Cry Me a River by T. R. Pearson

Author:T. R. Pearson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barking Mad Press
Published: 2011-09-18T18:48:56+00:00

5

My brother claims to enjoy an ever so profitable affiliation with a fabricator in the Roanoke valley, which is his way anymore of saying he works for an outfit up near Salem that manufactures angle irons, stamps them from sheet, bores them with a press, and wraps them on a card in plastic. My brother gives out that he serves a key function in the marketing division of his fabricator, is uninclined to tell plain that he sells for a living angle irons, carries a box of them in his trunk and a board with samples screwed to it. He wasn't raised to be ashamed of working as an angle iron salesman but has lately been persuaded to put on airs and cultivate pretensions, married a woman from Staunton who believes herself descended from an actual baronet and requires for a mate a fellow not merely employed but affiliated.

Clarice didn't prove at the outset the jackass she was ordained to become, managed to make upon our mother a favorable impression and seemed as well an agreeable enough sort of a girl to me. But that was prior to her transformation, before she'd traced her bloodlines back. Her father was a barber, or Clarice at first was willing to allow as much though once her fascination with her royal blood took hold he was given out presently as a stylist instead prior to graduating to coiffeur outright. Clarice's mother suffered from unspecified complaints and, as a manner of avocation, languished in the bed where I was taken in advance of the wedding service to make her acquaintance since she did not believe she possessed the strength to travel to the sanctuary. She was reclining atop the covers in an elegant chiffon robe, was settled in a nest of throw pillows and had dolled herself up with trinkets and rouge. Constitutional decline appeared in fact to agree with her fairly well, and I recall she lifted with grace her fingers for me to take up and clutch, told me how awfully divine it was to have occasion to meet me and then acknowledged her failing condition with a seemly little cough.

Clarice and my brother lived for a time in a duplex out towards Cave Spring, got on pretty much after the fashion of regular people all over while my brother learned the ins and outs of the angle iron game, traveled about with his box and his board and began to cement his affiliation. Clarice was obliged there at the first to seek employment as well and managed even to hold for a bit a job at the shopping plaza, worked I recall at the Rexall where she was put upon to make herself polite and accommodating which Clarice was not afflicted with much disposition for. I seem to recall she got in a fight with a woman about an ointment and made, as was her custom, a couple of rash, unsavory remarks that the pharmacist got wind of and confronted her about and so earned for himself more hard talk than he was inclined to endure.

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