Sometimes Salas sat on a fence, where he’d snag his pants and watched the trains go by. As long as he got his work done there was no problem with it, but when it came to Helen…she…well, he knew she’d never go with him. Still the idea appealed to him didn’t it, tempting, but Salas knew that he couldn’t run away from his problems.
Those years had been the hardest of his life, yet the most memorable. Riding the rails with the luckless boys of the depression. Hopping on a train required skill because you had to wait until the train was moving. Salas remembered, recalling near mishaps. But of course, he was lucky; how could he not have been lucky? And how he’d always been lucky. Well, not always, but over time more often than not he had been. Salas had tried to make peace with that part of him that yearned for the road. And Helen was a stabilizing force of course. Solid, practical, down to earth, and generally optimistic. Often Salas told people that he owed her everything, and she in a real sense SAVED him, and now he’d probable lost everything they’d worked so hard for. Worrying about it kept him awake. He’d been lucky all of his life, but he had really messed up now. “This is how I repay Helen, my beautiful Helen. Oh, God!”
He’d soon know for sure whether they’d have to move or not. Talk about a rotten deal and his failure and his stupidity. He couldn’t tell Helen or face it yet. Though his mind was working out how he was going to brake it to her. He’d wait until morning. Until he knew for sure.
Helen was a forgiving person, amazingly forgiving…over the years she’d forgiven Salas many times. He complimented her whenever he could and was sincere about it. “Maybe I should go see an attorney,” he thought. The town only had one, and he happened to be a Democrat and Salas’ friend. So much admired, but unfortunately he represented Uncle Ned. But maybe the solution to the problem lay in Uncle Ned and not in an attorney. After all Salas and he were related, but there was still bad blood between them. And a bet was a bet. And Salas knew he that couldn’t back out of a bet. So Salas thought, if Dewey won, as he probably would, he’d have to shoot himself. No! That wasn’t an option for him.
He didn’t deserve Helen, and he knew it. What would she do or say when he told her? “What!” She tended not to say much. He could hear her saying, “I don’t understand.” Isn’t that what she would say? But there always was the danger that she wouldn’t say anything.
And it would hurt him. God, would it hurt. It was no wonder he couldn’t sleep.
“God help me. What are we going to do?”
Helen was still there, lying beside him. She’d kill him. And then what?
He felt nausea and couldn’t sleep and had to get up and go the bathroom and Helen would kill him. Why didn’t morning hurry up, so that he could go to his death? .
But morning didn’t hurry up, and his stomach kept him awake. He was getting what he deserved. Terrible! He was paying for his sins. He deserved a hangover. He shouldn’t have drunk anything at all. One beer wouldn’t hurt, he thought. He should’ve known better. If Helen had been there, she would’ve stopped him.
“God help me. She’s going to kill me.” What a mess he had made!
Helen had to have known something was wrong. From the way he acted, and as soon as he came in the door, she must’ve known. “You fool! You fool.” As soon as he came home… and dinner had been an ordeal, during which he had the radio on. Both of them were glued to the radio. They had broken a rule by having the radio on during dinner.
“God help us. We need your help now.”
The family Bible was lying on the mantel. It had been passed down from generation to generation. It was something they both cherished, but they generally didn’t open it except to record a move, a birth or a death. Now to Helen a move and a death amounted to almost the same thing. More difficult would be a combination of the two. For Salas, however, the opposite was true. He thrived on change. Except this time he foresaw a disaster. After hearing Dewey had a substantial lead, Helen removed the Bible from the mantel and read from Lamentations: “Remember my affliction and my bitterness…” That was as far as she got before she slammed the big book shut.
“Goddamn!”
Randy Ford
