For a long time after his mother’s death, John walked around in a malaise. Most of the time, he spent inside the house counting quarters and half dollars he had saved over the years; a big water jug filled with silver, dumped out on the kitchen table. He examined each coin carefully while thinking of nothing. Not a thing came to his mind; a blank slate.
Every once in a while, Eddie would call his kid brother to check on him. Asking questions about work or his lack of. Telling John that he couldn’t go on painting sides of barns, fences, and small houses.
Don’t you want to get married? Start a family of your own? Eddie would ask him.
I had a family, John told him. They all left. Everyone leaves either through life or death. Things change. People change. People changed, he said.
We’re still here, John. I might have left the farm, but I’m still looking out for you. Loretta, too. We’re family John.
What about Bell?
She’s gone, John.
I saw her just the other day. In the parking lot of the Walmart. Getting out of a car that wasn’t hers. Some man behind the steering wheel. She didn’t see me.
Didn’t, huh?
Nope.
That’s because she’s gone, John. She ain’t coming back.
Neither is dad?
No. He left before leaving.
You ever want to find him? John asked.
I just as soon not.
You think he’s still alive?
Man like that? They die young and hard.
I see.
Their conversations would go on for hours. Eddie did most of the talking. An assistant at the Piggly Wiggly. In line to one day being manager. A wife. Two kids.
Some folks got the world right at their fingertips. Others just keep on scratching, trying to get a hold. Like a slick rock. Nothing to grab onto. People just keep reaching. But, there’s nothing there. Just air.
There are others who don’t reach at all. Democrats call them the needy. Republicans say they’re freeloaders. John was OK with either title. He just didn’t care anymore.
And that’s when they get you, John, Eddie said. Right when you don’t care. Don’t let them get you, John. Don’t let them get you.