Gumbo Ya-Ya by Les Edgerton

Author:Les Edgerton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Snubnose Press

INDIAN CUSTOMS

"What's that?" he said.

There was no answer, so he said it again, louder.

"What're you doing?"

Her face appeared in the bedroom doorway. She had her blue robe on and her hair wasn't combed.

"Did I wake you?" she said.

He grunted, didn't say anything, but pressed his lips together, the left side of his mouth indenting into a sneer.

"I'm vacuuming." She held up the hose for proof.

"Oh? I thought space craft had landed. I was just going to check the back yard."

She laughed pleasantly, and stood in the doorway, watching. He stared at the ceiling, feeling her eyes on him.

"I didn't think you'd hear me, in the living room."

"How far apart are they?" He turned for the first time and looked at her.

"Ten minutes. Mostly. Sometimes, they go down to five, but it's not regular."

"How do you feel?"

"Good. Okay. I just couldn't sleep. I was uncomfortable. My hips hurt."

"Should we be going now?"

She thought for a second and then said, "No. I don't think so. They're not that bad. More like menstrual cramps."

"Do you have to keep that running?"

"Oh. Well, I just want to finish. I'm almost done."

He turned his face back to the ceiling and brought his arms up, placing his hands behind his head.

"It's your burst of energy, you know."

"I guess."

She went back to the living room and he shut his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. He might as well get up.

***

"What're you doing?"

"Coffee. You want some?"

"I better not. I shouldn’t eat anything now."

He put away the coffee container and switched the button on. Water began to drip and then run. In a few minutes it was done perking, and he poured a cup, adding the tip of a spoon of sugar and a half spoon of Cremora and took the cup into the living room where he sat on the big sofa. The vacuum cleaner was off, but still stood in the middle of the room, its cord making S-patterns across the rug to the outlet. Its hose hung down like an elephant's trunk searching for peanuts. She sat down also, on the small sofa across from him, and curled her legs up beneath her, her gaze on his face.

"You want to go?" he said.

"No, Adam. It's not time yet. It could be hours. I'll know when."

He snorted and drank some coffee.

"Yeah? This is your first, you know. Maybe you'll be different. Maybe you'll hve hardly any pain. Maybe you'll end up having it in the bedroom."

"Maybe," she said, and then, "I'll know. Trust me." She put her legs down on the carpet, twisted, and then drew them up, positioning her body the opposite way.

"I guess," he said, putting his finger into the coffee and then sucking on it.

They were both silent for awhile. He sat there, staring blankly at the coffee table between them, occasionally picking up his cup and sipping, but never breaking his hypnotic gaze at the table. He felt her looking over at him.

"Know what the Indians used to do?" he said, looking up, finally.

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