Pottery Town Blues: Short Stories by Karen Kotrba

Author:Karen Kotrba [Kotrba, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Bottom Dog Press
Published: 2022-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

“So, what do you think?” Tess asked him, when he strolled through the back door. She was standing at the kitchen counter assembling a salad. “Did you get a good look around?”

“Yeah, I drove around awhile. Ended up at that big outdoor sale at—where is it?—Rogers?”

“Oh, Jeez,” Tess laughed. “This is Friday, isn’t it? Bet it was packed.”

“It seemed crowded, yeah.” And then, as if one thought logically led to the other, he added, “Think I’m going to get a job. Somebody said they’re hiring at that Lots & Lots store.”

Knife poised over a tomato, Tess stopped and cocked her head in his direction. “You like tomatoes on your salad?” He nodded and she began slicing. “A job would be good. Be a good way to meet people and get settled in.”

Josh thought about going to his room to listen to some music, but he didn’t want to be rude. They’d driven south in their separate cars last night, stopping for dinner on their way only after they were out of Cuyahoga County, but they’d both been quiet. In the morning he’d slept late, and then had only seen his aunt for a few minutes before she left for work.

“I hope you’ll give people a chance, Josh,” Tess said. “I know it’s been difficult with your dad’s death and all, but this, moving here, this could be a new start for you. You could rest here. No, I don’t mean rest.” She frowned. “I don’t mean that you’re tired, physically tired, I just mean… look.” She scooped sliced tomatoes into her hands and dropped them onto the greens that already filled a large bowl, a salad mammoth enough to feed far more than just the two of them. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to him.

“Josh, I’m not good at talking about things, I guess, but I just want to say that I hope you’ll give this a chance. If we can both be positive about it, see it as the start of new possibilities…. Well, it’ll be better than if we don’t.” The look on her face told him she wasn’t satisfied with what she was saying or how she was saying it. “Do you see what I’m trying to say?”

He wished she’d stopped talking. What good are words? They never fix anything. Ever since his dad died, everybody talked at him, asking about his feelings and what he’d like to do, where he’d like to live, as if he had any say in the matter. His dad was never like this. The two of them never had to stand around talking and talking. Josh sat down at the little oak table in Tess’ bright, cheery kitchen and noticed that since this morning she had moved a stack of books and papers off the table to make room for him. He watched as she added diced chicken to the salad and topped it with croutons.

“You want to find us something to watch on TV,” his aunt asked.

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