Wednesday, May 7, 2014

A Story About A Broken Cowboy



His fingers slid against the wall as walked to the back of the house. She carried a ten pound fish freshly gutted.

-Are you sure they won’t mind?

She dropped the carp on the counter and cracked the refrigerator, the cold air rippling across sweat, prickling the hair on her arms. He looked at the pictures on the wall, none of the smiling faces looked familiar. He picked up one with a little boy in a baseball uniform posing with a bat.

-Do we know him?

She finished chopping the garlic and paused only slightly before slicing a lemon. She closed her eyes like this when he asked too many questions, like she held all of her words back with her eyelids. He looked all the small signals on her face, but struggled to read them. When she worked her face was an empty sky. He wondered if he asked this question before and put the frame back on the shelf.

-Can I help?

This time she registered so little response he wondered if she heard him. In her hands the fish transformed into fillets. He almost repeated his question when she finally spoke, gesturing with the knife towards the photograph.

-That’s you.


On the stove, a pan sizzled with butter. When the garlic hit the heat the room filled with a familiar aroma.