As if she knew was what going through her mind, he shrugs.
Then daylight.
It’s blistering-bright. People are following-through on whatever their agendas are.
It’s strange; these people—all of them—are going on with their lives and it’s got nothing to do with what’s just happened. Nothing: nothing is going on; nothing at all is going on that
has anything at all to do with Grace.
It’s crowded and hot, even though according to the drug store wall clock it’s 5:15. All around, there’s the too-bright sun and the bright colors that make up downtown: the greens of
the grocery store signs and the reds-and-whites of the five-and-ten. There’s the searing blare of reflected light on the shop windows. All of this is mixed
in with the blues and pinks of the floral dresses of the ladies shopping before
they rush home, late, to fix their meals.
She sees her brother loafing across the street, friendless and eating a
Popsicle. He’s dawdling and aimless, just outside of Poodle’s. Strange, seeing Merrill out of context, and not at the dinner table or at the
house. Is this how others see him too— tic-filled and too-tall?
“Merrill!” She crosses the street. Suddenly he’s nervous, like he’s just been caught.
“Where you been? They been looking for you,” he says. Merrill’s Popsicle is melting onto the street. His arms, Grace notices, seem independent
of him; they jerk and flutter in little spurts. The Popsicle melts down his
hand.
“Better watch that.”
He sucks at it and licks his hand. “What happened?”
Grace realizes that Merrill is here a shadow of their father’s anger. In Merrill’s distraction, she sees the coming fireworks.
“Nothing. Just lost track, it being half-day and all. They mad, Mom and Dad?”
“Dad yelled. We got meatloaf. I left because I wanted to get me a Popsicle before
the store done closed.”
Done closed. She hates her brother’s redneck pretensions.
“They mad?”
“You know. Dad. Et. Cetera. Blah blah.”
They walk home together. For Grace the mental image of her father grows. She
looks at Merrill as he struggles with the Popsicle. He’s trying to get it all before it falls in icy cherry chunks onto the street.
Merrill is a favorite of Dad’s. A tinge of jealousy courses through her—what’s so special about this boy with a melting Popsicle? Merrill sucks at it and
makes slurping sounds as a chunk falls to the street.
“Damn!”
They’re at the corner and before they turn she sneaks a glance at John Wagner’s store. From this distance it looks so small and shambly. The town itself seems
smaller, too. This town, she thinks: pathetic. From this distance she can see
his store windows clearly, but they appear dark from here. She just knows he’s at those windows, watching. His eyes are on her.
Just then she notices her blouse is a awry. She adjusts it and pats down her
hair. She’s going to be okay, she tells herself; she’s going to be fine; everything will be okay. Again she looks back at the shop.
She tells herself it’s so small and far away—even just two blocks away, it’s so small. Its windows are dark but she can see him; he must be there.
A little too brightly Grace says, “my Lord, it’s warm” and soon they’re at their house. Their lawn is green, so green, greener than any others in
town. Little stones painted white are at the edging. The bushes are neatly
trimmed. They come in under the carport and her house is reflecting heat, but
it looks so inviting nonetheless. She knows tonight there’ll be the humidity and sticky night heat. She’ll stick to the sheets. Tonight she’ll read her book and she will look out at the stars as she lies in bed. She’ll situate herself as close to the fan as possible and she’ll pretend as she always does, that the fan is bringing her cool breezes from
somewhere exotic, where such winds originate.
**********
“The Town Secrets” is an excerpt from a novel-in-progress, Kings of the Wild Frontier
Photograph “Shine So Bright I Explode” by David Krueger
