Rustle, Oklahoma

I walked towards the white, chipped and wind-whipped, fence surrounding the lawn of the home. I pushed the gate open, beside a leaning, white mailbox, and walked on a stone path. Weeds grew between the cracks of the stones and at the edges. The front steps were shouldered by small hedges needing a quick trim.

I entered my small home paid for by the church. It’s a small two-bedroom house with a little lawn and backyard. It’s been here nearly as long as the church. Different priests have lived here. I first showered, made myself two sandwiches, changed into another pair of clergy clothes and exited the house with my jacket in one hand. I walked out onto the small green lawn, following the stone path towards the white-picket fence and opened the front gate. Parked in front of my home is my black, 2004 Ford Focus sedan.

Though the day had been relatively fresh the interior of the Ford Focus was a bit warm since it had been sitting under the sun all day. I rolled down my window, did a U-turn, and drove up the way Mary and I had come. I took a left at the end of Cobb Street to go back down the main road towards and past the stores my brother, nephew, and I had previously gone to. Mary, like my brother, lived a bit a way away out of town. I drove with no music, enjoying the day as the wind cooled me down. Enjoying the second ham sandwich I had made, the first one I ate before leaving.

I drove ten minutes out of town, slowed down and made a left onto a dirt road taking me past empty dirt fields. Far off, on a dirt field, a tractor was preparing it for corn. Down past ten acres, I spotted the first house. Dilapidated and soon to be taken by nature. Without a doubt the house would soon be demolished to make way for farmland. Another five acres was a second house in the same state as the previous one. The only house out here still standing strong and with life in it is the Rush’s home.

I drove down the dirt road, twenty-five acres past where I started, until I spotted the rusty, six-foot tall windmill with a rusted brown rooster on top, behind an old, brown log fence. I drove up to the wide opening in the fence, the dusty trail covered in tire tracks led to the Rush’s beige, 2001 Lincoln Continental. It was parked just in front of a worn shed beside the two-story brown house. I parked my car beside the Continental, exited my car, and walked on the gravel leading to the front porch. I knocked on the wicker door and turned to stare out at the fields in front of the house as I waited for an answer. Standing beside a small, round brown table and a wicker chair with a light colored, wooden frame.

More empty fields but you could see the green tops of trees in the distance. To the left, a little more up the road, is a canal with a steady flow of rippling, blue water. Reeds grew on the sides of the canal. There was a croak from frogs and the creak from the wicker door.

“Billy.”

I turned to find Lisa Rush dressed up for the party. She had her wavy, auburn hair hanging loose to her shoulders. Lisa wore blue denim jeans, brown ankle boots, a brown knitted sweater with the buttons undone, and a white blouse underneath. “Why, Lisa, if I may say, you are looking good.”

“Thank you, Billy,” Lisa’s red color lips smiled up at me. “I told Richard already. He’s still in the living room, he and Carl were watching the TV. Carl left thirty minutes ago. I’ll be back by seven and I’ll bring some food from the party for Richard so don’t worry about cooking.”

“Seven? So soon?”

“Oh, it’s fine. A couple of hours out is all I need. Also, I need to tell you something Billy,” Lisa walked towards and past me. My nostrils took in the calm smell of the lavender perfume she wore. She stood at the edge of the porch, beckoning me to come closer with her hand.

I stood close, listening intently as Lisa spoke. “Three nights ago, in the middle of the night, oh I want to say it was one in the morning or so. Richard woke me up with his groans and moans. When I turned around in bed to check on him his skin was burning. He was pale and sweating, groaning for some cold water. I brought a couple of cold water bottles we keep in the fridge. We stayed up till about four in the morning, eventually, he cooled down and Richard was able to go back to sleep. But it came from out of nowhere. Richard told me not to worry,” Lisa shook her head.

“Keep an eye on him, Billy. He’s been fine these past few days, but it came about suddenly that night and I worry it might happen again.” Lisa hung her head then shook it again. “Maybe I shouldn’t go—”

“I’ll keep on eye on him,” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Enjoy the party. Enjoy the food and your friends. Don’t worry,” I did my best to make my voice light and smooth to calm her down as I said, “alright?”

Lisa gave me a look then sighed. “Fine,” she giggled, “I know you’ll keep a good eye on him. C’mon, let’s go inside, I need to grab my bag.”

We entered the house. A strong smell of lavender hit me as I stood in the entrance where there is a shoe cubby and a bench against the walls. I noticed the perfume bottle on the top of the cubby.

Lisa walked across the room to the green sofa Richard Rush sat on. Richard, at the age of sixty-three, had kept a body all men wished or would wish for at that age. His shape was that of a man who spent most of his time outside. Strong legs, muscular arms, sturdy and with the minimalist hint of a beer belly. After the accident, Richard had lost a lot of muscle, especially in his legs. I remembered how Richard looked only seven months after the accident. Richard had looked the exact opposite of what he was like before. His body was like some starved prisoner, his arms and legs twiggy with loose flesh hanging from him.

The Richard before me had gained back a good bit of weight. His arms were a bit wider, his belly stuck out and his face, though hollower, had regain its color and the skin had tightened somewhat, and his legs appeared stronger. Richard sat on the couch in shorts, a white tank, wearing sandals. Beside him is a cane that Richard carries around most of the time, only keeping it for when his legs are tired. Usually after taking the stairs. His hair had finally begun to bald, being sixty, that could be consider a miracle. I thought of my own head that began to bald at the age of thirty. Richard kept a full set of nearly gray, brown hair with the sides well-kept and the top combed to the right side or swept back. Now, his hair was gray, six separate groupings of gray strands were combed to the right on the top of his head and the sides were a bit longer than the length Richard used to keep them at. He also kept a well-groomed beard on his broad, square fair-colored face.

He was watching some spaghetti western. Two men stood in an empty town at night. They were behind a barn. The two men faced each other, the sound of wind and a guitar being strummed hung over the two. Then they pulled out their revolvers. The one in a velvet red, leather jacket fired before the one in a brown, black cuff and collar jacket. The gunshot blared through the TV’s speakers. Lisa walked over to Richard as the strumming of the guitar became somber, full of regret, “Richard, I’m going now. Billy’s here. I’ll be back at seven.”

Richard looked up at her, “Alright, sugar.” Lisa bent down to give Richard a peck on the lips. I turned slightly away but turned back when Richard spoke to me with his grumbling, tired voice, “Billy, come, sit down.” He tapped the lazy chair beside the sofa with the end of the cane.

I walked over and shook Richard’s hand, “Hey, Richard.” I sat down and said, “Are you going to watch the Royals versus the Sox?”

“That’s right, Rile. It’ll be on soon; this movie is just about over.” Richard looked up at Lisa who tapped his shoulder.

“Alright boys, I’ll be going now. Take care,” Lisa’s boots clacked on the pine nut color plank floor.

“Take care. Have fun,” Richard said looking over the couch then turned back to the Television as a commercial came on. “Thanks for doing this, Rile. I tell her to go out and have fun without me, but she doesn’t want to leave me alone.”

“No problem, Richard. It’s pretty much just hanging out with a buddy. No sweat off my back.”

Richard smiled and nodded his head. We watched the movie in its entirety. It ended with the velvet red jacket wearer dying at the edge of a brook. A group of deputies bolstered by law-abiding citizens chased him on horseback. Through a grouping of trees, over hills, and finally to the brook where a deputy with a mean look in his eye stopped at the top of a hill. With his rifle steady he fired, striking the running gunslinger in the back. Causing him to fall of the horse onto the mud where he bled out.

“What time is it Rile?” Richard asked as the credits rolled.

“Four on the dot,” I told Richard as I stared at the screen of my flip phone.

“Alright, time to piss.” Richard patted his knees and made to stand. He got off the seat and sat back down. Richard rubbed his thighs and calves then tried again. He managed to stand. Richard had to lean onto his cane just to get a step in. I stood and moved towards Richard, saying, “Let me help.”

Richard swung his left hand behind him. “No!” He was breathing heavy, his cane wobbled as his right arm shook. “Damn it,” Richard said angrily, “I can do this much on my own. I can go to the damn restroom on my own. I don’t need somebody pulling down my damn trousers to take a piss.”

“I understand Rich,” I held my hands up. Richard would rarely get angry before the accident. At five-ten and with a strong body, Richard was not a man someone could easily mess with, but he abhorred violence and discourse. Avoiding hot headed fools who tried him and settling arguments with calm conversation. Though that Richard had his hikes, hunts, and camping trips to keep him joyous and relaxed.

Richard didn’t answer me. He turned his head towards a white door, a break in the green wallpaper with a bronze spear fleur pattern. Richard slowly made his way to the restroom, I didn’t go back to my seat, instead I focused on my old friend. Watching for any sign that he might fall.

He made it to the door without accident, turned the knob, and closed it. I walked slowly, careful not to make noise, and stood beside the door. The fan was on inside, so it was hard to hear anything. But the thumps against the floor and wall made it through. Then there was an audible, “Oh shit!”

Followed soon after by, “Goddammit! —”

I took a step towards the door.

“—Shit! Fucking hell!”

There was more noise from Richard’s movements. I knocked on the door. “What?” Richard shouted.

“Is everything alright?”

“No—”

There was movement and then all was quiet.

“—I got…damn! I got piss on my freaking shorts.”

“I’ll go grab you another from upstairs. Alright?”

The silence stretched as Richard didn’t respond. Finally, he agreed, “Fine. Top middle drawer in the dresser with the mirror.”

“Alright,” I said then walked towards the stairs. I took a step up the pine nut planks, the stairs creaked under my weight. I held onto the brown, oak handrail taking the steps one at a time. Photos lined the wall. There were pictures of a young Richard and Lisa. A picture of Lisa wearing business attire sitting behind a desk, a nostalgic photo. There was a photo of Richard holding up a large trout with a big ol’ grin on his face. There was another photo with Lisa, Richard, and another couple. The girl in the group photo had the same hair color as Lisa and was about her height, she seemed a bit younger, and her face was a bit squarer than Lisa’s. Towards the top, there was a photo of a forty-year-old Richard with his semi-truck. There were two group photos of Lisa and other employees from Yorkel’s. One group photo had all of the office staff gathered together with the taller ones in the back and the shorter ones (including Lisa) in the front. Below that photo is a group picture with Lisa and all the loggers. I’m in it as well standing two men to the left of Lisa.

At the end of the staircase, I could head left or right. The left hall has three doors, but one is a closet, the other a small room that kept their mementos, with the door at the end of the hall being Richard’s and Lisa’s. The right hall has two doors one leading to the guest bedroom and the other to a smaller closet. Richard and Lisa never had any kids to take those two extra rooms. Back in the day, I spent a couple of nights here. Before when Richard could hike up a mountain and Lisa wasn’t always so tired and anxious.

I took a left, walked to the end of the dark hall, and opened the bedroom door. A king-size bed with a dark oak frame, green linen sheets and white pillows, is pushed against the center of the backwall. To the right of the room is a closet made of the same wood as the bed with two dark-brown doorknobs, two windows at the same height and two-feet apart, and a small coffee table with two wooden chairs faced towards the windows. To the left of the room is the triple, oak dresser with the wide mirror attached to it and a door to the restroom. On either side of the bed are nightstands with white lamps. I walked to the dresser, open the top middle drawer, and pulled out the first pants I saw; a pair of dark-wash jeans.

I went downstairs, knocked on the restroom door which opened slightly. Without speaking, I held the jeans towards the crack in the door. I stood just beside the door, unable to see into the opening. Richard’s hairy hand reached out and took the jeans then he shut the door. I walked back to my seat and watched as the Red Sox were introduced. Richard exited soon after, took his seat on the couch, and stared silently at the screen.

We sat their soaking in the awkward silence. Richard no doubt wanted to be alone. And I would leave him alone if an opportunity could just present itself. I would like to watch game but as the silence stretched, the more I yearned to leave this situation.

“I’m going to watch it upstairs,” Richard made to stand, and I saw my chance.

“Actually,” I stood before him, “I’ve been reading a book and have been itching to read it since I put it down. I was thinking about going out on the porch and enjoy it.”

Richard’s eyes widen a little and he relaxed back onto the couch. “Alright, sounds good. I’ll be here.”