I strike the hoe down and hunch over. I scoop my arm behind my back as Jean runs up. She pants with her golden hair bobbing with the straw hat. “Cows are all fed.” “What’s all the rush for?” She grabs her knees and catches the rest of her breath, “The girls are hitting the town for thanksgiving.” I press my lips together, “But I need you here-“ Her eyes open wide, “Come on! Please?” I raise my hand, “Fine, go have fun. I’ll just finish up.” “Really?!” Her eyes sparkle at the thought of coming back drunk. I sigh as she cheers, “Don’t be cheering, you still have to plow an acre.” She smiles, passes with a graze of my shoulder, “Don’t throw your back out!” Too late, almost already did. “I’ll be fine!”

She runs off as I stare at my wrinkled hands. I raise the hoe, drop it and grab my hip. I hunch over more, I’m broken, I can’t even till soil no more. And what was Blondie runnin’ from? She never told me, but it’s like she forgot I found her covered in someone else’s blood. Did she repress it or something? Why’d I even take her in?

I shake my head, “Pain in my ass.” I muster up all my waning strength and waddle inside my home. My eyes widen, a picture frame I threw away.

I gulp and plop down on the kitchen table. Why’d you go through my things, Jean? Is it because I put your lazy ass to work? I cry and knock on the frame, “That’s my boy.”

I close my eyes, we shouted, spit spewed from our mouths, stubborn ass child. I loved too hard, cared too much, enough to make him run, I watched him do so happily. I let him run. Why did I?! I bang my fist on the table, my lips tremble as I swipe my car keys up.

The hypnotizing roads of the city destroys my sense of time until the engine grumbles to a stop and my feet hit the ground. The season heat of Texas beats down like hell, just how I always like it. I inhale as the old and gray Jimmy stumbles outside, coal dust still on his face and drink in hand, “Diesel, they’re tied!”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I open my arms, “Jimmy! You still workin?!” He hiccups, “They cut it.” He takes another sip, then slurs, “They took my retirement and shut it alllll down.”

Jimmy stumbles and I grab him, “Let’s go back inside, Jimmy.” I groan at the pains screaming from my knees, I’m gettin too old for walkin’ around. Jimmy stumbles yet again, “You gonna drink? It’d cheer me up?” I laugh and we get through the doors. I pat his shoulder and shout over the bar’s TVs, people, “Sure!”

Jimmy bends forward and retches on the hardwood. Betty shouts from behind the bar, “Jimmy!? Not again!” I smile, “Too bad he’s a big consumer!” Her eyes turn and puts her hands on her hips, “Haven’t seen you in a minute! You doing okay?” Jimmy plops down and I take a seat beside him, “Lotta work on the old farm.” I look up at the news, the world to me turns deaf,

Soldiers run and shoot guns, the muzzle flashes, tanks rush through fields. Nuclear bomb explosions, the ones that hit Hiroshima, Nagasaki. Spaceships, War machines. Photos from the war, Soldiers with fists in the air. The United Galaxy of America’s army needs YOU.

Betty waves her hand in my face, “Ferron to Diesel.” I shake my head as she drops a cherry into my favorite bourbon in a shot glass. She slides it just a few inches with a smile, “First one’s free, big spender.” What was that? Why was that so… it felt real. So significant, makes me think- Was that Second World War I fought in for nothing? What did we really end if we still need an army? Something else too, no soldier ever raised their fist like that, that photo’s new, designed to look old.

Jimmy slaps my shoulder, points to a screen, we shout and chant at the top of our lungs, “Cmon!” Aaron hits the 20 yard mark! The 10! Oh no here comes-Ooh! Jimmy bangs on the bar, “Damnit!” Betty speeds toward him so fast, a gust of wind brushes against us both, she slaps him with a wet rag, Tackled by Johnny! He points at the screen, “Aaron was so damn close! He just lost us the super bowl!” “Break my bar, you buy it!”

I down my shot and set the glass down, It might be my age showing, but it’s gotten borin’. No threat, no worries. I dunno if life is supposed to be a paradise. I scoff, Paradise is killing us. Even the smart Jimmy, got hit too many times by mine cave ins. It feels like a Cold War, something rotten's happening all the time it seems, I just can't see it at all. I raise the empty glass to Betty, in hopes she numbs the senses a little, the regrets and problems wash away.