Ham by Dustin Stevens

Author:Dustin Stevens [Stevens, Dustin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty

The chill of the early morning picks at my wet hair as I step outside onto the porch. A week into September, the overnight lows are already starting to dip, easily the coolest temperatures I have experienced in years. Goose pimples line my arms as I walk to the edge of the front porch and extend my hands high overhead. Lacing my fingers, I lengthen my spine, letting the pose lift me onto my toes.

On the horizon, the first faint glow of sunrise is just visible. Passing through the thick tangle of forest surrounding the spread, long shadows play across everything. The dew lying heavy on the ground shines slightly.

In just a few minutes, the entire world will be aglow, the moisture reflecting the bright light like a thousand tiny crystals.

“How was your workout?” Glenda asks. Opening the screen door just far enough to push the left side of her body through, she stands with it pressed against a shoulder.

A woven cardigan sweater covers her top half, hanging open in the middle. The sleeves are a couple of inches too long, covering the palms of her hands, fingers wrapped around a hand-fired mug.

“Sorry,” I reply. “Was trying to be quiet.”

“You were,” Glenda replies. “I was awake and heard you head out.”

The space was what we referred to as a gym, though it was much closer to a scene from Rocky than 24 Hour Fitness. Sectioned off from the haymow in the top of the barn, the place has a speed bag, a heavy bag, and a pull-up bar. Free weights that were manufactured at some point in the sixties. A treadmill that is self-powered, using rollers and manpower to last as long as the person on it.

Reclining my head slightly, I counter, “Doesn’t look like the place has gotten much use lately.”

“It hasn’t,” Glenda replies. “We put a new one in the bunkhouse when we built it. New equipment, fans, electricity. You should check it out.”

The thought borders on repulsive. Just considering it, I can imagine the gyms in places like LA or San Diego, sitting right on the street, sun-bleached Barbies in spandex and makeup riding elliptical machines for everybody that drives by to see. Water fountains and vending machines every fifteen feet. The constant distraction of music or television.

No thanks.

Give me an empty barn and the smells of alfalfa and horse shit anytime.

“I’ll do that.”

A crooked half smile pulls back part of her mouth, the wry grin letting me know she doesn’t believe that for a second. “I like your hair that way.”

I flick a glance to the wet tendrils swinging free along the side of my face. With it like this, the shaved portion of my head is hidden from view. For the brief time I choose to leave it hanging down, one can’t tell I don’t have a full mane.

“Thanks.”

Once more she looks at me, staring as if taking things in for the first time. “In a little while, I need to make another supply run.

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