"That's a bad sunburn, Mister English," She said.
I sagged slightly in relief.
She started spreading the silvadene across my back and I sighed as it started pulling the burning feeling out of my skin. She was humming to herself as she worked and I tried to ignore the slightly guilty pangs I was getting for letting another woman see me without a shirt, much less touch me.
get over yourself. you're on the wrong side of forty, she's like late twenties, you dirty old man
"You get that tattoo in the Army?" She asked me, rubbing the silverish-white cream on my shoulders.
"Yeah," I said softly.
"That 'yeah' reminds me of Uncle Pete when people ask him about Vietnam," She mused. "That where you got those scars, or you get those from cow punching down in Texas?"
"Little from column A, little from column B," I told her. I told myself her fingers weren't lingering.
"My name's Lily-Rylee," she said, "Most folks just call me Rennie."
"Samuel English," I answered automatically.
"That's what Uncle Pete told me," She said. "Lean forward."
I leaned forward and she started smearing the thick cream on my middle back.
"You got heat-stroke, huh?" She asked me. "You drunk?"
I shook my head. "No. Didn't think it was that hot. It's dry heat down in Texas, not so much here."
She laughed at that. "Wait till winter when Blue Creek's covered in snow," she sighed. "I love the snow. You like the snow, Sam? Bet in Texas you didn't see much of it."
"Was stationed in Germany, saw a lot of it," I told her. I chuckled. "Texas, though, half inch of snow and they're ready to call out the National Guard and declare a state of emergency."
"I'll bet," She laughed, her hands moving lower as she smeared on the cream. "Repent, repent, the End is near! as Mary-Beth would say."
That made me laugh with her.
"There, all done," she said, stepping back. "Don't want to bandage it, so you might as well leave your shirt off."
I flushed at that and she giggled.
"Sorry, been a while since anyone but my wife has seen me without..." my voice trailed off.
Pru is dead.
Her hand touched my shoulder. "Uncle Pete told me. I'm sorry, Sam."
I nodded, moving forward, her fingertips sliding off my shoulder. I opened the fridge and stared. Energy drinks and that was about it to drink.
"None of those," Lily said from behind me. She shook the bag. "I thought you might not have anything to drink, so I brought some pre-sweetened Kool-Aid packets. Doc Rutheford said no pop or energy drinks or beer for you for a week."
I nodded.
"Your right leg's shaking. You all right, Sam?" She asked, reaching for me.
My knee gave out, my muscles deciding that they were done with me, and she grabbed my arm, holding me up.
"All right, bull rider, let's get you on the couch," she said. "Uncle Pete said you were damn near dead when he found you."
I nodded, going to lean back on the couch and remembering at the last second to stay forward so I didn't smear silvadene all over the couch cushions.
"I'll make the koolaid," she laughed.
Part of me felt guilty. I liked her laugh. To be honest, I liked watching her walk into the kitchen. Her butt filled out her jeans nicely and it swayed back and forth nicely. When she turned around after filling the plastic pitcher full of water I admired her full t-shirt.
"I can see the way you're looking at me, Mister English," She chided.
"Sorry," I flushed and looked away.
"First time you've looked at a woman like that in a while?" She asked me, her voice teasing.
"Yeah," I admitted. I felt guilt rise up in my chest.
she died, not you, Tony, so get up off the floor
hypocrisy, thy name is Sam English
"Look all you want," She laughed. "I'm a bit too old to be getting all offended at a man staring at me when I wear tight jeans and a tight t-shirt," she chuckled a little wickedly. "'sides, means you're on the mend," she told me over the clacking of the wooden spoon against the side of the plastic pitcher as she stirred the koolaid.
She poured me a glass and brought it over, setting on the coaster on the coffee table.
"Saw you had a sun tea pitcher in the cupboard. Do you have teabags?" She asked.
"Um, I don't remember," I told her honestly.
I couldn't remember buying any of this. Just bits and pieces. Buying stuff that Pru would have hated.
Because Pru was dead.
"You're crying, Sam," She said gently. "Do you need me to go?"
I shook my head. "No. Just..." I let it hang.
"You're supposed to take these pills before lunch according to Doc Rutheford," she said, setting the pill bottles down. "You take these, I'll put the sun-tea out."
I nodded, trying to open the pill bottle.
My hands were shaking so badly I dropped the bottle. I sighed and tried again while she filled the sun-tea jaw. It was glass, with ugly hand-painted flowers on the outside of the glass. I knew the water was good, I paid extra for damn good filtering.
When she came in I'd taken the pills and drank half the glass of koolaid. My headache was receding and my hands weren't shaking so bad. My pants were on the floor still and I dug in them till I found my lighter and cigarettes, lighting one and sighing.
"Mind?" She asked, holding up her own pack. I shook my head and she lit one, sighing and leaning back on the love seat. I started to look her over, saw her arch an eyebrow, and looked away, blushing.
Lily laughed at that. "It's kind of funny, Sam, how easily you Texas boys blush when you get caught eyeing a girl."
I flushed deeper, blowing out smoke and looking away.
"What made you decide to stay in Blue Creek, Kentucky, of all places?" Lily asked me.
I shrugged. "Truck broke down. I rented the trailer for Miss Mary-Beth, and then really got into restoring it. Figured I might as well stay here. It's as good a place as any, maybe even better."
"Mary-Beth was going around this morning talking about how she sold you the land, how she's a good Christian helping out a widowered war vet," she scoffed.
"All true," I told her, shrugging.
"Uncle Pete said it was Desert Storm and Panama, that true?" She asked me, sipping at her own glass of koolaid.
I nodded.
It had been a long time since I sat and talked to someone about anything but cattle, cattle futures, ranching, the economy, NAFTA, all of that.
"Fought in both," I said. "Got unlucky, I guess."
She nodded at that. "Not too unlucky, though, you're still here."
westlin crumpling to the ground
"True," I said softly.
"Wow, ghost at the wedding," She said. "Sorry."
I waved my hand. "It's OK. Doc said I'd get mood swings, said the meds would help," I looked at her and chuckled. "I think I had a psychotic break."
She nodded. "Nervous breakdown, Uncle Pete said," She touched my knee. "Told me he had one like it when Aunt Eunice died back in 98. Worked hisself damn near to death at that store."
"I think that's kind of what I was doing," I admitted to her. I sighed. "I don't know..."
I trailed off and we sat in silence for a while.
"The Brubaker boys, they the ones worked on your trucks? That blue one, that's Bo's old truck ain't it?" she suddenly asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Bought it from him, had him rebuild it after he rebuilt my red one."
She smiled. "Uncle Pete told me to make sure your sleeping bag wasn't in the back of that truck like you were some rail hopping hobo."
That made me laugh. "No, I was sleeping in the bed when you rang the bell."
"Good sleep will do you some good, Mister English," Lily told me, crossing her legs.
When I looked back at her face she had a raised eyebrow, letting my know she'd caught me looking at her jean covered crotch. I flushed and she laughed, slapping her leg. After a minute I laughed with her.
"You Texas boys sure are blushers," she teased me.
"Just, been a while since I talked to a woman besides..." my voice trailed away.
besides Pru, and she's dead
"You're wife," She finished for me. "I understand, a little. I was married nine years before he left me for some tramp he met on the internet in 2000. It crushed me. Nine years, and it was suddenly over and I didn't understand why. How long were you and her married?" She asked me.
"Seventeen years, till Prudence died in May," I told her. "Almost half my life. She was my Junior High rodeo sweetheart," I said.
Lily got up, going into the bathroom and coming back with a box of tissue. She knelt down in front of me, dabbing at my cheeks. "It's OK, Samuel. I know it hurts."
I stared at her for a second and I saw her mouth open to say something, her hand suddenly moving to rest over my sternum. I knew it was to hold me back, push me back, but all I felt was her warm hand on the skin of my chest, my heartbeat under her palm.
I had no idea what came over, what possessed me to do it, or why the need to do it swept through me.
I kissed her. Eyes closed, lips against hers, a surge of joy when her lips parted and her tongue slipped into my mouth to touch mine. She moaned low in her throat, her hand going around to the back of my neck and drawing me down slightly. She kissed back, hungry, hard, eager, her other hand dropping the tissue to rest on the inside of my thigh, squeezing gently.
She broke the kiss suddenly, her eyes wide.
"Oh my God, Samuel, I'm so sorry," she blushed a deep red, standing up.
"No, it's..." I started.
"I gotta go. I'll be back tomorrow morning to put that cream on your back," She said, turning around and rushing to the door. "Bye!"
The door shut behind her and I stood up, limping to the window and looking outside. She hurried to the little car, long strides that I noticed made her nice round butt swing back and forth and her ample breasts bounce up and down. The breeze made her blonde hair dance behind her as she hurried.
She got in, slammed the door, and started the car, quickly turning around and heading down the driveway.
She turned the corner and was gone.
I reached up and touched my lips.
They still tingled slightly from her kiss.
how could you, Pru's only been dead a month and a half went through my head, guilt starting to fill me.
get up, Tony, she's dead, not you
The guilt suddenly vanished.
Somehow, that was worse.
I got angry suddenly. Furious.
Pru had been the one who died on me. She'd said we'd be together, we'd grow old together. Instead, she'd passed quietly in her sleep.
After all those goddamn years wringing her hands about me, worrying about me getting killed 'following Tony Stillwater around like a dog', she was the one who died, who left me, not the other way around.
I was furious with her.
How dare she die, and leave me alone? Wasn't I worth staying for? Why the hell was I the one still alive? Why did I have to go on hurting, while she was just gone?
The grief welled up, and I found myself standing in front of the window crying.
Pru was barely cold and I'd gone and kissed a girl I'd known an hour, leaned forward and kissed Lily. Kissed her soft lips, felt her warm hand on my skin. Tasted her lips, felt her kiss back. I'd been as hungry in that kiss as her. The guilt surged up.
I turned away from the window and saw the two glasses, half finished, of koolaid on the table.
Lily's had pink lipstick on the rim.
The same lipstick that had been pressed against my own lips.
I'd actually sat there and kissed her.
Going and kissing some strange woman and Pru dead for...
Pru's dead...
"YOU AREN'T COMING BACK!" I yelled at the empty front room. "YOU DIED, AND LEFT ME ALL ALONE!"
I stomped back to the bedroom and threw myself on the bed, on my stomach, so I didn't smear the silvadene cream.
"You died, and you left me all alone," I sobbed, holding onto the pillow.
"How could you?"