Cracked Streets

Cathy coaxed Red into her pick-up with a strip of jerky. His back quivered as he scrambled in, white muzzle slobbering at the treat almost before his hind legs had made it up. “Good boy.” She wiped her hand on the side of her jeans and started the truck, wincing at the grinding it made as she shifted into first gear.

“Where you off to, Cathy?” Tom, smoking at the end of his driveway, waved to her.

“Post office. Want me to pick up your mail for you?” She coasted, not wanting to brake.

He shook his head. “I need any excuse to get out, nowadays. But thanks.” He took another puff.

“And how is Mary Lou?”

Tom glanced back at the house. “Not so good. The doctors keep telling me that she’s got to be admitted, but. . .” He trailed off, throwing his cigarette onto the cracked sidewalk and rubbing it out with his boot. “I don’t know how long I could keep her there, and for what good? The cancer’s already spread to her lungs.” Yanking up his sweat-stained cap, emblazoned with the mine’s logo, he wiped his forehead. “Besides, you know Mary Lou. She’s determined to stick in town. Says that her gran’s buried here, her mom’s buried here, and as the Lord is her witness, she’s going to be as well.”

Cathy felt for Red’s reassuring warmth. “Damn, Tom, you think they’d keep you from the cemetery? That’s cold.”

He chuckled and coughed. “They took our damn zip code. I’m not expecting too many favors from the likes of them.” He coughed again and spat out a hunk of green phlegm. “Better get a move on, Cathy. I think their post office closes in an hour or so.”

She nodded. “I’m just going to swing by the Vomers, see if they want me to pick up their stuff.”

He shook his head. “I hate the way this town’s falling to pieces, but it seems mighty cruel to raise two kids in this hellhole, pardon my French. They oughta get out of here, give those boys a chance. Well, as much of a chance as they’ve got with that father of theirs.”

Cathy felt her throat tighten. She and John had been in the same high school class. He’d been her first kiss, took her to their junior high dance. “He’s having a hard time of it, Tom.”

He snorted. “Less of a hard time than Helen, if you ask me. And no harder of a time than anybody else who's already left town. No, he’ll get no sympathy from me, excepting what I’d give to all the Vomer men. Drink’s always been their devil.”

“If you say so.” Cathy scratched Red behind his ears, fingers tense and shaky as his tongue lolled out with pleasure. “I’m off, then.” She waved goodbye without looking back, navigating around the potholes that turned the street into Swiss cheese. A thud jostled the cab as she ran into one she hadn’t seen. “Dammit!”

Red looked at her and whined.

“Sorry, boy.” She patted him. “Guess your bones are in about the same condition as the shocks.” He licked her hand and barked, making her laugh.

She hesitated at the Vomers’. The two boys were playing around a manhole, throwing leaves into the steam to make them fly. Helen watched from the front porch, patching somebody’s jeans. Cathy waved to them, and the woman waved back, a yellow bruise coloring her forearm. “Afternoon, Helen.”

Helen’s eyes skittered toward the window before replying. “And you, Cathy. Heading to the store?”

“Post office. Want me to get your mail?”

Smiling weakly, Helen shook her head. “It’ll just be more bills and—“ She looked at the window again. “Thanks anyway.”

“No problem. See you at church Saturday?”

The boys stopped playing and stared at their mother. She wilted under their gaze. “I—not this week, Cathy. Maybe another time.”

“Alright. We’ll miss you.” Cathy stroked her dog. “Don’t be a stranger!”

The other woman laughed. “That’d be quite a feat.”

”Helen! Where’s m’beer?” The screen door slammed open, knocking off loose flecks of paint. “I told you t’ get—“ Arm raised, Tom saw Cathy and let it fall. “Cathy! How you doing, sweetheart? You always were a pretty little thing.” He headed toward the truck, grinning.

Cathy swallowed. “Sorry, Tom, can’t talk. I’ve got to get to the post office before it closes.” She shrugged and smiled. “You know how they are.”

He winked. “Okay, but stop by on your way back.”

She nodded and sped away.

Another crack had opened in Route 61, smoke a noxious black. Cathy turned onto the detour, choking. She didn’t bother with her turn signal.