Jesus, can Marley dig. I mean, I know that dogs can dig, but Marley can really dig. Nothing half hearted with her, she’s a regular two pawed-
‘Hey Seymour, stop staring at that dog.’
‘Hey. Hi Jim. I’m not staring, I’m just watching is all. I mean, look at her go. She’s a regular two pawed-’
‘Well stop watching her and get back to the house.’ Jim is stuffing his lip with a plug of Kodiak. I tried that once or twice but it just made my lip hurt. I don’t know why he likes it. Can’t be good for you, something that hurts like that. Marley is still digging. Probably almost half a foot down. At least half of half a foot. She’s a regular two pawed-
‘Seymour, the burgers are almost done and-’ spit ‘-Collette was looking for you. You know,’ his face scrunches up and his voice gets high and full of rasp. ‘Where’s Seymour, where is that boy. Jim have you seen that boy I miss that boy. Where’s my Seymour?’ He grins. Some of the Kodiak is stuck between his teeth.
‘Jim, how is it you like that stuff?
Spit. ‘What?’
‘The Kodiak. I tried it once or twice and it just hurt. How is it you like that stuff?’ Jim’s got big stupid eyes and his mouth is hanging open like some kind of panting dog. He’s just staring at me with those big stupid eyes and panting. The sun is starting to go down and the sky is turning this neon blue that I’ve never seen before. Maybe I have, but not around here. Jim’s bottom lip is shining and jutting out. I bet he’s never seen a blue like this. I bet he doesn’t even know if he has or not.
‘Didn’t you hear what I said, Seymour? Burgers. Collette’s looking for you. There’s beer. It’s a great day. You’re missing the party. What the hell are you doing out here anyway?’
‘I told you, I’m just watching the dog.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Jim’s looking kind of sweaty. Maybe the heat’s getting to him. He isn’t in great shape. Almost two bills I think. Jim weighed one sixty two years ago. Marley’s stopped digging and is shoving her snout down into her little foxhole. It’s definitely half a foot deep.
Spit. That came close to my foot. Nasty glob of brown. Jim doesn’t notice.
‘Listen Jim, why don’t you head on back to the party and I’ll catch up with you, all right? I just wanted a moment away was all.’
Spit. ‘Sure thing, Seymour, sure thing. I’ll just tell Collette to calm down or something. I’ll tell her that you’re pondering the universe or something.’
‘Just tell her I’m watching Marley dig around.’
Jim scratches his stomach. ‘Sure thing, Seymour. Whatever you want. Oh, I forgot to offer you some dip.’ He reaches into his back pocket and drags out his tin. He’s smiling. His teeth are yellow and I think his breath probably smells terrible but I can’t smell it from here. I just think that it must.
‘Sure, Jim. Thanks.’
I pack a plug into my lip and hand the tin back to Jim. He wanders off back towards the house. My lip starts to hurt. Marley pokes her head out of the hole and looks towards me with her tail wagging. I call her over and she kind of bounces up and licks my face.
‘Good girl,’ I say. ‘Good girl, Marley. You’re a regular two pawed steam shovel, you know that?’
~
Jim is halfway across the front field when he finds a tick nestled deep in his left armpit. He swears loudly, stops walking and lifts his arm to get a good look. It’s engorged and ready to fall off. Jim wonders why he didn’t notice it before. He pinches its tiny black body between thumb and index and gives the thing a long pull. It comes out with a soundless pop. He holds it in his fingers and watches it, headless and wriggling. He clucks his tongue in annoyance and removes the hunk of chewing tobacco from his bottom lip. Mash. The tick is buried deep in spit and nicotine. Flick. It flies into tall grass and lands on an ant mound.
Spit.
Bark.
Jim turns back towards the edge of the forest. He sees Seymour standing underneath a pine tree, his eyes glued on that dog. Jim realizes that Seymour annoys him. Not annoy, thinks Jim. Pisses off. Yes. That is good. That is better. Seymour throws something to the dog. A stick maybe. It barks and sprints into the forest. Seymour turns around and looks up at the sky. Jim doesn’t see what Seymour is looking at. There isn’t anything to look at up there. There isn’t a cloud in the sky.
Jim notices the sun is going down.
He doesn’t notice that the sky is blue.
Spit.
He turns around and starts walking back towards the party. The smell of burnt meat tumbles across the field and snakes its way into Jim’s nose. Sound of voice crawls into smell of meat and suddenly he is back at the house. He walks over to an empty picnic table and takes a seat. He lays his arms on the table and ignores the strain his belly makes against his t-shirt. He weighs two hundred and ten pounds. Two years ago he must have weighed one sixty. One sixty flat. One fifty even. Definitely one forty. He reaches under the table and adjusts himself. He looks to his right. Three people he doesn’t know are crowded over by the grill, charring the hell out of the burgers that he bought. Collette’s friends. They don’t bother him as much as he wishes they would. He can tell that they are smarter than him. He doesn’t know why he can tell, he just knows it. Something about the way they wear their pants. The way they stand. He hears a screen door swing and slam. He feels thin fingers wrap around his face and smells bad perfume and alcohol.
Collette asks Jim if Jim has found Seymour.
‘Course I did. He’s just over there. See him?’ Jim jerks his thumb towards the forest, towards Seymour and the dog.
Collette asks Jim what it is Seymour is doing over there. And when is he coming back.
‘He’ll be over in a bit, Collette. He’s just being a-’ Asshole. ‘-introspective type. You know, interspective?’
Collette asks what that means. Jim coughs.
‘Means quiet. Shy.’
Oh, I didn’t know that. Should I go over and see him? Is he okay?
‘Sure Collette. He’s fine. He’s just thinking is all.’
About what.
‘Dunno, ‘lette. Want some dip?’
No.
‘Suit yourself.’
…Are you sure he’s all right? I mean, he’s barely even said boo to me all night. He got here and just sort of floated by me. I stopped him and kissed him. He said some things.
Spit. ‘What did he say?’
I don’t really remember. Something about how pretty this town is. He said it was pretty and then he got this distant look on his face. Like this.
‘You look like a loon.’
Well. You’re very nice.
Spit. ‘Prettiest loon I’ve ever seen.’
Oh hush. And so, he got this look on his face and I asked him what was wrong. I asked him, Is there something wrong? And he looked at me and smiled and said No, of course nothing’s wrong. Then I turn my back for two minutes and he’s gone. It’s like he doesn’t care about me.
Spit. ‘I never did get what you see in him. He’s up in his head all the time. Up in the clouds. You deserve someone here. You know, here on Earth and grounded.’
I can’t say you’re wrong Jim. It’s hard sometime. It’s really hard.
Spit. ‘It doesn’t have to be.’
I know. He just won’t talk to me. And when he does, it doesn’t make much sense anyway. Sometimes he makes me so mad.
Spit.
One of the people Jim doesn’t know yells about the burgers being done. He’s wearing the kind of pants that Jim wears on special occasions, like weddings and funerals. He thinks they’re called ‘slacks’ but he’s not sure.
~
A stick tumbles madly through the air. Marley is after it like a shot, her padded feet gliding effortlessly across the uneven ground. She finds the stick easily enough, even in the ghost light of dying day. She brings it back to him and he tries to take it from her teeth. She won’t go. Growling. He growls back. She wins. He sits down and stares at her. Marley lies down and chews on the stick. It tastes sweet and earthy. Good girl, he says. Good girl. He pats her on the head and she pauses her gnawing and licks his hand. He smiles at her and she goes back to her work. He stares up at the sky and starts humming.
You know, he says, this place is pretty. Very pretty.
Chew.
And you know, he says, you know I’ve lived here my entire life. Twenty years. Here. Twenty very pretty years.
Chew.
You know, I’ve barely even left this state. I mean, I’ve gone on trips, but when I’m off someplace else I’m only thinking of this town. My feet leave, but my head stays here.
Chew.
I went to Prague for three months once.
Chew.
Longest I’ve been away.
Gnaw.
You know, I’m not sure what makes this place pretty. It isn’t as if it’s beautiful. I mean, maybe to someone from Prague this place is beautiful. But to me, it’s just very pretty. And you know, there isn’t anything wrong with something being very pretty.
Chew.
But there isn’t anything good with it either.
Bark.
Good girl. You know, I’ve been thinking. I think I would rather that I’d live in an ugly place. Like a really ugly place. Some really low place with cockroaches and drug addicts and- well, you know. Ugly.
Chew.
You know, when I was driving over here I passed this sign that said ‘East Brownsville’. It was nailed to this big old oak tree on the side of the road. I thought really hard about crashing my car into that tree. I’m not sure why I didn’t. I mean, I could try leaving this place and moving someplace low, but like I said before, it’s not like I’d be able to actually get away.
Chew.
So why should I crash into that big old oak tree?
Chew.
I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here and I don’t think that I can. Because if I do crash into that big old oak tree they’ll get rid of that sign and put a pretty white cross in its place. They’ll bury me here.
Chew.
…
Chew.
Listen, let’s get back to the house. I bet your owner is missing you. I bet Collette’s missing me. So let’s go back.
Marley barks and stands up, stick firmly in mouth. She trots quickly over to her hole and plops the stick down inside. It’s a perfect fit. He stays on the ground and as she starts to bury it, he smiles.
Jesus, he thinks to himself. She’s a regular two pawed steam shovel.
