Friday, August 19, 2011

Ana Bell Johnston

            I’ve had enough.  I leave in a hurry from our run down farmhouse that I’m constantly reminded is not mine.  I don’t want it to be mine.  Who would?  The porch is falling down and the carpet needs replaced, where we have carpet.  The basement is actually a crawl space with a dirt floor that you can’t do nothing with.  Larry hoards everything he finds and thinks he’s gonna make a fortune out of it but will never part with anything.  I think just about every car and truck he’s owned sits in our backyard.
            But I’ve had enough.  His drinking tonight is more than I can handle.  I walk up the road knowing I’ll come to The Rebel first before I head out of town to the hollars.  It’s a hot night, very muggy.  Luckily it ain’t any earlier.  I hate walking when the mosquitoes are out.  I stumble a little because I’ve been having those pains again.  The kind I get when I can’t breath.  Doctor says it’s from my up-bringing.  I am traumatized or something and I have breathing attacks remembering it.  Whatever, I just take them pills because it goes great with tequila chasers.  They take the pain away.

There isn’t much traffic out this time of night on a weekday.  I didn’t think about what I was wearing when I left.  I just walked out with my shorts and t-shirt grabbing my purse on the way.  Little does Larry know I still have his paycheck with me.  He’ll be pissed in the morning but what else is new.  I think that man wakes up pissed and goes to bed even more pissed.  Today is no exception.  I’ve spent all day being yelled at for one thing or another.  I’ve had enough.   It’s about time I left his ass for good.  I know, I’ve said it before but this time I mean it.  I’ve had enough.

There ain’t too many cars out front of The Rebel.  I’m grateful for that.  I don’t want to be seen by too many people with the shiner Larry gave me on my birthday.  When I asked him what he got me for my birthday, he punched me and said “this is what I got you bitch”.  My eye still ain’t healed all the way.  Nothing a little make-up can’t take care of.  But that’s been a few days and Larry totally denies it ever happened.  He said “you fell walking up on that rickety porch out front woman and don’t you go round telling lies otherwise”. 

I walk through the door of The Rebel allowing a few seconds to pass so my eyes can get adjusted to the dimness of the room before I venture any further.  I pretty much know my way around.  I use to work here.  This is where I met Larry one drunkin day long ago.  It should have been a sign, meeting in a bar.  I’m learning from every bruise and attack on my body that alcohol and Larry don’t mix. 

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