Beth Solheim - At Witt's End

"She shouldn't work so hard. She needs to quit taking care of everything by herself.” Carl sneered as he added, “That old runt she hired can't be much help. Speaking of Nan,” Carl said sitting forward, “you still interested in buying the mortuary land when I win the lawsuit?"

"Of course. We'll need to form another partnership as soon as that happens."

"I don't think so.” Noticing a slight lilt in Paul's voice, Carl realized the man appreciated the change of topic. “We never did anything with the old partnership, and if all goes well, I might not need your money."

"Or you might. I've got a few marketing ideas. That place could be a goldmine if you promoted it."

"I offered you the land outright. We don't need a partnership for that,” Carl said.

"I don't plan to form a partnership for that. We already have a deal in writing for the land the mortuary sits on. I intend to see you keep your end of the bargain. Just as soon as the judge declares you the new owner, that property is mine."

Carl pushed against his knees for leverage and stood up. “There's got to be other land out there. Why waste good lake-front property on a mortuary?"

Carl put his hand on the doorknob. “What I don't understand is why you're using that land to get Nan to marry you. You've got all those other women hot on your trail. Why give everything up to get married?"

"It's part of the game. I'm like you, Carl. I always get what I want.” Paul rose and joined Carl. “What makes you think I intend to give anything up? After you evict the Witt sisters and Nan finds out I bought the mortuary land, she'll fall into my sweet little trap."

" Nan 's not an idiot. She'll catch on eventually."

"That'll take a few years. And then I might be the one needing fresh air. At that point, I'll make sure she wants out as much as me.” Paul's smile carried an edge of deceit.

When crossers arrived at Cabin 14, they possessed a state of strength to help them through their thirty-day journey. It was to their benefit to make their declaration early, because their strength dwindled with each passing day. A crosser became a crosser lost if they were unable to cross back over through someone else's light. Crossers lost faded into oblivion. Rodney's lack of interest in his thirty-day time span concerned Sadie. He obviously had no intention of making a declaration.

As the crossers gathered around the kitchen table for their nightly round table session, Sadie noticed Rodney plop down on the recliner and grab the remote control. He aimed and clicked, paging from channel to channel with rapid progression.

"Wait. I wanted to hear what he had to say.” Mr. Bakke looked from the television screen to Sadie. “I've been waiting all day to see how it turned out."

Marching over to Rodney, Sadie grabbed the remote and handed it to Mr. Bakke. “Mr. Nasty did it. Not me."

"You stupid bitch,” Rodney shouted. “I wanted to watch Monster Garage."

"You're supposed to participate in the round table discussion. Not watch TV.” Sadie pointed at the table. “How many times do I have to tell you to quit calling me a bitch?"

Mr. Bakke summoned Jane. “Let's go for a walk. It sounds like Sadie's got her hands full."

Jane closed her magazine and placed it on top of the others in the stack. She ran her knuckles down the edge of the spines to align the magazines before taking Mr. Bakke's outstretched hand and following him out onto the porch.

The evening breeze lifted Mr. Bakke's hair into wisps that remained afloat as the elderly couple paused at the bottom of the stairs. He placed a gentle kiss on Jane's cheek. His new orthopedic shoes stood out prominently, with the thick black soles appearing to anchor him firmly to the ground. Two knobby knees peeked out below his plaid shorts. He tucked the back of his striped shirt into his elastic waistband.

With Jane sporting a crisp white blouse, khaki slacks, and brown sandals, the pair represented a walking contradiction.

Sadie swung the screen door open and shouted to her sister. “Take Belly with you. He just lifted his leg on Theo's briefcase.” She tugged at Belly's collar and pulled him over the threshold.

"Now maybe we can get going with our session.” Sadie looked at Rodney. “Get over here and join the group.” She pulled out the last empty chair and pointed at it.

"I can hear you from here. Besides you aren't going to say anything new anyway.” Rodney slumped lower in the recliner and bobbed his dangling leg up and down.

Sadie grabbed the remote he'd retrieved when she let the dog out and switched off the television. She tucked the remote in her waistband.

"What's wrong with your dog's balls?” Rodney said.

"Nothing. What's wrong with yours?” Sadie cocked her head and watched his puzzled expression.

"There ain't nothing wrong with my balls. At least I've got two. What did you do to that mutt?"

"The same thing I'm going to do to you if you don't follow the rules."

Rodney taxed the limits of his imagination as he stared out the screen door and watched Belly's lone testicle sway as he followed Jane down the path.

"I wish I could get out of this dump,” Rodney muttered, dropping into the kitchen chair.

"What a benevolent fellow you are, Rodney. And so eloquent. I'll bet you went to Harvard,” Theo said.

"Where?"

"I'm sure everyone in this room would like to see you leave this dump. I hope you don't mind my quoting your ingenious use of the English language. If there truly is a Higher Power, and I'm beginning to doubt there is, maybe he'll accommodate us by granting your wish.” Theo tipped his head, staring at Rodney.

Rodney opened his mouth and then closed it. A confused expression pinched his features. “You better speak English so I can understand you."

"That was perfectly clear to me,” Sadie said.

Lora buried her lips in her son's hair, the corners of her mouth moving upward.

Rodney turned his chair so his back was against the table. He looked at Sadie. “Well? What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to bore us again?"

Theo tugged on Rodney's chair attempting to turn it around. Gritting his jaw as he grasped the wood, he said, “You are such a twit."

Rodney grabbed the edge of the table to thwart Theo's effort. He grasped Theo's hand and squeezed it. “Twit?” When Theo let go of his chair, Rodney repeated, “Twit? I'm insulted. Couldn't you come up with a better word?"

Rodney butted his chair against Theo's chair. Dropping back into the chair, he pushed hard against Theo's black-suited shoulder. “Now I suppose you're going to call your mommy so she can come and beat me up."

Without flinching at the intrusion of Rodney's nose three inches from his face, Theo said, “I wouldn't think of exposing my mother to the dregs of society."

"I don't blame you,” Rodney said. “She might ruin my reputation."

Theo looked at Rodney over the top of his glasses. “I'm sure she'd be quite distraught to hear that even though it made no sense whatsoever."

"Twits and dregs. I suppose you think that's a good description of my family."

"I have no doubt of its accuracy."

Sadie tried to interrupt the verbal volley by stepping toward Rodney.

"My parents are great people,” Rodney shouted, startling the others at the table. “My old man was the boss of our family and we listened to what he said."

"Surprise, surprise,” Theo said. “And I bet your mother's a quiet little church mouse who caters to his every need."

"Absolutely not. She's a large woman with great big tits and can open beer bottles with her teeth."

Theo spread his palms and scanned the others at the table. “Need I say more?"

"Are you criticizing my parents?"