Emmetsburg: Sixty-eight

J.L. sat down across from John. Their eyes met, and for an odd moment John was certain he knew the old farmer. As if there was something deeper that connected all things. John looked away first.

“Say Grace?” he asked.

“Good Lord’s tired of listening to my prayers,” J.L. replied. “Never seems to get’ round to them anyway. Reckon a lot other folks need prayers answered more than me.”

“Offended if I don’t?’

“More offended if you made a lot of promises you had no intention of keeping.”

John winked and smiled so hard he almost screamed, so hard that tears nearly came to him. He felt suddenly filled with light, and almost felt it would burst from his chest “Maybe I ought to quit while I’m ahead.”

J.L. smiled just as hard. “Maybe we both ought to.”

John pulled apart another biscuit and pressed the corner into the warm yellow yoke. He hadn’t realized quite how starved he was before that first bite. John washed it down with a bit of bitter black coffee.

“Hell of a thing,” John lamented.

“What’s that, son?’

“Hardest thing about loving someone that much. Brings a mighty burden on which one goes first.”

“Yep,” J.L. nodded slowly, chewing a bit of slightly over-salted pork. He lifted his cup and stared into the mirror-black liquid as if he was staring down a dark well. He almost took a sip, then set it back down.

“Wasn’t my choice,” he said.

John mulled the answer over a bit of egg and biscuit. He touched the handle of his cup with one finger and turned the cup slowly.

“What if you’d gone before her?”

“Think there was a time when we were young,” J.L. began. “I was pretty selfish about that. Those long empty hours in the fields I’d start wondering if I dropped dead that moment if she’d remain true to me. I ab-so-lute-ly hated the idea that she’d find another fella to fall in love with.”

John mopped up the last of the egg with a biscuit and chased it down with another sip of coffee. He leaned back in the chair a bit and patted the table with his hand in approval. J.L. winked proudly.

“Not too bad, eh?” he boasted.

“Fit for a king.”

“That it is,” J.L. Smirked, snapping his fingers below the table, like he was calling a dog, “Here, King. Come on, boy!”
John genuinely liked the old guy. He was a rare soul, a mile post on the treacherous journey through the world. John said a silent prayer for having had the blessing to know him, if only for a moment. Likewise, he felt lucky for the all too brief wisdom that made him appreciate that knowing.

J.L.’s bad hip had stiffened a bit. He stood with a groan and hobbled with the dishes over to the sink. He almost fell towards the counter, as if those few steps were a terrific distance to overcome.

“All right there, J.L.?”
“Bum hip acting up again. Time to time. Don’t get old, friend. The body starts failing about the time you start realizing what a damn fool you were when you were young!” He forced a pained laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said John.

He stood and rubbed his belly. John looked off through the window, in the direction of Emmetsburg, still a good hour or so away. Sunlight still held the yard, in stark contrast to the ever darkening clouds besieging it. A flock of black birds raced through the yard for shelter. They tumbled through the open door, losing themselves to the shadows, appearing as chunks of black coal thrown there.

At that moment John came to a quiet decision. Or maybe it had come to him. He came to this thought concerning his fate, and that was he’d just be running from one fate into the arms(or teeth) of another. As for this one, and any other fate he might have wished for, there was always Anna. Furthermore, could he rightly dismiss Louis’s predictions as coincidence, or was it rather his own flawed understanding of just what Louis had said? Maybe it was John who was crazy or delusional?. Perhaps he was dreaming or that all this was some quirk of conscience.