Edward Lee - The Backwoods

Now for the hard part . . . She couldn’t sit here all day. What am I going to say to Ernie? A worse consideration: Did he tell Judy what I did?

And what might he say to any male friends? She knew how guys talked amongst themselves, and in her mind she could hear it now: Yeah, guys, I swear to God, she just walked right in with her robe hangin’ wide open showin’ the whole package! Tits stickin’ out—damn near poked me in the eye! And that red-hairt beaver? Yeah, man! “Oh, please,” she muttered.

She summoned her courage and walked straight to the kitchen.

“Good mornin’, my sweet big sister!” Judy greeted her. She smiled brightly as she was pouring the orange juice at the table.

“Hi, Judy,” Patricia said dolefully.

“Sleep well, I hope?”

“Yes, fine . . .”

Ernie stood at the stove, flipping eggs. He glanced over with half a smile. “Mornin’, Patricia.”

She let out a frustrated breath. “Ernie, I don’t know what to say.”

“Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he dismissed. “Probably groggy when ya got up and forgot you weren’t in yer own house. No biggie.”

“What are you two talkin’ about?” Judy asked.

“Ain’t nothin’, Judy,” he said fast, then severed the subject. “How ya want your eggs, Patricia? Judy likes hers sunny-side down, ‘n’ I take mine up.”

Thank God he didn’t tell her what a ditz I am . “I’ll take mine up, too.”

“Ernie makes the best eggs,” Judy bragged. “He kind of floats ‘em in butter and bacon grease.”

“See, Patricia, out here in the country we don’t worry ‘bout none of that citified hogwash like cloresterhall’re whatever the hail it’s called.”

“Fine with me. Mine’s always been low.” Patricia sat next to her sister. “How are you holding up?”

Judy crunched into a piece of buttered toast. “Honestly, I feel much better than I thought I would, and I know it’s because you’re here. I can’t thank you enough for makin’ the trip—”

"I won’t hear talk like that.”

“And I’m so, so sorry for bein’ so out of it last night—”

“It’s all right, Judy—”

“All drunk and weepy and sleepin’ most of the day.

I’m just ashamed to be like that for your arrival.”

“Quiet, I said,” Patricia ordered. But Judy’s mood was actually encouraging. Today she’s going to scatter her husband’s ashes. I’d expect her to be a wreck right now, but . . . so far, so good.

The three of them chatted casually during breakfast, mostly Judy talking about her business, which locals had died, gotten married, or left town, etc. Eventually Ernie excused himself for some outside chores he needed to get done before the funeral services.

Patricia found it almost impossible to keep her eyes off him as he walked out the door.

“Oh, yes, I’m afraid Ernie never quite got over you,” Judy was saying over her coffee.

Patricia smirked, more at herself than at the comment.

“But I’m glad you found the life you truly wanted with Byron.” Judy chuckled. “Ernie’s quite a good-looking man, but not your type at all.”

“He’ll find his Miss Right one of these days,” Patricia said for lack of anything else. “I’m totally in love with Byron, and I’m sure I always will be.” But she continued in thought. If I’m so in love with Byron, why am I having sex dreams about Ernie? She wondered what her old psychologist, Dr. Sallee, would say. Midlife crisis, I guess . . .

Later, they walked out back in the garden, which glowed resplendently in sun and flower blooms. Every so often a cicada would fly cumbersomely across their path, in search of a tree to hide in. Judy seemed more circumspect now, her mind mulling things as she ambled along over the fieldstone trail that snaked through the back property.

“I know what everyone thinks,” she said, plucking yellow petals off a small touch-me-not.

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody’s glad Dwayne is dead.”

Patricia’s train of thought stalled. You’ve got that right, she thought, but said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” She struggled to say something positive without sounding fake. “Dwayne was a difficult person to read. He was misunderstood and . . .” Careful! she thought. “He had a pretty bad upbringing. When you grow up around a lot of negativity . . . it has a negative effect on a person.”

“Oh, no. Everybody thinks Dwayne was a bad person and full well wanted to be.” Judy grabbed her sister’s arm. “But he wasn’t . He was a good man. He helped me so much. He loved me.”

He loved the free roof you put over his head, Patricia thought. He loved eating your food and spending your money. “ I know, Judy. I’m sure he was a good man.”

“And those two or three times he cheated on me?” Judy’s eyes were wide. “That was all my fault.”

Patricia ground her teeth. “Judy, how can that be your—”

“I gave him no choice. A wife has more responsibilities to her husband than just to run a business. I never made time for him. I was so busy with the company, I’d neglect my duties to him as a lover.”

Patricia wanted to wail. Dwayne had likely engaged in sexual infidelities more than two or three times. “Don’t stress yourself over it now,” was all she said.

“And those times he hit me?” Judy vigorously shook her head. “I had it coming.”

At that Patricia had to object. “Judy, no woman ever has it coming. No woman should ever be hit by a husband.”

“You don’t know, Patricia. I’m sure I frustrated him, and then when I get to drinkin’ . . . I can understand why he done what he done.”

This was going nowhere. Be a lawyer , Patricia ordered herself. Judy is the claimant and she’s just lost her case in litigation. Offer your summation, Counselor. . . . “ It may be true that a lot of people here didn’t like Dwayne, but that’s only because nobody really knew him. Only you knew the real Dwayne, Judy. You know he was a good man. You know he was a good husband. He’s gone now, in a terrible accident, so the best thing you can do is honor his memory by not caring about what other people might think. Remember Dwayne to yourself as the positive force he was in your life and all the happiness he gave you.”

Patricia nearly gagged on her words, yet they seemed to do the trick. Judy’s angst was quelled now, and she quieted into contentedness, a sedate smile on her face.

Patricia held her hand as they continued their walk through high ranks of flowers and hedges. She felt awful at her next thought. My God, I’m so glad that ex-con prick is dead. Maybe now my sister will find a man who’ll be good for her for a change. . . .

They sat down on a stone bench at the end of the path. Sparrows frolicked in a birdbath. The air around them hung still in the sun, and through the trees Patricia could see the glint of the river that emptied into the bay around the other side of the Point. It really is beautiful here, she realized. The thrum of the cicadas pulsed.

“It’s going to be hard to keep on . . . without Dwayne,” Judy said. “The business ‘n’ all, I mean.”

Patricia smirked. “Any loss takes a while to get over, but you’ll be fine.” Her words hardened with insistence. “Your company is turning ten times the profit that Mom and Dad got out of it. You’re a very successful, self-made businesswoman.”

“Oh, that’s silly. The only reason the business thrives now is because of the new boats and equipment that you loaned me the money for.”