“What you gonna do? Jump in?”
“I’m tempted.” Will was still looking at Tate’s eyes when he stood up. He turned and leaned over the railing. “Caitlin!”
“Oh, hell,” the woman said.
“What are you doing?!”
“Having fun.”
“Who’s that with you?”
“None of your damn business.”
Tate leaned back in his chair and chuckled. Patrons were looking at Will and leaning over the railing. Tate said, “Calm down, Will. You’re the one who wouldn’t talk to her. Remember?”
“Shut up,” Will told Tate. He threw his cigarette at the canoe. The red glow sailed with the breeze and went dark on the water. “Caitlin, you get out of that boat and get up here.”
“Kiss my ass,” she said.
Will pounded the railing. “I’m serious.”
“I’m serious,” Caitlin mocked him. “You’re always serious.”
“Sit down, Will,” Tate said.
“Shut up!”
“Listen, you shit-brained cowboy,” Caitlin said. “I called you today, but you weren’t man enough to talk to me.”
“Get out of the boat and we’ll talk now.”
The man in the canoe tried to paddle them away, but Caitlin stuck her paddle in the water and caused them to circle. She was still looking up at the deck.
Will began to unbutton his shirt. “I swear to God, if you don’t move that thing to the bank, I’m gonna jump in.”
“Will,” Tate said.
“What is it?” Will turned to find Becky behind him. He couldn’t talk and his face seemed in search of an expression.
Becky said, “You want me to let you explain.”
“Yes.”
She took his mug from the table and poured the beer over his head. She stomped away amid the applause of tavern patrons.
Tate shook his head.
“Who was that?!” Caitlin shouted. She was standing in the canoe. The man was trying to steady the boat while asking her to sit.
“Who was that?!” she asked again.
Will wiped beer from his face with his shirttail. “None of your goddamn business.”
“Who was that bitch?!”
“Now, now,” Will said. “Why don’t you sit down before you get all wet.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like that?”
Tate got up and started away.
“Where are you goin’?” Will asked.
Tate said nothing, just waved him off.
Will studied Tate’s back and seemed to find something. He leaned over the railing, again. “Caitlin,” he said in a calmer voice.
“What?”
“Sit down for a second. Please.”
She sat.
“I’m only going to say this once.” He paused. “Okay.” He rubbed a hand over his wet hair. “Will you marry me?” The boat drifted into a shadow and he could not see her face clearly. “Caitlin?”
“Hell, no,” she said, softly. “Hell, no.” Louder.
About the Author
Percival Everett teaches at the University of Kentucky and lives with his wife, Shere, who is an artist, in Lexington. He is the author of three novels, Suder, Walk Me to the Distance and Cutting Lisa.