baby with you.” Then he wrapped one hand around my throat and slapped me a good one with the other. I didn’t go into town for days ‘til the bruising went down. So hush little baby, don’ you cry. Fear’s a terrible thing, and so’s desperation. I didn’t want Baby Sarah growing up with a daddy like that. So I did the best that I could and prayed my idea would work—and prayed. God would forgive me. That night, I fixed myself up real pretty and sweet-talked Jessie into taking a bath. He got a silly grin on his face, shucked off his clothes, filled the tub and hopped in. I walked in wearing my fancy nightgown and a smile. Then I took the fan plugged into the wall and dropped it into the bathtub. Sparks flew and there was a popping noise, and Jess slid down in the tub. Then I went out to Baby Sarah and sang her the rest of my favorite song. One of these mornin’s you gonna rise up singing Spread your winds and you’ll take the sky. End Patricia Harrington is the author of several anthology and flash fiction pieces, as well as of the Bridget O'Hern series: DEATH STALKS THE KHMER and DEATH COMES TOO SOON. For more information, see her page here on MysteryAuthors.com. |