SUMMER HEAT
By Atonia Walpole
Part Two:
Davin smoked and looked up over the pond at the branch where there used to be a rope, remembering how you could swing out and fall into the deep water, never knowing whether you’d come up or not. He could still see the knot of the rope on the branch, the rope long since gone. He wondered if some kid had been on the end of the rope when it broke. It could have been him.
Seven Sister Roses covered the broken-down wooden rail fence entwined with honeysuckle, making their own barrier now. Myra parked her car under a tree and stepped out into the tall grass. It tickled her legs as she walked through it, keeping an eye on the ground for snakes. She stopped and looked at the ruins of the mill. It was nearly covered in wisteria vines. She wished she’d come earlier when it was in bloom. She loved the smell of wisteria and roses and gardenias and…cigarette smoke. She stopped again, raising her head and looking around. Birds were making a racket in the trees and a breeze had come up. She sniffed the air again but it was gone. Had it ever been there?
He lay back in the grass watching the leaves dance around on their inadequate stems, the breeze turning their silver sides up. The only sound was the birds and the rush of water as it went over the spillway. It lulled him, pulling him. His eyes closed.
She slid off her shoes, slipping her feet into the cool water. Her body wanted more so she hiked her skirt up and stood thigh deep in the water, wading out a little. She remembered where the drop off was and stopped, afraid to go farther. Turned toward the bank then, she noticed how it had grown up around the pond. Did nobody come here anymore?
She looked up, seeing the branch where they used to swing out on an old rope swing. The rope was gone like so many happy carefree days. Her eyes followed the tree branch, remembering when Davin had attached the rope to it. He’d been a daredevil when the rest of them were afraid of deep water. She was beginning to remember the time he’d climbed the water tower in junior high school when she saw the sole of a boot in the grass.
Carefully she stepped on the rocks, moving down the bank to see if the boot were attached to anything or just a lost sole. “Davin!”
He thought he’d heard someone call his name and his eyes came open. Turning his head to either side, he sat up.
“Myra?”
She dropped her skirt into the water, nearly losing her balance, the breath had gone out of her.
He stared for a moment, feeling his heartbeat return. “Myra.” He scrambled to his feet and bent down, taking her hand, helping her out of the water. “I thought you were a dream,” he finally said as she stepped up on the bank and fell into his arms.
Her wet dripping skirt attached itself to her legs, making her movements difficult, and she’d fallen into him. “I didn’t expect…”
“Me either…” He stepped away from the awkward embrace that wasn’t.
“I didn’t know you were here.” Her eyes searched his face for anything.
“I’ve been back for a month,” he answered.
“No, no, I meant here at the mill pond.” She knew the exact moment he had appeared in town.
“You’re all wet.” He felt himself drowning in the pond; he wasn’t coming up this time.
“I kept thinking one day you would come by, take that right fork in the road.”
“I couldn’t.”
“I know, I know.”
“You haven’t changed. You’re still beautiful, Myra.”
She couldn’t stand there looking at him, knowing every inch of his body, knowing him. She stepped forward, her arms going around his neck as his went around her waist. Pulling her tight against him, he kissed her.
“Oh, my God, Davin,” she gasped against his lips.
Thunder brought his head up. “It’s going to storm. We’d better…”
“The mill.”
“Are you sure?”
“More than anything.”
He looked into her eyes, took her hand, and they made a dash for it to the ruins. They knew exactly where to go. It was dirty now with years of disuse, the old mattress on the floor nearly threadbare and stained. It didn’t stop them. Familiar hands sought familiar places. She was on her back, arching toward him aching. When he filled her, tears escaped from her tightly-closed eyes. He was back. He was hers as he had always been hers.
“Myra!” he cried as he exploded into her and, gathering her in his arms, he rolled her over, kissing her face, her eyes, her tears, her lips. He was home.
Rain poured down through the roof, splashing near the couple wrapped together on the old mattress. “It didn’t used to rain in here,” he said, brushing her hair from her face and kissing her again.
“It’s been a long time since we were here.”
“Yes, it has. Twelve years ninety days, sixteen hours…” she placed her hand over his mouth.
“You don’t know that.”
“I bet I’m close. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I, I couldn’t. You’d stopped writing. I thought…”
“I couldn’t write. I’d been shipped out. We weren’t allowed. Mama wrote me.”
“I didn’t know! Oh, my God, I didn’t know, Davin!” She burst into tears.
“It all happened too fast. Wayne Seldon?”
“He, he offered,” she sniffed. "He said he’d take care of me.”
“When did you ever need somebody like that, Myra?”
“When I was pregnant with your baby. I lost it soon after we married.”
“I didn’t know. I never knew. Ah, shit, Myra, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Nobody knew. He made sure of that. I couldn’t tell you. I thought I’d lost you.”
Davin held her tightly, his own tears making streaks down his face. He rolled over on his back, feeling the rain splashing his body. Myra ran her hand down his chest to his naval. He was wet, wet with the rain, wet with sweat, wet from her body.
“I love you, Davin. I’ve never stopped loving you, never.”
He looked at her, touching her face with his fingertips. “I tried, tried to forget you. I couldn’t. I’ve been running in a circle.”
“It brought you back.”
“I think it did. Even Pa dying had nothing to do with it. I was meant to come back for you.”
“I never said I was sorry he died.” She traced a scar on his ribs.
“I didn’t expect you to. You were the only one who ever knew what he was.”
She looked up at his face, his beautiful face where she’d once tried to cover up bruises with her mother’s makeup.
“What are we going to do?” he asked quietly.
“We could run away,” she smiled. “Some foreign place where nobody could find us.”
“And live on rainwater and berries…Oh, Myra, those were dreams of ten and eleven year olds. It’s different now.”
“Yes, I know. I can’t hurt him. He’s been good to me, as well as he knows how to be.”
“But not as good as me!” He pulled her down on top of him, kissed her, running his hands up and down her back.
“Never.”
Night was threatening when they left the mill. They were filthy, satisfied and loved. “You can’t go home like this,” he said, leaning her against her car.
“I’ll go see Mama. I can call from there.”
“You don’t have a cell phone?”
“No, who would I call? Come with me. She loves you.”
“Not yet, but I will.” He kissed her forehead. “Go now before I drag you back in the mill.”
She waited until he’d backed his bike out of the trees and started off. Instead of going through town, he took a side road that would lead him out to the highway. He didn’t want them both emerging by the fire house. Lack of fires caused a lot of gossip.
“Mama,” Myra stood on her mother’s doorstep.
“Where in the world have you been? Look at you!”
“The mill.” She walked into the house. “I need to call Wayne.”
“You’ve been at the mill? Whatever…oh…!”
“Yes, I met him by accident there.” Myra reached for the phone while her mama gave her the once over.
“Wayne, I thought I’d let you know I’m at Mama’s. I’ll be home shortly. Yes, I will, bye.”
“He says hello,” she said. “Okay if I take a shower?”
“Sure, give me your clothes. I’ll see what I can do with them.” Myra took her daughter’s clothes to the sink and rinsed them out, the thin little dress and panties should dry quickly. She tossed them in the dryer.
Sylvia Boise knew it would only be a matter of time with Myra and Davin. They’d been together since they were kids. They were fated to be together. She’d never approved of Wayne, even though it appeared he stepped in to do the right thing and save her daughter’s reputation. She knew Myra and, given the chance, she’d be with Davin no matter what.
She still felt if Myra hadn’t married him and had stayed home with her she wouldn’t have lost that baby. The child had been an emotional wreck from the time Davin left. Being a single mother herself ,she knew what Myra would have faced, but look where she was now.
Myra, wrapped in her mother’s robe, went to the fridge for a glass of tea.
“Myra, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’d better be careful.”
Myra turned. “I have no idea what I’m going to do yet, but Davin and I are okay together. We’re still in love. Oh, Mama, I’ve screwed it all up!” Her face came apart, weeping. Sylvia took her in her arms and comforted her.
“You just did what you thought you had to. Does Wayne have any idea?”
“No, I swear today was the first time I’ve seen him since he got back.”
“I was at the funeral but I didn’t get to talk to him. I felt so sorry for his mama. What that woman has been through.”
“That’s all over now.”
“There never was a man meaner than Wendel Hart. You be careful around Wayne.”
“Wayne’s never lifted a finger, Mama. That would show emotion. Sometimes I wish he would just so I’d know there was something alive inside of him.”
“Don’t go wishing nothing like that, but you remember still waters run deep.”
“I love you, Mama,” she said, getting in her dry clothes before she ran to her car to go home to Wayne.
Part 3:
“Davin, that you?” his mother called from the living room.
“Yeah, Mama. Who else did you think it was?” He pulled off his wet boots and left them by the door, hearing canned laughter coming from the TV.
“I worry about you off on that bike and it raining.”
“I’m okay, Mama, just going for a shower.”
“I kept you a plate in the oven. Gave up waiting.”
“Sorry about that. I didn’t think.” He stopped in the doorway.
“Oh, look at you! I think, yes, you could use a shower, she smiled at him. Nobody in the world knew how much she loved that boy.
Davin took the steps two at a time. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a tee shirt he went into the bathroom. He soaped and stood under the water, letting it run over his body. It was inevitable that he should run into Myra but he hadn’t expected this. She’d married Wayne Seldon and he'd thought that was that. That was never that. He couldn’t take her and run away; he couldn’t leave his mother alone. He couldn’t leave Myra alone. He wanted her with everything he had. She was his in a way she would never belong to anyone else.
Myra parked her car in the detached garage and picked up her bag from the drug store. As she came through the back door, the house felt like an oven. The TV was on in the living room so she walked to the door. “I’m back.”
Wayne turned and looked at her. “I see you are. Took your time, didn’t you? How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. We had a glass of tea and talked for awhile. I saw Sarah Brown. Henry’s got another ear infection.”
Wayne switched off the TV. “I’m ready for bed. You coming?”
“I just got home.”
“I know but it’s after 9:30, thirty minutes past my bedtime. Didn’t think about that when you were visiting your mama, did you?”
“I guess the time got away from us.” She turned and walked back to the kitchen and he followed her, peeking in the bag she left on the table.
“What’s this?”
“Nail polish. What does it look like.”
“You don’t wear polish.”
“I always wore polish, always, until I moved out here.”
He stared at her a minute. “I’m going to bed. I’d like some company.”
Myra pulled the box of Tampax out of the bag. “Sorry ,not tonight.”
Wayne turned and went up the stairs.
“Do you want the fan?” she called after him. “Guess not.” She unplugged it and took it to the living room, placing it so it hit her while she sat and looked at her magazine. She planned to polish her toenails once he settled in for the night. She stared at the magazine, listening to his movements upstairs in the bedroom. How could he wear pajamas on a hot night like this? Once the house was quiet except for the whirring of the fan, she polished her toenails dark red and then walked out on the front porch and sat in the swing. Closing her eyes, she relived every moment at the mill.
Upstairs Wayne tossed and turned in the hot bedroom. The storm had not cooled things down, only added to the humidity. It wasn’t the heat that bothered him, it was Myra. He knew Davin was back. He also knew it had been thirteen days since her last period.
He woke at his usual time of 5:30 the next morning, alone in the bed. He ran down the stairs and found her asleep in her clothes on the sofa with fan going. He stood over her, breathing hard, the fear leaving him for the moment. He leaned against the doorway until he could breathe normally again then went back upstairs and shaved, showered and dressed for the day. He would take it one day at a time. She was still here, he told himself, she was here.
Myra woke on the sofa feeling damp and groggy. It was Wayne trying to be quiet in the kitchen. She got up and went in there. “I’ll do that,” she said. taking the carton of eggs from him.
“I was going to let you sleep in this morning. Sorry if I woke you.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s too hot to sleep anyway.” She placed the strips of bacon in the frying pan and turned, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“I’m going into town today and see about getting the air conditioner fixed. I thought I could fix it myself but I don’t seem to have the time.”
“It takes professionals to do that, probably needs some Freon or something.” She wondered why it had taken two months for him to realize he couldn’t fix it.
“Any biscuits left from yesterday?”
“No, I threw them out.”
“Toast will be fine. I like toast.” He was nervous around her this morning, jumpy, unlike himself.
Myra glanced at him, “Juice?”
“Yeah, put some ice in it.” He waited at the table for her to serve him. As she walked back to the stove he noticed her toenails. He ran his hand over his face, feeling the moisture.
“I thought we might ride over to Caughman this evening.”
“For what?” she asked, placing a plate in front of him.
“I don’t know, something to do, I guess. Maybe there’s a show you want to see.”
Myra stopped at the sink and turned on the cold water, running it over her hands. “We’ll see. You might not feel like it by then.” He never took her to Caughman.
“We’ll see,” he repeated, eating his breakfast.
Myra sat down at the table after he left and picked up a piece of toast, nibbling around the edges. He knows.
Davin rolled over in his bed and looked at the ceiling, the same ceiling he’d looked at all his life until he’d left home. He’d looked at a lot of ceilings since then. He still had a life under one of them. Would he ever see it again? He hadn’t known how bad of a shape his mother was in. His father had dismissed her stroke and as long as she could make it to the stove, he didn’t put much thought into anything else. He closed his eyes. He should have come home. He should have done a lot of things. He had a book to finish.
One thing he’d taken care of was getting someone to come clean the house, do the laundry and cook. His mother had protested she could still get around and do her work, but he’d noticed the change in her since Bessie had started coming for a few hours a day. Her color was better, she wasn’t so tired and drained all the time. He took her into town to get her hair done once a week. It was the very least he could do.
He had taken another man’s wife. He sat up on the side of his bed. No…Myra was his. He pulled on his shorts and went downstairs. His mother had taken over the back parlor as her bedroom since the stroke. Davin had repaired the door so it closed and gave her a bit of privacy. Somewhere in the house the phone rang. He heard her answer it. Bessie had made pancakes and he helped himself.
“That was Sylvia Boise. I always liked her, Davin.”
“What did she want?” he asked from his plate of pancakes.
“Just called to see how I was, see if she could do anything, you know.” His mother sat down at the table.
“Are you eating? Can I get you a plate?”
“Oh, son, I’ve already eaten. You’re late getting up. It's going nine o’clock. Is that what you do in the city, sleep half a day?”
Davin smiled, “Sometimes I do.”
“I’ll be glad to see your new book come out. I’m so proud of you. I don’t say it much but I want you to know that.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she smiled her crooked smile.
Davin swallowed, “The lawyer says we can go ahead and put the garage up for saleThat should bring you a little cash.”
“I’ll be glad to see it go,” she said, looking toward the back door. “Glad to see it go,” she repeated. The last remaining thing to remind her of Wendel. Davin had wasted no time clearing out the house and outbuildings. “Maybe somebody local will buy it? People still need a place to get their cars fixed.”
“Nobody around here has that kind of money,” he said, drinking his coffee.
She looked at him. “Wayne Seldon does. I’m not telling you what to do, Davin, but be careful.”
“I always am,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
Part 4:
Myra hung the last of the wet laundry on the line and took the clothes basket on her hip, walking toward the vegetable garden. She’d been watching the road. He hadn’t gone out today. She wanted more than anything to get in her car and ride to the forks, take the left turn and go see Mrs. Hart. His mother was a sweet woman and they had something in common…they both loved Davin.
She shaded her eyes, looking toward the fields. Wayne was still plowing. She bit her lip and guessed he wouldn’t be going into town to see about the damn air conditioner today. There wouldn’t be a trip to Caughman, either. There wouldn’t be anything…ever.
She picked tomatoes and zucchini, a cantaloupe, placing them in the clothes basket. Back inside she made a pitcher of lemonade, picked up the nail polish from the old dresser, went into the living room where the fan was still rotating and polished her fingernails.
Davin looked up, hearing the car stop in front of the house. He didn’t recognize the car but he knew the woman. She still wore her hair dyed blond, cut short and fluffed on top. He opened the door.
“Oh, Davin, how are you, darling?” She kissed him on the cheek.
“Ms. Boise, I’m fine. Good to see you. Come in.” He held the door.
“Feels good in here. It’s another hot one. Is your mama around?” Sylvia thought he looked as good as ever.
Davin walked down the hall a few steps. “Mama, you got company.”
“She’ll be glad to see you, I know.”
“I’ve been meaning to come out ever since the funeral. I got a day off today.”
Davin turned, hearing the sound of his mother’s cane on the hardwood floors. “I’ll leave you ladies to it,” he smiled.
Sylvia would have loved to talk to him about Myra but she smiled, hugging Jean Hart. “I brought you something,” she said, walking into the living room with her.
Davin went back to the dining room and his laptop. He was having a hard time writing here. There were too many memories, too many things he wanted to forget. There was also Myra less than two miles from where he sat and he couldn’t go to her.
He was interrupted by Ms. Boise coming in to say good bye
She stooped and hugged him around the neck. “Myra?” he asked.
Sylvia pulled back and looked into his pain-filled eyes. “Friday, she comes into town alone on Fridays,” she whispered. Sylvia left quickly after that, getting into her car and sitting for a moment. What had she done?
Myra was on the porch swing fanning herself with the People magazine and drinking lemonade. The car came up the dirt road and stopped for a minute then turned toward Wayne’s house. She recognized he mother’s car. At least one of us can go down there she thought.
“Mama, this is a surprise.” Her mother rarely came out to see her.
“Yes, well, I was down to see Jean Hart. Why are you out here in this heat?”
“There’s no air conditioning. He doesn’t have time to go into town and see about getting it fixed.”
“For two months? Honey, he doesn’t have to go anywhere. All he has to do is pick up the phone and call. Alfred would be out here in no time. Why don’t you call?” Sylvia sat down on the swing with her daughter and took a sip of her lemonade.
“It’s not my house, Mama. I’m not supposed to take care of things like that. Do you want a glass of lemonade?”
“No, no, I’m not staying, I just wanted to…” She looked her daughter in the eye. “I’ve put my foot in it. I told Davin you came into town on Fridays by yourself. Lord, Myra, please be careful.”
Myra smiled, sitting back on the swing. “Friday…you work on Friday, don’t you?”
“I don’t want no cars around my house, you understand me, Myra, no cars.”
After Sylvia left Myra went into the hot kitchen and made a salad for dinner, adding left over bacon crumbled over the top.
Friday morning as was his custom Wayne handed Myra a one hundred dollar bill. He had been doing this for twelve years. This was her allowance. She was to buy gas for her car and groceries out of that money. No allowance had ever been made for inflation. If she needed anything else she had to ask for the money and tell him what it was for. At first Myra was impressed. A hundred dollars was a lot of money to her. Over the years it became less and less impressive. There was very little left of Wayne Seldon that impressed her anymore.
She parked her car on the main street and looked around for the bike, having heard it go out as she was getting dressed. She was almost giddy as she locked her car and stepped up on the sidewalk. He was here somewhere. She walked to the end of the street where her mother had her tiny beauty salon and popped in to say hello. There were several ladies getting various things done to their heads. She spoke to them and, smiling, hugged her mama. Sylvia gave her a sharp look as she hugged her back.
Comments followed her out of the door. “Don’t she look pretty today. She’s always been a beauty. You done yourself proud there, Sylvie”
As she stepped out on the sidewalk she walked to the edge of the building and stopped. He was there leaning against a tree, waiting. He signaled her to follow him behind the building where he had his bike parked at the rear of Sylvia’s salon. As soon as she cleared the corner he grabbed her up in his arms, kissing her nearly breathless.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
“Davin, Davin, darling.”
He rolled his bike away from the building. “Hop on.”
“Let’s go to Mama’s.” She clasped him around the waist, her head laying on his back.
He parked his bike in her mother’s garage and they ran hand in hand like two children to the back door. Breathless, laughing, intensely aware of each other, they entered the house and down the hall to her old bedroom. Hours passed. They couldn’t get enough of each other. Then she heard the clock striking the hour from her mother’s living room.
“Oh, my God! It’s three o’clock!” She rolled over in the bed.
“What happens at three?” he asked, tracing her nipple with his finger.
“I have to be home by four and I haven’t bought groceries.”
“Don’t buy groceries, don’t do anything. Oh, God, Myra!” He buried his head in her shoulder.
“I know, Davin, I know. The mill. We can meet at the mill.” They devised a plan since Myra went to the mailbox every day. If the flag was up she could go, if it was down she couldn’t make it.
Myra ran through the grocery store, throwing things in her buggy, not really even caring anymore. She arrived home at 4:10. Wayne was waiting to help her bring in the groceries.
“You’re late,” he said, stepping off the back porch.
“Ten minutes, that’s all. Why does it matter?” she said, opening the trunk.
“What is this?” He looked through the bags, pulling out a box of cereal.
“Cereal,” she answered, not even looking.
“We don’t eat cereal. Why did you buy cereal?”
“I wanted some. I like cereal. I’m tired of bacon and eggs for breakfast. I’ve had bacon and eggs every day for twelve years. I’m tired of it.”
“You’re tired of it?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes and looking at her as she stuffed cans in the cabinet. He turned and walked out of the kitchen.
That night he approached her again when she was getting ready for bed.
“It’s been a week. You aren’t on your period. The box of tampons is still in the bathroom unopened.”
“I don’t know how you can even think about it in this oven of a bedroom. It must be a hundred degrees in here.”
“The heat doesn’t bother me. I’m used to it. I work in it all day. Come on,” he said, pulling the covers back and lying down in the bed.”
“Well, it bothers me. Why won’t you call and get it fixed?”
“We aren’t talking about an air conditioner. I want you in bed.”
“I’m not in the mood. It’s this heat,” she tried.
“I don’t care whether you’re in the mood or not!” He got up and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the bed.
Myra lay in a wash of tears as he moved above her. She hated him then, hated him.
He rolled off and went to sleep. Myra got up and went down the hall to the bathroom, standing in the shower, scrubbing herself and crying. When she’d finished, she put on a thin night gown and went downstairs to the living room and turned on the fan. She slept fitfully on the sofa.
Part 5:
Monday the flag was up. Myra gathered an old blanket and a few other things and placed them in the trunk of her car. Once at the mill she cleaned up their place and covered the old mattress with the blanket. She heard his bike and ran down the stone steps through the wisteria vines.
“Davin!” She grabbed him.
“Whoa, girl!” he said, laughing. “I brought a couple of drinks.” He had a little insulated bag with soft drinks and peanuts with him.
They made love and swam in the pond then made love again on the old blanket-covered mattress. Several days went by with the flag up. Myra was always back home to prepare dinner for Wayne. Since he’d forcefully taken her to bed, she began sleeping on the sofa. He hadn’t said anything about it but it burned inside of him.
Two days went by and the flag was down. Myra did her laundry and cleaned the stifling hot house as best she could. She cooked for Wayne and tried to keep her routine in check. Her mind was in turmoil. How long could this go on?
Friday came along and she went into town, met Davin, and to her mother’s house again. They lay in each other’s arms, savoring the aftermath. “Davin, I’m going to ask him for a divorce. I can’t go on like this.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. This is crazy, Myra. Why don’t you get your things and come to my house? Mama would understand. She always loved you.” He kissed her shoulder. “I worry about you in that house with him. It damn near kills me to think he puts his hands on you. You’re mine.”
“I am yours. I belong to you and you to me. Since I was eight years old there’s never been anyone but you in my life. You were my friend and then my lover. I hate myself for what I did.” Hot tears seeped from her eyes.
“Don’t you hate yourself. I love you, I love you!” he murmured against her lips.
Wayne was plowing up near the highway and as he turned he saw the mail truck stop at his box, pull away, and stop again, motioning for him to come over. He turned off his tractor and climbed down.
“Hate to bother you Wayne but I thought I’d let you know somebody is playin’ with your mailbox. I don’t know o’course if they’re stealing mail, but I find the flag up and nothing to pick up. Just thought I’d let you know so’s you can keep an eye out. Federal offense, you know, stealin’ mail.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll watch out, ‘preciate it.”
Wayne thought he would ask Myra about that when she got home since she usually went to the mailbox. Then a thought hit him and he decided to watch it for a few days. He sat on his tractor for awhile before starting it up again.
Sunday afternoon after a big dinner Wayne moved to the living room and turned on the TV. Myra cleaned the kitchen, sweat dripping from her face. She was going to do it. She wiped her face with a damp paper towel and walked to the doorway.
“Wayne, I want to talk to you.”
“Talk away,” he said, not turning from the TV.
“I, I can’t stay here. This is not working, I, I want a divorce.”
Wayne was silent, staring at the TV. He showed no emotion though his guts were turning. “No.”
“No…Wayne, I don’t want to be married to you any longer. I want a divorce.”
“No, Seldon’s don’t divorce.” He turned and looked at her. “You should have thought about that.” He got up and left the house.
Myra beat the wall and cried out.
Monday morning she went to the mail box, put the flag up, got back in her car and took off down the highway. A little later Wayne heard the bike coming up the road. He paused in the field and watched Davin stop at the mail box then ride in the same direction down the highway. Wayne felt as though he’d been kicked in the balls. He knew exactly where they went. He’d watched them as a teenager in their little love nest writhing on the floor. He started his tractor.
They sat on a rock, their naked bodies glistening with water droplets. He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “I can come and get you. I don’t give a shit.”
“No, no, I’ll do it by myself. I’ll pack my car in the morning. I’ll go to Mama’s. I didn’t want to do it this way.”
“I know you didn’t. It would have been better if he’d been reasonable. I really didn’t expect it, did you?”
“No, he won’t budge, Davin." She turned, catching his lips with hers.
“I’ll come for you at your Mama’s. I got to talk to my mama and explain some things to her. She’ll understand. She knows how it is with us. I think she’ll come to Raleigh. I got a little house there. It’s gonna be all right, Myra. We’ll make it happen.” Their arms went around each other and they slipped off the rock into the pond, coming up gasping for air and laughing, then they came together again.
Davin approached his mother after dinner. “Mama, I need to tell you something. I’m gonna ask something of you.”
“Anything ,Davin. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s Myra. You know how it is with us. She’s asked Wayne for a divorce and he won’t give it. She’s gonna leave him in the morning. I’m gonna to take her to Raleigh and I want you to come, too. I got room.”
Jean Hart stared at him a minute. “Davin, you can’t do this.”
“I can, Mama, and I am. I love her more than life. We have to be together. I can’t leave you here by yourself so I want you to come, too.”
“No, no, I won’t leave. You do what you have to, son, but this is my home. This was my daddy’s house. I can’t leave.”
“Mama, you can’t take care of yourself and I can’t stay here.”
“Well…Bessie helps me. I’ll be all right. Don’t worry about me.”
“But what if something happened at night? There’s nobody here. I can’t leave you.”
“I can get Bessie to move upstairs. She doesn’t have any family left. I’m not going anywhere, Davin, but you…oh, son, what you’re about to do…”
“Will you call Bessie…now…please?”
Jean took him in her arms and held him, crying softly for him. “I’ll call her. Get me the phone.”
“She can come?” he asked as his mother hung up the phone.
“Yes, said it would be a few days for her to get things situated.”
“I don’t have a few days!” he cried. “I can bring her here, I can do that.” He ran his hand over his face.
“Davin,” she said softly, “you’re about to come undone. Slow down, minute by minute, hour by hour, it’s going to get better.”
Myra woke on the sofa before daylight. She’d hardly slept at all knowing what she had before her. She heard him in the kitchen and for once did not get up to help. They had not spoken a word to each other since she’d asked him for a divorce on Sunday. There were only a few things in the house she wanted, her pictures, her clothes and Davin’s book. She’d written in the book between the printed lines. Passages she recognized, she’d written her memories beneath his.
She got up when the back door shut and ran up the stairs, took a shower and dressed. She tugged the suitcase from the hall closet and opened it on the bed, quickly throwing her things inside. She pulled Davin’s book from beneath the mattress, added it and zipped up the bag. She heard the back door close and slid the bag underneath the bed.
She came down the stairs and noticed right away he wasn’t dressed in his overalls. He wasn’t plowing today.
“I’m going into town and see about the air conditioning,” he said, moving toward the back door.
She felt a sigh of relief. This was even better.
“I’m taking your car.” He walked out of the door and she ran after him.
“But…I was gonna use it!” He slammed the car door and started the motor. Backing out of the drive he headed up the road. Myra closed the back door and burst into tears.
Wayne stopped at the mailbox and put the flag up.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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