[xx] The moth in my stomach
has been trying to crawl up my throat for days.
He thinks that you are light.
He thinks that you can save him.
He thinks that you will.
Every once in while, she could read his mind. About a decade together and she’d learned his less is more language better than most. “Okay, but this doesn’t work at being ours if we don’t get something you like too, so like, you gotta. We could build something, if the land is right. And you gotta get over the my money being mine, I beg of you.” It was weird, and it didn’t make her feel good that he was adverse to even pretending like it existed for something that was theirs. If he wanted to buy like, a new bass boat, with her money that only he’d use, she could understand this. But this was their house. Theirs. “Plus, all the songs that charted were about you anyway, so get over it. Let’s get a place we like, and then if we hate it in five years, we’ll buy another one.” She waved a hand. It would earn her an eye roll.
“It’s all and a half. You love me more than you know what to do with, admit it,” she said with a grin and tugged on his belt gently. “I’m not, right now I’m just fine and dandy. While I know there are things you’d like to hear, I know better than to bring them up because you, my sweet man, don’t know when to not joke and there lies the problem.” She gently poked her thumb into the spot above his buckle and was met with muscle. She almost forgot he’d been working out that hard. “You gonna watch him again, or me, because if you want that runway show, he’s fine, and we should get back home,” June grinned at him.
-
“Okay but--” he started, “listen to what you just said. Your money.” He said, hard stop. “It’s yours, you made it. It’s not mine.” It wasn’t necessarily pride, he wasn’t a prideful man for the most part, but it was a sense of he didn’t work for it, so it wasn’t his. And even then, most of the things weren’t his. “That doesn’t make it anymore mine.” He rolled his eyes, “hate songs about me? Come on.” While, for a minute they were very helpful in getting him laid, the long term, not so great if he was just walking in a store, and it was a not so nice song about him or something he’d done or a negative idea of him. “I thought thats what we were doing.” He said looking at her for a long second, “are you doing something else?”
“Mmmmm.” He murmured, “don’t go spreadin’ that rumour, people will start believin’ it.” He said, low enough for just her to hear, not that he’d seen anyone else there today. He pressed yet another kiss to her lips before laughing, “that doesn’t sound like me. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never drive a joke home like a paid comedian.” He said, a bold faced lie right in front of her. “I’m pretty sure you’re the problem and you just don’t know how to laugh at a great joke.” He shrugged, like that could, in any world, actually be the problem. “I have to watch him.” He sighed, “it’s not my fault I’m pretty sure you were trying to purposefully distract me.” Was she actually doing that? He would never know, but he was distracted none the less. “Please walk him again, I’m gonna look at his ass and not yours, promise.”
“Then you better give that woman a baby like yesterday,” Colt said with a shrug. “But, the devil ain’t want your ass, that’s why you’re still walking around,” he laughed to himself. “Which is good news for me, really. Otherwise I’ve have to talk to the dog and she’s sick of me.” The black lab was nowhere to be seen. Which was like her. She’d given her hello sniff and collected a single pet from Vann and then made off to where. At the sperm donor remark, Colt actually did let out a laugh. “We both know ain’t no one of worth donating sperm.” The mention of not making the rules made Colt give a sage nod. Get married and suddenly everything you ever did was wrong and had to be done a different way, it was like, there were no free decisions these days. Which was a different thing he was battling with more and more and he didn’t bring it up. “Eh, she’d probably say marrying you has been wild enough, and she’d not fucking crazy enough to do it again. Except, it would come more sweet. Also, I don’t think I ever said I told you so about her, so I am saying it now. Told you so.” They were apparently in a fight when that happened. Colt never really fought with Vann so the silence wasn’t something he picked up on. “Anyway, is that all that’s new? She wants to make you a Dad soon?”
-
“I think she’s still on birth control.” He said, brow furrowed, “I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything about it. Unless her asking was her saying something about it.” He looked at Colt, or really, looked through Colt. Maybe they hadn’t had the same conversation, maybe she was telling him. He shook his head, he couldn’t think that deep into it now. “No, you’ll talk to your crazy girlfriend.” He said, laughing, “then she’ll get annoyed with you, and then tell me that I have to babysit you, and then I get to stand there and be confused with the concept.” That whole conversation still threw him a bit. “I’m sure theres some college athletes low on money. A nice beer pong champion four frat parties running. Smart men, tall men?” Vann kept rattling off options, “way better than me.” He said, she could make a good complement, make the best kid possible. “It ain’t been wild.” Vann almost instantly disagreed. “She takes so many naps, litters all around the house. She doesn’t cook, she doesn’t clean.” He rolled his eyes, “probably the most relaxing time if her life.” He laughed, she was ridiculous, but this time was somethings he needed. “Told me so what?” He asked, that’d been so long ago, he’d slept a lot since then. “She’s lookin’ at houses that cost more than some people will make in a lifetime, I mean, regular stuff.”
“You know how much an extra two percent is?” He had a point, she was just being a type of way because this realtor — the group really — was the one that listed the best properties that matched what they wanted. But he had a point, June had a headache that couldn’t be sorted out. Plus the name of the game changed when you were able to pay in cash for things. Almost no one ever paid in cash for the things — especially something like that but that was how June was. She wasn’t someone who took out loans. As he mentioned the covered arena, June nodded. “I’ve been focusing on the ranch, not the house so much. I figured we can fix the house, can’t fix the land. We could put chutes in that one. I like the barns too,” June said with a nod. Despite what it sounded, she wasn’t in a rush. “Vann?” She didn’t want for an answer, “You know if you found something you liked here and it’s not on the list, or what I was looking at, we could do that too, right?”
As he asked her to walk Duck off, she nodded and paused because he wasn’t a sweetheart with her, he was a peach, and she glanced back over her shoulder to him as she walked away. “Baby, I ain’t convinced you’re in half love with me, I think I got the whole of it,” she said with a wink and did what he asked, because he asked nicely and it was necessary, and they always did this. Walking Duck back to him, her fingers looped into his belt and she stepped up to him. “I’m in a good mood, so I might tell you more about that Vann Richmond effect and how fucking annoying it when it’s on anyone but me.”
-
“A drop in the bucket.” He said simply. Sure, it was probably a lot, they were looking at things in excess of a million dollars, which was ridiculous to him, he hated Georgia, he didn’t want to live here, but if she did, that was that. Easy math, two percent was more than the average person made a year. June however, didn’t play that game. “Yeah I know.” He said, because the houses on the places she was picking weren’t places he could necessarily see her in. “You know, you can also build whatever building outside too?” Arguably cheaper than fixing a house, he knew how she worked, and they’d be living in her current house for a year until the other one was what she liked. But by that point, it would have been easier to just start from scratch. She said his name and his brow rose, “I know.” He nodded, “but I ain’t really-- looking.” He was still having a hard time coming to terms with the whole, whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine. She was looking at houses that were out of his tax bracket, and it was her money. She could get what she wanted. It wasn’t their money, not to him.
“Nah,” he started, a smirk growing on his face as she winked but did what he’d asked anyways, “I think it’s just half.” He said, watching her way more than he should have been, only for her to be back at the start and he hadn’t been looking at the horse at all. “You don’t look at that annoyed.” A hand went to the small of her back, pulling her closer so he could press a kiss to her lips. “You seem fine.” The corners of his mouth pulled upwards into a devil may care smirk, “but uh--” He continued, “you’re gonna have to do that again.” He shrugged, “I didn’t pay all that much attention to the horse.”
“What are we? In the fucking— colonial times where we died at 35?” Colt rolled his eyes. Did he feel old? Yeah, every fucking day, especially when a horse kicked him for doing work on it. Did his knee suck from years of training? Yeah. But that was a fact of life. It was just aging. “We’re a third of the way through our lives, probably less given how the medical industry is advancing. Just because we feel like old fucking men, doesn’t mean shit.” Colt went back to dicking with the weather station, trying to adjust the wheel to measure the windspeed on it. “Over here acting like we’re halfway through our lives, tired of you,” Colt said with a snort and a small grin, once he got the wheel where he wanted it to be he returned his focus back to Vann, the goofiness was gone and he was more muted and then asked, “Is that really what you’re worried about? Because being old is a gift, my man. Give your wife kids, because she’ll need someone to take care of her when you croak at 97 in two years.” He did laugh at his joke, because it was half the fun, was to joke about. “Question, when you die in two years at 97, is she allowed to marry again or gonna make her be a widow for the next seventy years?” He was being a bit of an asshole comedian, entertaining himself, but something had to amuse him these days, and fuck this was it.
-
“I could very well die at 35.” He said, rolling his eyes. His career was inherently dangerous, more so than most peoples. “I live my life on borrowed time, dude.” One day he wouldn’t, but the wear and tear on his body now would haunt him forever. “So says you. If I make it to 60 everyone is gonna be surprised. And my hypothetical children ain’t gotta have a dad see them graduate high school.” Maybe the math was a little off, but the dramatic effect was still on point. Vann watched as he fucked with whatever he was doing, “what, you’re so old you can’t even do that.” He pointed to the machine and laughed. He was techinally older than Vann, he should have been more worried. “Maybe she should pick a sperm donor, make a smarter kid. A taller kid.” He laughed, though he knew good and well that would never happen. “She’s allowed to do whatever she wants. What makes you think I make the rules?” He shook his head, “she could get married again tomorrow if she wants, that’s up to her.”
Looking him over, he spoke about the June Watson effect, but he had a picky memory to realize the Vann Richmond effect was even more annoying. “You’re just a little rusty on your Vann Richmond effect. That and it would probably be really inappropriate these days,” she said with a grin. “The Vann Richmond effect goes like this, you smile at a woman, call her sweetheart and darling with your accent and blue eyes, and suddenly they’re hanging on you, convinced you’re half in love with them. They tend to trip over their words. So, you know, you gotta work on maturing your effect and I’ll work on muting mine a bit, because baby I don’t know how much more of her rambling I can take.” There was only room for one person to talk that much, and it was her, and she didn’t even talk that much compared to the realtor.
As he bent over to work, June adjusted where she was standing, because a view was a view, and she was nothing if not visual when it came to the things she found beautiful. She was only half listening for a second, because while she hated what this did to him when he was doing it all the time, she did love all the little aspects of him. He’d never believe her, he’d roll his eyes at her, but in her head, in these moments, she was just falling for him over again, for the third time that day. “We save on the closing costs if we go with her, since she’s the listing agent too.” June spoke like she didn’t have money, but there were things she was willing to drop money on and things she wasn’t, and this was one of them. She had these weird moments of frugality just on principal.
-
He didn’t have a response for that. Mostly because he didn’t think there was a Vann Richmond effect. Just because he had manners? He didn’t make his voice or his eyes, he couldn’t control any of those things. They were just how he was. What was he supposed to do? Just never talk to anyone again? Busy with Duck’s hind foot however, kept his mind occupied,. Stopping to eye it for balance a few times in between rasping, he rolled the edge of the hoof before setting it down and giving the horse another pet. “Closing costs?” He rose his brow at her, “you’re concerned about saving closing costs?” She was so weird. All he could do was shake his head. She was going keep the worst realtor in the world, pay her a commission for being the worst, only to save what she would have saved in sanity by not having her. Made no sense but he had a feeling this was a fight that wasn’t fit for picking.
“I forget which one it was.” He started, “but one of the ones we saw Wednesday wasn’t so bad.” Vann had always been someone who needed to marinate on something, asking his opinion on something same day didn’t get you anywhere, he needed to think about it. Picture a life somewhere, especially if they were buying something. His ghetto house? No thought, it was a roof and privacy. His last ranch? Almost 2 weeks to make his mind up. “I don’t really remember the house, but I can appreciate a covered arena.” They’d have to put in chutes, and make it actually work for them, him really, but it was what it was. “Did you like any of the ones today?” He asked, before taking a step back, looking from her to the roan, “you mind walkin’ him away from me, sweetheart?” He asked, while a necessary question, he needed to see the foot falls, make sure they were flat, but he was also still mildly interested in this Vann Richmond effect.
where → savannah, GA
with → julia richmond, mentions @junewatson
She didn’t change, he stood there casually watching the blonde as she read a book and he zipped up his Carhartt vest over a button down with some sort of print, sun shining though the window, back lighting her in the most perfect way. She looked the same as she did when they’d met a decade ago, and he was the one that looked like he’d aged forty years, at least he thought he did. He stood there absent minded for a few more seconds until he noticed she was looking back at him, “what?” She asked, a confused look on her face and he just shook his head, “nothing, baby.” He smiled at her before turning away. He’d have to spend the rest of his life trying to convince her she hadn’t married down, and he could continue with the knowledge that he’d married up.
Moving back to their bedroom, he padded into June’s closet only to look for her jewelry case. She had a lot, probably too much if you asked him but no one ever did so he never gave an opinion. He opened the case looking for one thing, only to stop when he found it-- his wedding ring. The one he’d only put on once at June’s request to make sure it fit, then he took it off and handed it back to her, never to see it again, until now. He plucked it from the foam and velvet insert, it looked like the ring of a giant compared to all the small ones around it. Ones that fit petite fingers. Back to his closet it slid off the black silicone band he’d not taken off in months, he’d finally gotten used to it. The half a second it was gone his hand felt wrong. Strange how that happened, for months it felt heavy and he hated it, it was misplaced, now it was the opposite.
But in the second it was off he slid the other one on. Metal was cold against his finger, it was heavier, and almost immediately his finger wanted to ache from the weight. Rings were weird. He didn’t understand how people wore them, how June wore a hundred on her hands at once. Silver? White? Weird gold? Around a black core, it was very much looked like something that June had picked out, but it was fine. He didn’t care, it was fine. He was wearing this one to make a point, along with everything else. He was doing fine, without them. He didn’t need them or their comments. Back to the bathroom for a second, he looked at himself in the mirror, he looked like something straight out of a Wrangler catalog, mostly because June was back to June antics, buying him clothing when she didn’t need to, and he’d told her that but it fell of deaf ears because she was still coming home with stuff.
Vann found himself walking back out to June, he didn’t really want to go meet his mother for lunch, but if he was anything he was a man of his word and he’d always done what he said he would. Minus the one time June was in the hospital but extenuating circumstance prevailed for that. Leaning down, his arms found their way around her shoulders and he pressed a kiss to the top of the blonde’s head. “You look good.” She said.
“Mmmmm.” He murmured in her ear. Her hands found his as they always did, and she played with the metal band on his left hand, “you fancy married today?” He couldn’t help but laugh at that, “yeah, somethin’ like that.” He rolled his eyes at her, despite her not being able to see them, he hoped she could feel it. She was ridiculous. “I don’t want to have lunch with her.” He sighed, he was speaking quietly like they weren’t the only ones in the house, but he always did when he was talking about things he would rather not, whether it be tasks or emotions. “She’s your mom.” June said in the exasperated tone she reserved for him when he was being a little ridiculous, “yeah, but I don’t--” he started, but June interrupted, “don’t. You’ve put this off for too long already. Just get over it.” He laughed at that before pressing a kiss to her cheek which prompted the blonde to turn her head and catch one on her lips. “Fine, but somehow this is your fault and you’re going to make it up to me.” June laughed at him, “I have and idea or two.” She said in her devil may care way, and he perked a brow, “lets do that instead of me leavin’.” She shook her head, “nope, no dice.” He sighed, “fine.” He said again as he stood up once more. “Baby you really do look good.” She said again, and he rolled his eyes, this time for her to see, “you always say that.” He said, and she shrugged, “well it’s always true.”
--
He told her he’d meet her at her favorite restaurant in Savannah. Mostly because he didn’t want to go home, have her cook something and have to eat lunch with his father too. He wasn’t in the mood. That was something he would have to build up months for, and he hadn’t been doing that. Of course she was there early and he was verging on late. He had always been of the mentality that the party didn’t start until he got there, even if it was a lunch with his mother, and he hadn’t seen her since the summer. A lifetime of moments had happened between now and then, and the way she smiled at him through well placed tears ate at him a little. A mothers love was different any other kind, even if her venom had been misplaced.
“Baby.” She said between tears as she got up forcing her arms around him like he was the only comforting thing in he life and she’d been missing it for quite some time. Vann wasn’t rigid in her arms he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a squeeze until she finally let go. It must of been minutes, but he let her, he was guilty for the time he’d been absent. “You look exactly the same.” She said as they sat down across from each other, a direct contradiction to the way he’d felt that morning prior, but maybe a mother knew best. Her eyes scanned him for defects and injuries as they always did when she saw him, like he was a danger to himself, but the bypassed his body and settled on his left hand. The attention to it drew his hand and he twisted the ring around his finger for a second, “how was the wedding?” She asked still holding back a bigger emotion she knew would scare him away. As much as the both liked to deny and disagree to this point, he was his father’s son. “We didn’t really have one. It was 10 minutes in the middle of a rodeo on a whim.” He said with a shrug, a small hint of a smile pulling the corner of his mouth upwards. As much as he wanted a real wedding it was fitting that they didn’t have one. They never did anything right.
“It’s been too long.” She said simply, and he shrugged, “that ain’t my fault.” He said, giving her a pointed look, “I know.” She said with a small frown. Richmonds were people of small gestures that spanned galaxies. If you didn’t know to read it you’d think they were emotionless, but the smallest tug on a pair of lips, a little twitch in a fingertip? That was all you needed to know there was a faucet on somewhere in the depths of their cores. “I was just--” she paused looking up at him through grey eyes, “I was worried about you. You ain’t ever listen to someone when it comes to her, and I was just afraid she’d go and do what she always does to you.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger, “that ain’t your call to make, that’s what got us here. And fuck knows what you said to her.” He gave his mother a look, “she won’t even tell me and it’s been months. You don’t get to talk to her like that, I don’t talk to her like that. No one can.” He said, heavy in his tone, his southern accent pushing husky as it did when he was trying to be the bear in the conversation, much like his father. “I ain’t an idiot.” He said, “I go back to her for a reason, not because I just think she’s hot and famous.” He rolled his eyes, “she wasn’t that when I met her.” Well she’d always been hot, but that wasn’t a conversation he had with his mother. Hell, he didn’t even have it with his buddies, he didn’t want anyone thinking about her that way to his knowledge other than himself. He had June’s hot conversations with June, because those always led somewhere fun.
“I know whats good for me.” He continued, “you should know that, I thought you taught me to know what is good for me. When did you mistrust your judgement in me?” He asked, and that prompted the woman to speak, “I didn’t, Vann. I don’t know, I just know how you were when she left the last time.” He shook his head at the woman, “No you don’t. You weren’t there. You didn’t see me for a year, you don’t know a damn thing about what happened to me.” He disappeared off the face of the earth. Left his phone in his house then left his house for somewhere else. He’d still never told anyone where he went, and at this point in his life, he probably never would. Only person who might want to know would be June, but he knew that was a particular wound she knew to not dig at, as it hurt her the same amount. “I know what’s good for me, you gotta remember that.” He said with a shrug as the waitress came up to the table during a calm in the conversation. They placed their orders and continued after she’d left.
“I’m sorry.” She said after a long pause. The pair of them drinking out of now empty cups looking at each other, “okay.” He said, exhaling, “can you tell her I’m sorry?” Vann shook his head, “no. Tell her yourself. That ain’t my beef.” He said, he wasn’t a messenger, he’d never been. And just like that, it was done with. Maybe because he was sitting there in front of her, and reading the regret on her face, and ache he could only assume a mother felt when she didn’t see her child for far too long, and for all of that, he felt guilty. “We saw you’ve been riding again.” She said, and he nodded, “and doing well?” She asked but it wasn’t really a question. He had been. With the last rodeo he’d went to, his last for 2022, he was comfortably sitting number 2. It was a nice way to start the new year, knowing he didn’t have to make big leaps to get to a place he could cruise on. “I’ve been doing fine.” He wasn’t puff chested to his mother, more reserved than he was to anyone else. “I assume you and June are fine?” She brought her back into the conversation, “she’d okay with you riding again?” She asked, but the ice was thin, they both knew that. “I had already started again before we got back together.” He said with a shrug, “she doesn’t seem to mind.” And if she did, she kept it quiet. But it was half her idea, she was the one that told him to go back out on the road.
The conversation continued much like this, Julia peeling back one layer carefully as he would allow, much like his father, until it was an easy conversation. There was a certain way to navigate the Richmond boy, she’d learned it with his father, and he was very much the same in repeating the controls. Eventually they finished eating, Vann grabbed the bill despite his mother’s protests, and they were hugging goodbye. He didn’t realize how much that was sitting on his chest, and how light it felt with it gone, at least for now. Would it stay that way? He didn’t know, he couldn’t predict the future.
Back home, he treaded through the door with heavy feet. “Baby?” He heard June yell through the house, and he followed her voice, only to find her in about the same face he’d left her in. “You move at all?” He laughed out, “all day?” He asked, as he moved through the room, only to stand in front of her, giving her shoulders a quick shake, and she laughed and pushed him away. “What?” He said, “I was making sure you hadn’t grown roots.” He shrugged before walking back to their bathroom and closets, he was wearing far too many clothes to sit on the couch.
He grabbed the silicone ring he’d left on his dressed and swapped it with the metal one, only to turn and see June there, “so?” She asked, and he handed her the ring instead of walking to her closet himself. “It was fine.” He said louder than he would have until she came back, finishing his low work of his vest. He started on the buttons on his shirt, but her hands were there just as quick, “and?” Expectant eyes trying to stare a hole into his soul, “she cried, said she was sorry--” He said like that was the only thing that would have happened, “okay but there was more.” June said, with a huff, pulling the shirt off his back, “that’s it.” He said, always short with the details, “and now I am here to collect on what you owe me.” He said, smirk on his face, “you’ve already half taken off my clothes, I mean--” he shrugged, and she rolled her eyes, but there was no protest. “Wanna take a shower?” He asked as he kicked his shoes off, and she shrugged, “sure.” She said in response. Sexy he thought to himself, but she was slipping out of her clothes and thats when it hit him that it really didn’t need it to be, he just needed her.
A shower between them never was an effort to conserve water. They went in, water was hot, they came out, and they were using their body heat to stay warm because the water was little better than ice. “New house has to have a second water heater.” He said with a laugh, as he walked out his closet, sweater and sweatpants, only to see June in nothing but one of his shirts, oversized on her small frame. “So you can kill the environment even more?” She said, a blonde brow popping up, “thats all you farmers do. Just trash the environment.” She said in a mocking tone, and he huffed, “I hate you.” And she bust out laughing, “Vann no.” She ran after him, hopping on his back, “you don’t. You love me.” She said, a kiss pressed to his neck, “no, I think its hate.” He said, but he supporter her legs with his hands none the less, “I’m no a fuckin’ farmer.” He grumbled at her, “but you are.” She said, chin resting on his shoulder as he walked her back out the living room, dropping her on the couch.
“Can you get me a new drink?” She asked as she held up a half full cup, “It’s stale.” She said, triggering a look she knew all too well with a sly smile. Without a work, he grabbed the cup, she was dumb. But he went and came back, new water, and he sat down next to her, head going to her lap like it was a pillow grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “Oh.” He said, looking up at her, “we’re goin’ to church on Sunday.” He said causally as he turned the TV on, and June looked down at him, mildly shook, “excuse me, what?”
“Yeah that first one was weird,” June said with a nod. She didn’t get it. It was like a weird collection of building blocks that a toddle assembled by committee… a committee of toddlers that didn’t agree. It didn’t look that bad from the listing, but damn, that’s why you visited the places. The land was nice though, the house could be contended with. If they wanted to go that route. Him saying the others were alright made her slightly frown. She didn’t have any feelings either way. She wanted something that felt like theirs, but nothing was doing it. Chasing an old high, an old feeling, she was looking for the ranch but in a different state and he wasn’t excited about any of them.
At the mention of the realtor, June groaned. “Thank God, I cannot stand her. I was hoping you’d be as annoyed as I was. It was luck of the draw. Bad luck.” The realtor didn’t stop talking, didn’t stop trying to sell them things, didn’t stop the flattery train — and it was phony. June could only handle so much, and anything she said, nice or critical was overly headed. It was a lot, really, and even though June was not easily annoyed, in this case she was. “But she’s the only with that level of portfolio,” June said, pinching the bridge of her nose. There was one realtor who listed the larger ranches.
-
“I call that the June Watson effect.” He said, casually leaning over the roan horse’s back as he looked at the blonde. “People have so much to say to you, because you’re you. They want you to like them, so they just keep talkin’ forever until you look at me, and I’m standin’ there unimpressed and you say we gotta go.” He recalled most of their public outings lately, like he was telling a story he’d told a thousand times. “When it’s just me, no one has that much to say, no one wants me to like them. No one wants to be my best friend.” He laughed, “people just want a piece of you, baby, even if they don’t deserve one.”
Vann slowly ran a hand down Duck’s back before scratching his butt for a second, and moving to pick up his back leg, “can’t like, any realtor show you any place?” He asked, looking up from his bent over stature before going back to cleaning out the hoof. Once that was done he set it down and looked back to June, “unless you want a new best friend, then I mean, we can keep her.” He laughed at his own joke, “you could put her on your calendar for coffee or something, a fun time.”
“Well, she’s more famous than Jesus, so you got a lot of fringe problems, the packages being one of them,” Colt said with a snort of a laugh. If he was honest, he did feel for Vann. All the cardboard, things just lined up and in the way… it made him annoyed just thinking about it. Annoyed was the common feeling he was having lately, which was a different crisis, that he was losing the fun side of himself in all this, but that was on him. Pretty soon he’d need to come to grips with the world not ever evening out again it just being like it is, and carry on. But right now, he was gonna be annoyed about it. “What’s the hesitation?” Colt asked. Vann wasn’t really afraid of much. Losing June, maybe. Colt knew that getting on a bull made him feel something of scared but he still did it. Vann was joking but there was something to it, and Colt tended to cut through the fat of it when it mattered. “You and I both know anyone who says raising kids is easy is full of shit, but also, anyone who says it’s hard is also full of shit. It’s just different.” Colt nodded to down the hall where Willa was running back and forth with toys to show Midnight. The black lab seemed to look on with an impressed stare. “You’d be good at it. Need a sense of humor and a good work ethic,” Colt said with a grin. “And no one ever called you lazy or not funny, so.”
-
“I wouldn’t say that.” He said almost with a laugh, “I think Jesus has one up on her. I know a lot of people who have no idea who she is outside of me, which is strange, but it is what it is.” He shrugged, okay maybe it wasn’t a lot. They held court in almost the same circles, but there was a handful. “Wished the boxes wouldn’t magically leave, she ain’t even like half the shit in ‘em.” Maybe it would have been different if the stuff that was sent was good, instead it was just a lot of stuff they ended up throwing out. “I’m old.” He said with a shrug, “and if we do the math, if the kid goes to college, I’ll be in my 60s when it finally like, can grow up and be on its own, and fuck man.” He shook his head, “that’s so old.” A lifetime ago they’d talked about kids and how many they wanted, hell they’d named them. It was a blessed life, but that was ten years ago. “I’ve been called not funny a lot lately, which is a real shame, because you’re right, I am funny.”
“I’m not someone who cares to hear about a person through someone who isn’t the person themselves. It rarely comes off like the third party intends,” Paxton said with a shrug. If he wanted to keep himself to himself, then it was fine by her. “I’d rather hear about a person from a person themselves.” How someone spoke about themselves told a lot more to her than the other way. “And for the record, poisoning people is bad for business. My name means something when it comes to this,” she gestured to the plate. And it did. Her name meant everything when it came to food, and she took it very seriously. “It’s funded, but the space and particulars have not started. I’ve only begun to start looking at right locations. Takes a lot more than people think, to open a restaurant of that caliber. Plus, I am really here more as a favor to Cricket than anything else. If I wasn’t asked by him, I wouldn’t be here.” A favor for a favor. “But thank you.” She nodded at the thanks, she was humble in praise and thanks, even if she knew she was great, not good. “Do you hunt anything else? I don’t know the seasons for things here.”
-
“A lot of things are bad for business, that doesn’t stop people from doing them.” She could be up on her high horse as much as she wanted, he didn’t know her, and yet there she was, standing in his house. The ease at which June let strangers in their house was weird to him, she was too trusting of people, or maybe he wasn’t enough. Either way people did things they shouldn’t do, all the time. “Opening anything thing takes a lot of effort.” He said, he wasn’t blind to that. He’d opened a thing or two in his life, Maybe just one thing, but still, he knew it was a lot, no matter what it was. “You probably don’t need to be here.” He said with a shrug, “would have survived without for a few days, we’re not invalids.” Did he appreciate the gesture? Well, for him, no. He didn’t think they needed a cook. He thought that was stupid, and he would until he was six feet under. But did he understand how it was helpful for June? Yes. Someone needed to be around to eat with her, it couldn’t always be him. “I try to hunt a lot of things, I don’t end up killing half the things I try to hunt.” He said with a laugh, “ain’t a great hunter. Ain’t even a good one.”
“He’s bringing Aly’s fucking package addiction,” Colt said under his breath so that only Vann could hear. What was it with people and Amazon prime? It was like, whatever they could order they ended up getting. He had special ice cube molds that he didn’t need. Putting the screwdriver down, he added, “Bold of you to think that I know where things are. I just open all the cabinets until I find what I need. I built the house but I won’t claim I own any domain over it other than my name on the deed. She unpacked and organized it all, which is fine.” Colt had been in charge of putting together all the furniture and otherwise lifting more of the heavy stuff and making beds. “New truck? Same as the other but nicer?” Vann was a Ford guy, and Colt didn’t really have an allegiance to a truck as long as it had the right capacity he needed. He was in a Dodge because that was what came with the practice but he drove that old Bronco long before anything else. He put the weather station down when he watched the Vann equivalent of sputtering take place over his wife wanting a kid. He cracked a smile. “They always know when to ask us for shit, usually when we’re all content, relaxed, having a slice of peace, and such and then bam, hey baby, I want this, or hey baby can you build me that…” Colt shook his head. “You gonna give her one?”
-
“Oh no.” Vann shook his head, interrupting him, “you don’t even understand the package thing until you look in my damn dining room.” He said, rolling his eyes. “She doesn’t even order half the stuff she gets, and then she never opens anything. She just leaves it to sit and accumulate. Its like your box room, but it grows and breathes.” it was a lot. There was more than either of them knew what to do with, and even when they spent hours opening, there were still more to open. “Yeah, it’s better that way.” He agreed. He’d put something somewhere June didn’t want it, and she’d end up moving it anyways. That bugged him to no end, him doing something only for someone else to change it later, so why waste the time? “I ordered a new one a little over 3 months ago, asked her if she wanted to do the interior, she did and never told me what she picked.” He didn’t care about that sort of thing, but she did. “I didn’t really get a say.” He never said yes or no, he just existed in the same moment with the question. “I could go get a sneaky vasectomy.” He laughed, “she’d probably be upset about that though.”
He was, as it stood, about to lose his Dodge Ram mind. The crisis had eased off some with Pike going to Eddie’s, which was one less thing to handle, but a lot of Colt’s sense of humor had melted away. He did too much too soon, really, and there was no one to blame but himself. He figured he’d ease up sooner, and the larger house and less things and people had eased off the breaking point for Colt, but he was still feeling like he was close to it. He was structured, always, forever, and that was part of the problem. At the sight of Vann, Colt put down the new weather station he got for Christmas and actually chuckled. “At least you weren’t the Amazon driver. She wanted to invite them in the last time.” He walked to the front door, glanced at the sheetrock, and sighed. The doorstops saved them. He’d probably have to walk to outside if the sheetrock was damaged, but Colt was actually smart and prepared well. “Very expensive maitre’d, way more than a normal maitre’d salary, if you ask me.” He moved to gesture to the fridge, and then the cabinet and he went back to fiddling with the weather station he’d need to climb onto the roof to install later. “Beer and tea in the fridge, glasses in the cabinet, make yourself at home. How was Christmas with the Richmonds? Get anything nice?”
-
“Anyone bringing presents is worth lettin’ in.” He said rather matter of factly, “and I think the Amazon guy is bringin’ good stuff.” He continued, not that he’d ever ordered anything from Amazon but June’d gotten boxes of stuff and she always seemed pleased. Maybe one day he’d get into online shopping, but a lot of things would have to change for him to even have access. Sure, he stole June’s computer every once in awhile, but even then, that wasn’t anything that happened often. “Damn.” He said with a long whistle, “you get a fancy job and get a fancy staff to go along with it.” He laughed, “too expensive for my blood.” Which was kind of ironic coming from his mouth, but he was little more than a glorified hobo. “Funny you think I know where anything is.” Here, June’s house-- he knew where the glasses were in his ghetto house, that was easy. People moving shit, expecting him to know. But he started to look around before ultimately changing his mind and going to the fridge for a simple bottle of beer, wouldn’t need a glass for that. “Nothin’ special.” He said with a shrug, popping the top of the beer, “she got me a pocket knife, finally showed me the interior samples she picked for my new truck.” He shrugged, taking a drink, “I didn’t want anything.” He was hard to shop for, mostly because if he wanted something, he just got it, there wasn’t anything that he wanted for. He was cheap, expensive things didn’t impress him. “Told me she wanted a baby, you know, regular Christmas stuff.”
“Shouldn’t sell yourself short, I am sure you were fun, once. While I have a hard time fathoming it, I am certain that’s the case,” Paxton said with a smile and a nod. He didn’t seem like company she would keep outside of the job, but she did believe he had to have been fun and maybe even funny once upon a time. Younger, less worn. He just seemed… salty. She supposed she seemed the same way in a lot of ways, but Paxton was never someone people called nice. She had been called a bitch more than once. “You don’t need to sell her to me, I have no qualms with either of you.” This just wasn’t what she did, she was doing this more as a favor than not. Which meant that all it took was the slightest inconvenience and she was something of annoyed, and that wasn’t their fault. “I was a menace on the playground, with my insults,” Paxton joked back. Not untrue, if understated. At his question, she crinkled her nose at home chef. “Personal chef, is that they prefer to be call, I think.” She clasped her hands together. “I used to own a restaurant in France, I sold it. At one time the Michelin guide had included it.” Understatement but she didn’t like to brag. “I’ve been funded to open one here, in this town.” Paxton wasn’t so stupid to not know who June was, him, though, he was more of a mystery. “I know you were a farrier. Cricket mentioned rodeo, but I stopped listening.” She wasn’t someone who cared to know too much personal information of strangers. “I’d think you’d have to be excellent in more avenues than one to be with a woman like her.”
-
“I’m fun now.” He said with a shrug, just not fun for the girl cooking for him. He didn’t care what she thought, especially if she was going to be rigid. “I wasn’t trying to.” He said shaking his head, “I don’t really--” Vann paused, “care if you like us or not, just would prefer you to not poison her is all.” Not that the girl would, didn’t seem like the murdering type, but a lot of people that didn’t look dangerous were hurting the small blonde, and he didn’t find himself trustong well, anyone. “I’m sure you were.” He said, “it’s the squirrely ones you gotta worry about.” The quiet ones, the ones you didn’t think had the ability to do something, they always did. “Good to know.” He said, but was all potato potahto to him. Same difference. “Have you done that yet? I can assume not since you’re standing in my wife’s kitchen.” Wasn’t his kitchen, wasn’t his house. The distinction wasn’t really necessary, but at this point, he was a subconscious habit. He also thought a chef with that kind of restaurant wouldn’t have the extra time to be doing this. “Well, if you stopped listening, I wouldn’t want to burden you with the knowledge.” He said with a shrug, taking a bite. Food was good, he would give her that, “this is good.” He motioned to the plate, “thank you.”
While traditionally, December seemed to be his least busy month, what extra time he might of spent drinking or doing literally anything else, he found himself spending that time with June. He assumed that was what it was to be married, to like to spend time with your wife, and he assumed that would fade, but in the months they’d been married or the years before that, it’d never happened, he wasn’t sure it ever would. He knocked once and the door was flung open with all the strength you’d expect from a small child, “who are you?” She asked, and Vann looked down at the little girl, his existential crisis looking up at him in the form of a child that was not his own, “Vann.” He said, looking down at her. She returned his gaze for a second, before nodding, “you can come in.” He nodded back at her, and she swung the door with way too much force for a baby. causing it to slam and coincidentally rouse Colt from wherever he was, Vann could hear the man’s foot steps a little thundery down the hall. Colt saw him, and his eyes switched back and forth between him and the kid, and all Vann could do was shrug, “your maitre’d let me in.”
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