“There ain’t no way.”
“That’s what I been telling myself since I found you.”
“You didn’t find me. I found you.”
She turned her back to the water and sat down on the rail. “Jesus. I wish I knew what made the world turn like it does. Spins strange sometimes. Spins stranger for some people anyhow.”
He picked up a rock and tossed it into the creek.
“I thought you was in jail,” she said.
“I was. Got home about three days ago. Right on time.”
“How long has it been?”
“Long time. Eleven years.”
“Russell. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
She stood up from the rail and walked a lap around the truck. When she came back around she said I hated your guts. Used to pray every night that somebody was beating the shit out of you or holding you down. Used to pray for that. Dear God I’d say and then the rest with the bad words and everything. Bet He couldn’t wait every night to hear that one. She looked back across the water and into the woods. Then I got tired of it. Just like that. Woke up one morning and I was too tired to hate you anymore. Too tired to hate what happened. By then I was a long ways from home and running on fumes and you didn’t matter no more.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t. Don’t start that up. Don’t come out here with that. That was eleven years ago. That shit don’t matter no more. Ain’t you listening?” She bent over and grabbed her hair with both hands. Mumbled and grunted. Raised up and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“I never said it then so I thought I’d say it now.”
“Why? Don’t change nothing,” she said and she slapped her hands by her sides. “Might make you feel better but it don’t change nothing.”
“Don’t really make me feel better.”
“Then shut the hell up.”
She took another lap. Let it go let it go she repeated as she walked. Rubbed her temples with her index fingers. She then stood in front of him. Took two deep breaths and nodded toward the creek.
“I ain’t throwing that gun in there.”
“You got to throw it somewhere. In about the next fifteen minutes. I’m not riding around with it anymore.”
“Shit. Guess not. You’re guilty as I am right now.”
“Not right. You pointed it at me and told me to drive. I did. Otherwise I ain’t seen it. Your word on mine.”
“That should make for some fine damn discussion seeing how upstanding we both are.”
“Just throw it.”
“And then what? Then you take me home. Wanna make it all right. Wanna pay for it all in one big splash.”
“I already paid for it. You can look at this however you want. The way I see it once that gun is gone that’s it. That’s it between you and what you did and between you and me and whatever I’m doing standing here. Thing is, I’ve ended up believing everything you said and if it’s true then I’m glad you shot that asshole. I don’t even know who he was but I can see him in my head. If you’re lying then I’m the dumbass. But many times I wish I would’ve had a gun to shoot whoever had ahold of me. Been many times God heard what you were praying and He damn sure answered. So you can believe He’s up there.”
“He heard me then. Not no other times.”
“I don’t care about when He heard you and when He didn’t. It didn’t exactly work out for nobody.”
Maben sat down in the road. “No. It didn’t,” she said. “But I don’t feel right throwing the gun here. It don’t work that way. Seems like something is going to creep up. And that creek ain’t deep enough. You knew that.”
He nodded.
“Then why’d you bring me out here?” she asked.
But he didn’t bother to answer and she didn’t ask again.
She leaned back her head and looked toward the pale and empty sky. She had wanted somebody to blame for a long time and now here he was but she couldn’t do it. Seemed like everything had paused. Like they would get in the truck and drive back into something different from what was waiting.
“Answer me something,” he said. “I always wondered why you weren’t in the truck with that boy. Why it was only him.”