Anna gave Clinch a loveless smile. “Thank you so much, sweetheart, for always thinking about my safety.”
He reciprocated with an even icier smile, kicked his mount, and was off. Within moments, the rest of the group was gone, and Anna remained alone save for ugly, rat-faced Lewis, a mangy dog, a tired gray horse, and the corpse of an innocent old man who had done nothing to deserve his fate.
Lewis glanced at the map and turned his horse east. “C’mon, Anna, let’s go.”
She began to follow him, then suddenly halted. She called out to the dog. “Plugger! Plugger, c’mon, boy!”
The dog looked up, seemingly unsure.
“C’mon, Plugger! C’mon!”
At last, thanks to the canine gift of short-term memory, Plugger came bounding after her.
They headed for Old Stump.
The days and nights rolled by, each one dissolving into the next, a chronological blur. Albert never left the house save to tend his sheep, and the tiny home’s supplies and stores were beginning to run low. His mother and father clucked and barked at him to make a trip into town for replenishments, but he barely heard them. Their voices seemed to be echoing down from the rim of a deep well at the bottom of which he huddled. The rational part of his brain knew that the constant cutting pain of a breakup was only a temporary thing, that it would get a little bit easier each day, each week, each month, until one day he’d wake up and find himself utterly baffled that he had ever let this bygone woman cripple him so completely.
But that part of his brain wasn’t in charge at the moment. For now he was a creature of emotion, and the suffering distorted his thinking. He lay on his bed staring up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. I can’t live without her. No one has ever loved anyone as much as I love her. And there’s no one else who will ever make me as happy as she does.
The early-afternoon sun was now lashing him across the face as it sliced through the edge of the burlap covering that hung from his window. Albert groaned in protest and turned over on his side, but he knew sleep would continue to elude him. He hadn’t slept all night, and he was exhausted, but his body refused to submit to unconsciousness.
He rose sluggishly and padded into the main room. His pajamas stank from days of wear, but changing clothes had become a weekly activity, not a daily one. His mother and father sat in their usual spots, engaged in their usual activities: Elsie sewing, George reading the Bible.
“Well, look who’s up at two in the afternoon,” George said.
Albert stopped and stared down at him. “You ever think about reading another book, Dad? I mean, at this point, don’t you pretty much know how that one ends?”
“I find new meaning in this book every day,” he snapped back. “Eat something. There’s still some sweet cream and pig ass on the table if you want it.”
Albert glared at the unappetizing spread. “No, thanks.”
“Well, you want something else? Make a run into town. This is all we got left.”
Albert ignored his father and shuffled toward the front door to make an outhouse trip. When he opened the squeaky, whining door, he was startled to find Edward, mid-knock. He almost rapped Albert in the nose.
“Oh, sorry, Al.”
“Edward. Hey.” Albert blinked like a mole in the bright sunlight.
“My God, you look terrible.” Edward frowned.
“Ahhh, there’s that confidence boost I need. How you doin’, buddy?”
“Can I come in?” asked Edward.
“Sure, sure,” Albert answered with a dead expression. “I know my parents are gonna be totally thrilled to see you. Guys, Edward’s here!”
George and Elsie nodded wordlessly.
“Look at them.” Albert smiled without amusement. “They just love company. We all do. You want some pig ass?”
Edward shifted uncomfortably and stepped inside. “Albert, I’m really worried about you. I haven’t seen you in town for a week and a half. All you do is stay home and sleep.”
“Well, I went out last Tuesday to pay off Charlie Blanche so he wouldn’t shoot me in the face.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Look, Edward, I feel like I need to be here with my parents,” Albert said, his voice dripping with the thick syrup of sarcasm. “They’re not gonna be around much longer, and I wanna give back all that love and affection I got growing up. Right, Dad?”
George broke wind.
“Look,” said Edward, trying to get the conversation back on track, “I know you’re taking this breakup hard, and I understand… but I think you’ve got to get out of your funk. I mean, Jesus, you haven’t even shorn your sheep in weeks.”
“I have too,” Albert shot back petulantly.
“Albert, there’s a sheep out there that looks like a giant ball of cotton with legs. You can’t even see its head—there’s only a nose sticking out. I just saw it walk into a wall. C’mon, why don’t you come into town with me, huh? We’ll get a late lunch.”
“Well, y’know, thank you for your concern, Edward, but if I leave the house and go into town, I might see her, and then I’m gonna get even more depressed.”
“Well, of course you’re gonna see her, she’s in town all the time,” Edward said.
Albert’s head snapped upward, and he suddenly looked alert for the first time in weeks. He began to speak much more rapidly. “Why, did you see her? How is she? Is she sad? Did she look sad? Has she lost a lot of weight? Did she gain weight? Is she fat now? That would help.”
“Yeah, I saw her; she seems fine,” Edward answered patiently. “Which is all the more reason for you to get back out there! Show her you’re fine too! I mean, things could be worse—”
“I’m not fine,” Albert interrupted. “And I don’t mean to sound like a jerk, but you don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? You have no idea what it’s like. You’re going home every night and having sex with your girlfriend.”
“No, Ruth and I haven’t had sex,” Edward said matter-of-factly.
Albert stared at him for a beat, uncertain whether he’d heard correctly. “You… you’ve never had sex with Ruth?”
“No.”
“You’ve been seeing each other for a long time, though.”
“Six years. Yikes. Wow. Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Doesn’t she… have sex with like ten guys every day at the whorehouse?”
“On a slow day, yeah.”
Albert paused again. “But… you guys have never had sex.”
“No.” Edward shook his head. “Ruth says not until we’re married. She’s a Christian, and so am I, and we want to save ourselves for each other. Y’know, for our wedding night.”
Albert allowed himself to process this information. And then he patted his friend on the shoulder. “You’re right, Edward. Things could be a lot worse. I’ll try to meet some people.”
Albert stared at the jar of licorice. He remembered coming into the Old Stump General Store as a young boy and gazing with desire at the small but intoxicating array of three or four varieties of confections displayed on the countertop. He would ask his father for a peppermint stick or a piece of chocolate, desperately appealing to a paternally generous nature that never revealed itself. Instead, his father would say, “If you do ten hours’ worth of extra chores each week for the next month, I’ll buy you a peppermint stick.” Albert would nod vigorously and throw himself into the task for four or five days, at which point he would inevitably decide he was getting played for a jackass. No single piece of candy was worth that much effort. So he’d give up on the whole exercise and resign himself to longing gazes. His only salvation came once a year or so, when Mr. Crawford, the now-deceased owner of the store, would take pity and offer Albert a licorice stick. The taste was euphorically sweet, but it almost made the whole ordeal worse, because it showed him what he was missing.