Well, when Carl come home he was real quiet, dint even come up to the house at first, just stood there by the rho'dendrons at the end of the drive til Mabel saw him out the window. Quick as a whip, she fetched him up to the kitchen, fussin and carryin on.
We was gettin ready for church but of course we dint go. Mabel weren't satisfied til she saw him eat three eggs some ham and grits too. She made up a pot of strong coffee and we sat there, watchin Carl eat, tellin him how glad we was to see him and catchin him up on everythin he'd missed. We dint ask Carl any questions about where he'd been. He had that same look that tramps have when they pass by lookin fer work, kinda ragged around the edges but still respectful. He ate real slow and dignified, like maybe he weren't used to eatin in front of other people.
After Carl ate his fill, we sat out back in the resin chairs, just the two of us. Everythin was bright and warm, and we was real quiet. We could hear Mabel singin inside as she cleared the table, and sheets from yesterday's washin was bouncin up and down on the line like they was little clouds. We settled into the sound of those sheets brushin against each other and the dishes rattlin in the kitchen, kinda settin ourselves down to wait. It was real peaceful.
I dint know what we was waitin on, egzackly, but when Carl started cryin I got real embarrassed and figure that must'a been it. I fiddled in my pocket for my pipe but being Sunday it weren't there. It dint seem right to say nothin, just then, so we both just stared out at the pasture and the highway beyond it. The cars drive off real fast and then go slower the farther they get away from you, gettin smaller and slower as they crawl around the black sweep of asphalt and up over the ridge.
When Mabel finally come out it was like a thunderbolt. She declared we must be the two most engagin conversationalists in the country, then stood lookin out over the land as if she was sizin it up, talkin all the time about how nice it was today, but the rain was sure to come just when we dint want it. Some new contentment had come into her voice, I thought. She told Carl him he ought to get himself a proper haircut, in that same pleased tone, real happy. As she she said it she was pullin up another chair and without drawin a breath she proceeded to talk us straight through til supper time, spurred on a bit by occasional grunts from us menfolk.
It was as if a government dam had burst somewheres upstream, and years of rainwater came rushin down the valley. She looked like one of them women in the picture shows with the sun shinin through the little hairs around her face and with her hands so happy, fluttering up from her lap now and then to make a point. But Mabel was really sendin us a signal, that by her estimation, everythin was ok, everythin that had been thrown up in the air was settlin' down now. She had ceased to worry and instead was pullin deep swigs from the jug of relief.
Later, we lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Mabel asked me what I thought had happened to Carl and her voice sounded small in the darkness. I thought about that afternoon, watchin him silently weeping in the sun, nothin movin on him but those tears slidin slowly down. I thought about the woman beside me and reached for her hand under the covers.
I told her about how fine Carl had behaved, growin up, and how strong he was. I told her how much better he seemed after a hot meal and some good conversation. I reckoned he would tell us his story when he was good and ready, and I reckoned she was just the right woman for the job of nursin our son back to health.
I dint say what I thought might break a man like Carl or what I thought were the odds of him stayin on with us and gettin back on his feet. They dint seem real good. But Mabel squeezed my hand and I know she understood.
Her understandin was always a mystery to me, always had been. When I looked for it, it went away, covered up by her chatter and her little ways. But when life produced a real quandry, Mabel's understandin rose up like fog from the creek bottoms, creepin along the fields by night. Hard times, I could always feel that soft mist on my face. She surrounded me, surrounded all of us – me, Carl, our house, the town, and even the great motorway with its alien circulation. That's where Carl had gone: away on the black highway, and she comprehended even that, bearin up under it like it was a stripe on her back.
The sky was gettin light at one end by the time I drifted off to sleep, dreamin about what it meant to be share a life with such a woman.
Posted by nickles at September 4, 2007 07:36 AM | TrackBack