Watershed by Mark Barr

Author:Mark Barr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hub City Press
Published: 2019-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

The storm-cooled evening brought the boarding house men out to smoke on the veranda. The group of them were lined along the porch railing when Freitag dropped him off. They had been joking but they quieted as he came up the walk. Nathan felt the collective weight of their eyes, but they said nothing to him and he said nothing back. Inside the lamps had been lit and through the open front window he saw Irma and Claire clearing the table. He figured it was probably best to avoid Irma after missing the meal she’d prepared for him, so he retreated to the far end of the porch and took out his cigarettes.

After a bit the men began to talk again in low voices and he did his best to ignore them. There was a sudden change in the tenor of the porch talk, a shift to laughter, and Nathan looked up. It was Tom, Claire’s son, coming up the path, a scowl directed at the laughing men. The boy was soaked through from the rain.

“Shut up, you bunch of monkeys,” Nathan said. He went to the door and called inside. “Mrs. Dixon?”

Claire came to the door, a dish rag in her hands.

“Tom?” Claire said. Now it was her turn to scowl. “Tom, what are you doing in town?”

“Gran sent me. She said to fetch you.”

“In a storm? Is everything okay? Is Nan hurt?”

“No, ma’am. Nan is fine,” the boy said. “It wasn’t raining when I started out. It caught up to me, though.”

“I’d say it did.” Claire stepped back, getting a better look at him. “What’s the matter? You’re acting all sullen on me.”

“Gran wanted to know when you were planning to visit again,” Tom said.

Claire glanced up at Nathan, and then at the gathered men. She lowered her voice, “What?”

Irma called from the kitchen, “Claire! These dishes are backing up.”

Claire shook her head at her son. “Let’s get you dried off.” She disappeared into the house, and returned a moment later with a towel. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”

The boy took the towel. With a backward look toward the men, he moved down to Nathan’s end of the veranda and sat against the wall, drawing up his knees.

Nathan studied him, his young face, then went back to his cigarette, sharing the quiet. A squirrel ran across the back yard. Nathan watched it climb the big elm beyond the neighbor’s fence.

“You work on the dam?” the boy asked.

Nathan spit a fleck of tobacco from the tip of his tongue. “Every day.”

“You have to go to college for that?”

“Four years,” he said. “And lots of math. You like math?”

The boy considered, then shrugged. “Better than grammar.”

“That was kind of my take on it, too,” Nathan said. “Couldn’t stomach much of that Latin.” Growing up, he’d had uncles talk to him like this.

Claire finished in the kitchen and came back out onto the porch. She eyed Nathan nervously and beckoned for Tom to come with her. The porch offered little privacy, so she led her son out in the yard and around the side of the house.

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