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“Whatever.” Martin turned and went
to the kitchen. He unconsciously rubbed his hand down his thin arm.
Dawn,
Lily, and Martin Jr. sat at the round table. The kitchen doorwall was open to
let in a breeze if there had been one. Outside, crickets shrilly chirped loudly
over the sounds of butter frying in the pan. The back hill moved with little
life. The crest and hazy sky receded into the horizon, blurring in the
distance.
Lena said, “You girls better get your lessons done
b’fore you go out later this afternoon. ”
“Mamma, we told
you, we got’em all dun.”
“You sure?”
Lily slid her
thin hand under a pancake and flipped it onto her brother’s plate.
“Hey!” he shouted.
Lily said, “We all done, mamma. After we
go, we want to go back to the lake.”
“That car ride ain’t
going to be no fun,” Martin Jr. said. “Can’t we skip it? The car
ain’t got no air. It’ll be too hot.”
“You want the
cakes or the frying pan?” Lena asked. “Since when does heat bother
you? ”
“Whatever.” Martin Jr. slumped into his chair.
“Yo lessons done?”
“Yeah, I a learned my lessons long
ago.” Martin Jr.’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. A small spider had
spun a web across a hole in the plaster and was sitting in the middle of
it.
“That ain’t what I mean.”
“Can’t I have a
day to myself?”
“Ever day b’long to you. You just have to
use it wisely.”
“Whatever.” Martin Jr. looked out through
the open doorwall.
His sisters chattered like two Blue Jays.
Martin Jr.
imagined himself a large dragonfly sitting out in the field behind his house,
sitting in the hot sun, rising, floating, moving, wind through his paper wings,
setting back down. They didn’t have no three hours drive on Sundays.
He’d rather melt into the earth then go driving north. Hell, ain’t
nothing better than a man’s private time to hisself, Martin Jr. thought.
Just ain’t enough time for it. His father used to tell him
that.