A little past five, I stood at the stove. Footsteps sounded on the front porch, a whir of wheels, the rattle of a chain, and the snap of a lock. The front door opened, and someone crossed the living room. Wearing a quilted down vest and a helmet, Laurel stood in the archway.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood evening, darling,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi, Wes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNobody is going to steal a bicycle in Hapsburg.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBetter safe than sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Laurel shook loose her long brown hair. She leaned over the stove and took a deep breath. \u201cThat smells good. What is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSplit pea soup with onion and garlic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are the orange bits?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGrated carrot.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was flushed and smiling, teasing me.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s traditional,\u201d I said, \u201clike chocolate chips in a cookie. You know me, I\u2019m all about tradition.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cExcept when you\u2019re not.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her cheek was so close, I couldn\u2019t resist a peck.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re wearing the new chef\u2019s apron,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cSince you bought it for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAfter you bailed me out. To make amends.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s nothing to make amends for.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen consider it a token of my appreciation. You didn\u2019t say \u2018I told you so.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m still not. But I do want to know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn return for my cooperation,\u201d Laurel recited, \u201cthe campus police let me off the hook. I gave names and addresses of the other protesters.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou squealed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat else could I do? The college library still fired me. There\u2019s a clause in the employee guidelines about destruction of property.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held the spoon so she could taste the soup.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe apron makes you look so clean and \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLike I know what I\u2019m doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat too. You smell like fresh laundry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSpeaking of which \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know, the hamper is full and the laundromat is lonely.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cChores. That was our agreement.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnyway, you are<\/em> a good cook, so enough false modesty.\u201d She stepped back, unzipped her vest, and sat backward in a chair to face me.<\/p>\n \u201cHow was the first day at the new job?\u201d I stirred the pot of soup. As we talked, I chopped vegetables and set the skillet over a flame.<\/p>\n \u201cWonderful! The public library is exactly what you expect in a small town, old and quirky, with lots of windows and natural oak. My boss Hazel Lampwick is a dear! She grew up here, always wanted to be a librarian. I would guess she\u2019s 40-ish.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe same age as me. We went to school together.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally and truly?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo lie.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Lampwick asked me to read aloud in the afternoon to the preschoolers. So, in addition to my menial tasks, I\u2019m the new story lady. I started to read a book, but a squirmy little boy interrupted me after the first sentence. \u2018We already read that one,\u2019 he said. I tried another book, and he cut me off again.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo what did you do? Smack him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Wes! I made up a story.\u201d Laurel\u2019s eyes shone.<\/p>\n \u201cAren\u2019t you supposed to promote the written word?\u201d I finished chopping and was about to saut\u00e9 the vegetables.<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no job description.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBesides, you told me you\u2019re a terrible liar.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTelling a story is not the same as lying. It\u2019s an art form.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAn old Southern tradition.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre people from Missouri allowed to tell stories?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMissouri is a border state.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnyway, as I rode home on my bicycle, I passed the courthouse green, and I had to stop. Sunlight was fading, and clouds were turning a dull purple. Small birds flew as a flock around and around.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSwallows.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLights came on in the houses. It was like watching a movie. I watched a man come home from work. I imagined his wife inside cooking dinner, children setting the table. They had to set an extra place for a visitor. Then it hit me \u2014 I was going home, too. Except instead of Mrs. Whatsit, you<\/em> were in the kitchen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the children stayed at the library.\u201d<\/p>\n Laurel laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should write about what you saw.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, Wes, the subject is too much like my college poems. I don\u2019t want to write something moody.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen don\u2019t. Paint the picture and tell the story.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t even know what the story is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSurprise yourself. Do it tonight, while the experience is fresh.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShould I include the bicycle?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBeats me. I never rode one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeriously?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI grew up dirt poor, Laurel. We lived in an old plank house with a rock fireplace. There was one bedroom for grownups. Children slept in the attic.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere was this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOut in the county.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you at least have indoor plumbing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe fetched water from a spring and used a privy to answer the call of nature.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour childhood home makes Missouri look progressive.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo make matters worse, my parents passed away in their 30s. I was the youngest. My sister helped raise me as long as she could. She got married, and then it was every man for himself. I got my first job as a teenager, when I was still in school.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are your siblings now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGone or moved away.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you the last of the Grubbs?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot hardly. There\u2019s always more lurking in the backwoods of Virginia. But you see how we couldn\u2019t afford extras.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike new clothes and fancy toys.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd bicycles.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd that\u2019s why you never learned to ride.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow it\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t say that! Better late than never. I\u2019ll teach you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOn what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can ride my bicycle.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat if I crash and wreck it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWes, this isn\u2019t like you. After supper, we\u2019ll go outside for your first lesson. I\u2019ll hold the handlebar and run alongside. You\u2019ll see. It\u2019s as easy as \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFalling off a log?\u201d<\/p>\n After supper, Laurel dragged me out to the porch, unlocked her bicycle, and lifted it down the steps to the street. The last gasp of daylight was gone by then. A streetlamp flickered from an old utility pole that oozed tar and leaned like it was tired. Perched on the skinny bicycle seat, high above those skinny wheels, I tilted and wobbled.<\/p>\n \u201cFeet on the pedals, look straight ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI feel like a bear in a circus.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOnce you get moving, it\u2019s easier to balance.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s too dark to see where we\u2019re going.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no traffic in the street at this hour. We\u2019ll be fine.\u201d She panted as she ran.<\/p>\n Laurel lost her grip, and I spurted ahead. I struck a pothole, went down, and landed on my left elbow.<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d Laurel wailed as she scrambled to where I lay. \u201cAre you hurt?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a good thing I\u2019m right-handed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis is all my fault!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGive me a hand up. Ouch!\u201d The agony was beginning.<\/p>\n \u201cYour sleeve is ripped.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about the bicycle?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt looks okay. Maybe a scratch on the paint.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow bad is my elbow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSomething white is showing. I think the bone is exposed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about blood?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot too much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s good, because I can\u2019t stand the sight of blood. Especially when it\u2019s mine. Can you look in the medicine cabinet?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know anything about first aid.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe there\u2019s some iodine or hydrogen peroxide.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShould I call a doctor? Boil some water?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSharpen a knife for the amputation \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWes!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust kidding, Laurel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow can you make jokes at a time like this? What should I do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you want to do me a favor, darling, you can drive me to the emergency room.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe next town over. Here\u2019s the key to my truck. I\u2019ll give you directions.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n By the time we reached the regional medical center, my arm was throbbing and my mind was fuzzy. A plump young woman in a nurse outfit made wary eye contact with Laurel. She took my blood pressure, pulse, and so on.<\/p>\n \u201cDr. Zahiri will be with you in a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n A dark, wiry young man with a black mustache poked me in the ribs and looked in my ears. He told me to breathe, listened through a stethoscope, checked my vision, and stuck a wooden paddle in my mouth.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat brings you here upon this dreary midnight hour?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy elbow.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, that.\u201d He prodded my elbow until I screamed with pain.<\/p>\n \u201cMy dear sir, what is a little discomfort in the pursuit of medical science? You would not wish me to think you are a baby.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, I would!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNotwithstanding! A summary physical examination having been concluded, let us proceed to a preliminary diagnosis. You have hurt your arm. The left one, to be precise. And how did this unfortunate turn of events come about?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI fell off a bicycle in the street.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAllow me to express my condolences.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow bad is it?\u201d Laurel asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, not so bad, as these things go. No bones are broken, but if my train of thought is leading to a correct destination, the elbow is banged up pretty good. We must now proceed to a course of medical treatment. May I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAppropriate touching only.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI shall prescribe two drugs, antibiotic and analgesic.\u201d He talked nonstop as he cleaned and dressed the wound. \u201cThe arm will swell over the next several hours to a red balloon. This sling will allow the circulation of the blood. It must stay on for a week. During that week, there must be no driving under the influence and no heavy lifting.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI work in a warehouse.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy dear sir, for the next seven days, you will do nothing of the kind! I absolutely forbid it! Allow the injured arm to heal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow that we have disposed of the immediate complaint, it is my unpleasant duty to inform you that you are a very sick man. Undoubtedly, you suffer from high blood pressure, irregular heartbeat, and enlargement of the thorax.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Laurel was alarmed.<\/p>\n \u201cHard living has taken its toll. After untold years of abuse and neglect, your heart may give way at any moment. You must immediately abandon the use of alcohol, tobacco, psychotropic drugs, and every vice that gives the illusion of pleasure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI already did that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen there is no hope for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want a second opinion.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, Mr. Grubb, you are in denial.\u201d He patted my shoulder affectionately. \u201cIt is perfectly natural, a defense by the mind against the stark reality of the body. Young lady, you must persuade your father to rest.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut he\u2019s not \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTry to make his last moments on earth as peaceful as possible. One week!\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Normally, I leave the house each morning before Laurel is awake, but I had a bad night. By dawn I knew I wasn\u2019t going anywhere. I lolled in bed, as Laurel got ready for work. She paused bedside and fretted.<\/p>\n \u201cCan I fix breakfast for you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t bother. I couldn\u2019t eat anything right now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI could at least make coffee. Where do you keep the coffee maker?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay, darling.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about your pain medicine?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat I could swallow. Where is that little bottle?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI hate leaving you here alone. I could stay and \u2026<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s nothing you can do, sweetheart. I\u2019m going to lie here all day and gaze out the window and moan something pitiful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI feel sorry for you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI feel sorry enough for two, so there\u2019s no point in hanging over me. You go on to the library. By the time you get home, I\u2019ll either be cussing or dead.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t say that! Wait, did you believe what Dr. Zahiri said?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was exercising his vocabulary. Notwithstanding! Now, shoo, or you\u2019ll be late for work.\u201d<\/p>\n I took a painkiller, turned on the TV, and collapsed on the futon. My forearm was swollen like Popeye the Sailor. Dr. Zahiri was right about the swelling. Did that mean he was right about my heart?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Laurel got home a little past five. She rushed to the kitchen with her helmet still on.<\/p>\n \u201cGood evening, darling.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHi, Wes. You already started supper?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWarmed-up split pea soup with the cornbread I made. It never goes stale.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCornbread starts out dry and crumbly and stays that way. It\u2019s traditional.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI could have stopped on my way home for take-out at Forbidden Garden.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to use up leftovers.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWere you able to get around?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not crippled, just discombobulated.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou do look tired.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was busy being miserable. I may lose my job, I can\u2019t play guitar with my arm in a sling, and the pain is \u2026 a pain.<\/p>\n \u201cPoor thing! Even with pills, it\u2019s still there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike a dull thud. How was your day?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cToo much down time. I thought about you. To distract myself, I wrote this.\u201d She handed me a sheet of lined notebook paper.<\/p>\n \u201cYou wrote a poem?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAbout the courthouse green. You suggested it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo I did. In the commotion, I forgot.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell me what you think.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShould I be brutally honest?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI might cry. Either way.\u201d<\/p>\n I held the paper in my good hand. Laurel\u2019s handwriting was clear. The title was \u201cEvening.\u201d<\/p>\n Swallows circle the courthouse green,<\/em><\/p>\n Black speckles in a sky of mauve,<\/em><\/p>\n While light drains from the air unseen,<\/em><\/p>\n And stillness rules the grove.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Now that the molten sun has set,<\/em><\/p>\n Gables and chimneys and the crown<\/em><\/p>\n Of trees merge in a silhouette,<\/em><\/p>\n An emblem of the town.<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Windows are lit, the kitchen hums,<\/em><\/p>\n A glass is poured to cheer the guest.<\/em><\/p>\n The table waits, the supper comes,<\/em><\/p>\n The family is blessed.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cThe end is a surprise,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe family seated at the table.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not my<\/em> family.\u201d She grimaced.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t like your parents.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cVirginia is a healthy distance from Missouri, and I aim to keep it that way. It\u2019s a generic family, an ideal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan it be more? Maybe it\u2019s the painkiller talking, but I want to know. Can it be us?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t see myself as a mother.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou like children.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo long as they\u2019re somebody else\u2019s. And I\u2019m not much of a housekeeper.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat makes two of us. Do you want a younger man?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re asking hard questions, Wes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, Laurel. We had a hot night last summer, and you moved in. We never talked much. Maybe this is as good a time as any.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGo ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen I was your age, I wanted to get married. Over the years, I had girlfriends. Once or twice we got close to making it official. But they always left.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause of your drinking?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s why I quit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas that the only reason?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI made mistakes. Alcohol makes the mistakes occur more often. I\u2019m still in favor of food and sex and good times.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo I noticed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re having ourselves a good old time, Laurel. Is that all it will ever be?\u201d I dropped to one knee. \u201cOr will you marry me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, no! Are you having a heart attack?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m proposing to you. Can you help me up, darling?\u201d<\/p>\n Laurel helped me off the floor, and we both sat. She was quiet for a while.<\/p>\n \u201cWes, you\u2019ve been good to me. I can\u2019t leave you in the lurch after what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t ask for a nurse.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I wasn\u2019t volunteering.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo the accident doesn\u2019t change a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t say that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen what would you say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t date boys in high school, because I wasn\u2019t ready. I chose a women\u2019s college because I still wasn\u2019t ready. Listening to other girls talk about what they did with boys made me cringe. I graduated, academic life was over, and I had to move from the apartment. I had to face real life. Ready or not, here I come!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo one fine night, you went to the caf\u00e9 \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026 and there you were. As real as anything.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI try.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut we are an unconventional couple.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMeaning what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re the chief cook and bottle washer. What am I? A plaything? A young career woman on track to a future in library science? The next Miss Lampwick? All I know is I\u2019m not making plans the way my parents do. They forever plot and plan, and where does it get them? I\u2019m living day to day. I\u2019m 21 years old, half your age. I have time to decide.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGranted.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou said you\u2019re the youngest, the only one left from your family. If you want to start a family, which involves planning \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m slipping past the age for that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAren\u2019t children expected?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot by me. A marriage isn\u2019t what your parents did.\u201d<\/p>\n Laurel was about to grant this point, when something rattled and hissed on the stove. The soup pot was boiling over. I jumped up to turn down the flame.<\/p>\n \u201cSo much for seize the moment,\u201d I said. \u201cWhat else can go wrong? When it comes to women, I never win.\u201d<\/p>\n As I fussed at the stove, Laurel sneaked up behind me and wrapped her arms around me. She whispered in my ear.<\/p>\n \u201cThis time you win.\u201d<\/p>\n I jumped again.<\/p>\n \u201cSorry? Did I squeeze your arm too hard?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay. I\u2019ll live.\u201d I revolved in her arms.<\/p>\n \u201cDo we have to get married in the Methodist church where you sing in the choir?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOnly if you want.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo be brutally honest, no.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen we\u2019ll go to City Hall.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA civil ceremony?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou pick the day.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo we need rings and a bouquet? Do we have to dress up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA minute ago, you said you\u2019re not into making plans.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTrue, but this is a wedding.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA wedding is when you invite relatives and friends and hire a caterer and a band and put on a big show. Is that what you want?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. I don\u2019t care about impressing anyone. If my parents object, we can throw a party for them later. Or let them<\/em> plan the party. Tell me what you<\/em> want.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s real simple, darling. All I want is you.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A little past five, I stood at the stove. Footsteps sounded on the front porch, a whir of wheels, the rattle of a chain, and the snap of a lock. The front door opened, and someone crossed the living room. Wearing a quilted down vest and a helmet, Laurel stood in the archway. \u201cGood evening, … <\/p>\n