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The Prayers of Good People
by Cesca Janece Waterfield It was hot as noon, though it was just ten. Vi stood at the window. The sheriff was out there with eight or so men, they were picking up trash from the ditches. Sheriff Pekaw was standing with a rifle, watching their orange backs bend in the sun. Digby emerged from the steamy bathroom. Vi, you come away from there. No telling what them fruits are like to do. He pulled her by her elbow and looked harshly out the window. Vi lit a Merit Light and said, Those boys aren't bad. Five to one says they wrote hot checks for baby formula or got busy with one of Pekaw's trashy daughters. She reached up and rubbed her neck with one hand while she ashed into an empty Diet RC can with the other. Digby watched her work out a kink. He said Humph, and turned away. Since she had started having lunch with lawyers and the rest of the folks she had to smile at to figure out how they had decided to divvy up her daddy's money, she had taken up smoking. Digby filled a glass at the sink in the kitchen and studied Vi as she smoked; her flat eyes, her sucked-in cheeks. It didn't seem right to Digby. It seemed like smoking took time away from him, like Vi had a ritual she shared with others. He considered going down to Applebee's bar. He stood in the kitchen and envisioned how he would do it. He would say vaguely he had a meeting with someone. If Vi asked, he would say, Just someone, Vi. He would wear his good boots, some cologne. That would make her wonder. He took a sip of water and pictured it with delight. As he took her keys, he would say, I know where you'll be. Then he could turn in the door and just drop suggestion that she better join the gym. He finished his glass of water and looked out through the living room. In the road, Sheriff Pekaw and the men were just about done. And anyway, Digby knew after the taxes, funeral, and tithes were paid, there would be some money left. Honey, let's go for a drive. In your Camaro? He went over to her purse and took out a pack of gum. He slid a strip in his mouth, and unwrapped another. He walked over to her and started rubbing her shoulders, working up a good chew. Vi slid from his hands and bent to straighten the magazines on the coffee table. What do you say? We could take a sack of weed, go down to that mill, you know. He slid his hand beneath her shirt and between her shoulder blades then around. We could, get back to nature, he said suggestively. Number one, Digby, we are in the middle of nowhere. How can we get back to nature when I'm already drowning in it? Number two, I am tired out of my mind with this – Vi spread her hands, forked her fingers, and wiggled her head - – Estate settlement. She rolled her eyes. Her daddy had left it all to the church. I'm just saying maybe a little drive might ease your mind. Give you something better to do than watch convicts from the porch. Digby clicked on the t.v. I'm just saying they could be dangerous. Those aren't bad boys. I'm in more danger standing here, right here, Digby. She started to cry. Now Digby had done it. And right before "Choppers." He came over and put his arms around her. He didn't know what to say. He cupped her breasts and ass. No, it's okay, D. You go back to your t.v. program. I am -- you know what? she wiped her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. I'm going to go pick up some chicken. Digby sat down and propped his feet next to the magazines. You sure, honey? I'll just pick up some chicken and slaw. Pastor Cowley and me ate over there, it was real good. Digby checked his belly fat and surfed through the channels when he heard what she'd said. Speaking of which, it might help you to spend a little more time with the pastor, Vi. I don't know what's got into you. Maybe like that book says, you need a conversation with god. If you won't go for a good old fashioned country drive anyway. God does not live down rural route seven, Digby. Well, he's listening to the prayers of the good people who do, Vi. Digby found his t.v. program and made clear: He's up there listening, sure is. Back
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