Father and Son by Larry Brown

Author:Larry Brown [Brown, Larry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Contemporary, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781616202064
Publisher: Owl Books
Published: 1991-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Virgil was sitting on the front porch working on one of his reels, an old Zebco 33 on a taped-up Eagle Claw rod that he’d owned for twenty years. He’d pulled the handle off and had been squirting some sewing machine oil behind the shaft to try and get it to work a little smoother. The line was strung out between his knees and the front face of the reel was lying on the porch when he heard the car coming down the road.

The Redbone puppy raised his head from his front paws beside him as the crunching of the gravel got louder. The blue Buick was slowing down and then it seemed to make a quick decision and pulled into the yard. Mary drew up beside the porch with the driver’s side closest to him. He stopped what he was doing and put the rod and the reel down. She was smiling a shy smile and she asked him if he wanted to take a little ride. He got up for his cigarettes and then went down the steps to the car.

There was a place on the back side of her land. A POSTED sign that guarded a wire gap that stayed chained and locked. It was dark enough to use the headlights to guide them through the sunken woods’ road littered with leaves that whispered under the tires. At the top of a small hill she pulled into a clearing where the trees were spread out a little and there was room enough to see the sky. She shut off the lights and the motor and they got out. She opened the trunk for him and he got out the quilt.

In near full dark he stood holding her and opened the buttons of her dress to find her naked beneath it as always in the past. He knelt in the pooled fabric of her dress at her feet and kissed her stomach while she held his head in her hands. Tree frogs were singing and through the trees the faint flare of fireflies moved slowly in the air. And she lowered herself to him with the moon beginning to come up through the trees. It hung there for a long time, soft rays shining down among the leaves.

When the dust she’d left had settled over the road, he eased back into his chair and the puppy came over. He petted him. The puppy whined and nuzzled deeper into his hand. The sound of the crickets came back, lulling him in the cooling evening air and taking him back to the last time he had made love to her, in the dark of a hot summer night, beneath that old oak tree, in 1941.

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