i am home, stupid

“The longer you look at me, the less beautiful I feel.”

“How do you like to feel?”

“Beautiful.”

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance.”

“It’s just your looking.”

“Suppose I’ll stop then.”

“Would be best.”

He drinks coffee from a cup. He hears, “Shhh,” but can see it too.

“You’re worse than the devil.”

He smiles.

“I try to be. You want breakfast.”

“I’ll eat anything to get you out of this room.”

Texas. God only knows. Bob Dole is popular.

“You like em’ over easy or?”

“You know I don’t.”

“What? Eggs?”

“Hold on.”

“I’m holding on as long as I can.”

“Well, just drop em’ then.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

She is his boss. Has been for 22 years.

“Are we in Jeff Davis County?”

“What you think?”

“Got sweat in my ass.”

“Sounds like Jeff Davis County in your ass.”

“Why are you so dirty?”

“'Cause I work for you.”

“I give you a holiday.”

“Still be dirty.”

Her eyes roll. She undresses and hops in the shower. He hears the water hiss.

“What about breakfast, honey-bumpkins?”

“What?”

“What about break…Oh, fuck it,” he whispers, and cracks open a cold one. “Taste better than she ever will.”

“What?”

“I said, I’m drinking!”

“This early?”

“Why don’t you join me after that shpopower of yours?”

He hears the door open. It’s behind him, and a shadow is cast.

“Mike Miller, you smell my eggs?”

He spits in the doorway. He spits inside.

“Well, why don’t you come in’n make yourself at home?”

“I am home, stupid.”

He stares off into the vent.

“I always forget what I am.”

Mike sits at the table between them.

“That’s why I come to remind you.”

“You smell like fishin’’ off the Pecos.”

“Your nose and my nose don’t lie.”

“Sound like a godamn Russkie.”

“Those must be pretty hard words to swallow.”

“You ever read any of the Russians?”

“I barely read the traffic signs.”

“Still like your eggs hard?”

“I just said, nothing's changed.”

He pushes what he’s got onto the second plate.

“There’s a story called The Nose, horrible. Gogol.”

“Who?”

He sighs. His arms feel like feathers.

“There’s a Russian short story, and it’s bad.”

“You cooked me eggs to tell me there's a bad Russian story?”

“I cooked you eggs to eat em’n not be so loud.”

“Who else is here, Jeff?”

“No one you know.”

“Ladies' night, last night?”

“You could say that.”

“Mustn't have been that great if ya got a beer cracked open.”

“Care to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

Jeff opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I think it’s your neck, or maybe it’s the woods?”

“Better make up your mind.”

“You timing me?” says Jeff.

Mike tosses the cooked tomatoes.

“Should be.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know.”

“You sure is eating hungry.”

“How I usually eat.”

“How's that?”

“Hungry.”

“Hm. This beer has filled my bladder. Be right back, Mike. Feel free to be as loud as you want.”

“Always will and always can do.”

Jeff walks into the bedroom, then into the bathroom. Lauren is pressed against the baby blue hex tile. She is not dressed.

“What you so stirred up about?”

“Take off that stupid hat,” she whispers.

“What’s that?” asks Mike.

“Just admiring my Stetson, Mr. Miller.”

“You look in the mirror often while you piss?”

“Only in your company.”

“You keeping any other company?”

“Just some girl.”

“Is she in my bed?”

“Your bed?”

“What?”

“This here is Lauren’s bed.”

“Ain’t that the truth? I ran into your wife this morning.”

“Did ya? She going to let me back in? You tell her how hot the dog house is?”

The sound of his fork hitting the plate. Almost finished.

“The opposite, my friend.”

Jeff walks back. Leaves the bathroom door open, and the bedroom door.

“Who’s in there?”

“What do you care, Lauren’s gone.”

“I envy your life.”

“Do you?”

He finishes and looks up.

“I do.”

“What about it? Besides the fact that strange women sleep on your bed?”

“Well, that hasn’t changed, except you're sleeping with em’. Use to be me.”

“That’s right.”

Jeff sits. Mike stands and washes his plate.

“Alright if I grab my deodorant?”

“Then you would be grabbing mine.”

“Is my deodorant no longer in my bathroom?”

Jeff’s face sits on his hand.

“Hasn’t been.”

“Well, where is it?”

“Took it with you, remember?”

“I don’t. Tis' why I’m asking.”

Jeff turns to Mike.

“Lauren backed for two. What are you doing here?”

“In my home?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I’m looking for Lauren.”

“And you came to the place she left?”

He smiles.

“Suppose so.”

“Tell me more about The Nose.”

“I’d rather not. Shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“What’s it about?”

“A nose, mostly.”

“What, like it’s just breathing and sniffing the whole time?”

“No, but it is kind of like that. I hate that story.”

“Why did you bring it up then?”

“Keep my mind from the sweat that drips down my ass.”

“This is Jeff Davis County, Jeff.”

“I know, Mike. Would you like another before she wakes up?”

He smiles.

“Is she a real booze hound?”

“You could say that, but no.”

“Peculiar.”

“You can say that again.”

“Peculiar.”

Jeff taps the wood with his fingers.

“Ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

His pockmarked face rotates with Mike’s movements. Mike walks out the door and says, “Let me know when she’s gone.”

“I’ll try to!”

He listens to the truck back out and disappear down the long desert.

One S for desert, he thinks, two for dessert.

“Lauren, you hear your husband?”

“I hear my boyfriend.”

He smirks.

“What do you think he knows?”

“Everything.”

“You can come out now.”

“I don’t like the way you look at me.”

“Baby, you perty.”

“Perty in the morn. Perty in the evening, but ugly as a hog around lunch cause you ain’t drunk enough.”

“I’m drinking.”

“I know, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s what I told your husband.”

“Shhhhh.”