The Long Summer by Rod Rayborne

Author:Rod Rayborne [Rayborne, Rod]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781078019675
Published: 2019-07-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty Three

H e sat on the old wooden porch in a tall, rattan backed rocking chair. Beside him lay Ol' Blue, a mutt colored Rhodesian Ridgeback, grunting in sleep, as old dogs will.

The man took a beat up pipe out of his shirt pocket and examined the empty bowl with disgust. Holding it by the stem, he turned it over in his hand and beat it against his left palm, knocking out the leafy remnants. After blowing it out, he pulled the little sleeve of blueberry flavored tobacco out of the same pocket, refilled the bowl, tamped it down with a finger, placed the stem between his lips and held his hand over it against the breeze, lighting it once more. He puffed on it, letting the smoke slip between his lips in small puffs. Then he pulled the pipe away and stared out at the gray expanse of ocean before him.

The dim light was imperfectly reflected in his bleary, cataract covered eyes. He wished now he'd had the surgery done when he'd had the chance, but he contented himself with the knowledge that he probably didn't have much longer to live anyway. And his eyes could still make out most things well enough to get around, feed himself and keep the house up.

Blue's eyes were worse. He had been afflicted with cataracts as well but he'd also had the misfortune of being outside during the big flash. What cataracts began, the flash finished. Now he spent most of his time shuffling around, bumping into things and sleeping. But he never complained about his new handicap and by golly neither would his old man.

The screen door banged closed behind a much younger man carrying a towel. He wiped his hands on it, walking towards the old man. Stopping next to the rocking chair, he looked out at the horizon, wondering what the old man could see. He looked down watching the old man's gaze. Probably not much, he decided.

"I got that drain pipe fixed, Pops," he said. "You want me to tackle the shower next or the refuse pile out back?"

"Neither, Derek. They can wait. Why don't you pull up a chair and have a sit down with me. I haven't had much in the way of conversation since Millie passed. I'm dying for a little back and forth."

Eager for a break, Derek walked across the porch, grabbed another tall backed chair and plopped down next to the old man's rocker. Blue lifted his head wearily and pretended to look at Derek then dropped it again onto his paws.

"What's up Pop?" he asked, searching the old man's face. "Hope we're not wearing out our welcome."

"Nothing like that, Derek. You'll always be welcome here, you and Suzy. Where is she, by the way?"

"Whipping up a dessert of some kind, last I checked. Using a few of your eggs. I hope that's ok."

"Fine, fine. She's a wonderful cook, Derek. You're awfully lucky to have her. If I was a few years younger…"

"Thankfully for me, you're not.

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