c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-24)
Townshend Carr Lincoln was a man very much set in his ways. Someone who followed the same routine at his village of mobile homes, every day of the year. In winter months, he would sit outside drinking while bundled up in layers of cloth and leather. In summer conditions, he accelerated the pace of his libations accordingly, to stay cool. But in every case, he continued to get blitzed on beverage alcohol. Bourbon whiskey, beer, and spicy snacks kept him going. And numbed him enough to survive in a climate of desperation and social decline that permeated the rural community.
But with Ohio receiving a rare blast of temperatures above 100 degrees, suddenly, this regular habit became a burden he struggled to bear. While chugging cans of Yuengling lager, he grew dizzy on the outside porch of his singlewide trailer. His eyes refused to focus. The harsh glare of solar light streamed through his 1980’s, wraparound sunglasses.
He was lost in a fantasy of Heavy Metal tunes, streaming from his cell phone.
Finally, the pulsing pressure of blood pumping in his chest shook him to his core. He belched like a foghorn on the coast of Lake Erie. This rude noise rattled the glass of his storm door, and a small window above the kitchen sink. It could be heard up and down the street, above the din of diesel trucks and hunters who were busy in the woods.
“HRAGGGGGG! BRAPPPPPPPPPP! BORRRRCH!”
He desperately wanted to pee off the end of his redwood deck. But steadied himself with a cane, instead. He knew that such miscreant behavior might offend Maylene Jefka, their neighborhood matron. A gray-haired octogenarian who lived right across from his boxcar residence. Though he cared little about the sensibilities or opinions of anyone else nearby, the grand dame of Thompson held him in check. She was someone he loved and respected.
Stumbling inside for bathroom relief and another brew, he paused in front of an air conditioner that sat in a wall space behind his dinner table. The machine was dialed-in at 73 degrees. A temperature not terribly frosty, yet lower by enough from what he had experienced on his exposed, wooden bench to be welcome.
He crushed an empty container in his hand, and threw it into a double-sized bag hanging on a doorknob by the laundry room.
“Good thing I got more drinks! The damn refrigerator was almost empty!”
When he returned to the blast of seasonal warming outside, there was a pea-green, Honda Fit sedan at the end of his gravel driveway. He noted a familiar face through the windshield, someone he remembered living next door.
In only a moment, Darcy Trelane appeared at the end of his access ramp, with her orange hair standing on end. She wore the thick-framed spectacles that had earned her the tag of ‘Miss Poindexter’ from residents of their rural park. Her pajama attire boasted illustrations of Pokemon characters, and bug-eyed alien figures. The number of piercings in her ears, eyebrows, and nose had doubled since moving back to Cleveland. A sign that she had been reinvigorated by returning to friendly haunts in Cuyahoga County.
“Hey old mannn! How’ve you been, buddy? I came back here to give you a gift!”
Lincoln was puzzled by her cheerful mood. The young woman appeared to have gained a more breezy outlook on life, after her return to the shoreline of Lake Erie. And the comfort of like-minded students from a college environment.
“Gift? Damn, I hope it’s a bottle of whiskey!”
Miss Dex giggled and shook her head like a poodle.
“Nah, sorry bruh! Nothing quite that strong. But it’s something I found in a file folder with my notes from school. A newspaper article about me interviewing you for a class project, ten years ago. I don’t think you ever saw it the first time around. One of the kids I know framed the sheet and made it into a collage...”
The groggy hermit saw an image of himself surrounded by gold stars and purple glitter.
“What the fugg? Who would make art out of an old grunt like me?”
Darcy covered her eyes and whistled.
“Yeah, it’s crazy, right? But I thought you should have the article. I got an A on the project, that helped my grade score for the entire year! My professor thought you looked like a caveman that came out from under his rock! She laughed and laughed!”
Lincoln reddened slightly. Yet tried to project an air of gratitude.
“So, you came all the way out here just for that? A damn newspaper story?”
Dex bowed her head and began to whisper.
“Well, not exactly. My dad was pissed about selling our trailer. He had to move in with my uncle and his wife, it’s crowded in their apartment. He wants me to plunk down some cash on another... umm... home in this dump. Can you believe that? I think the idea is nuts. But I made an appointment with Dana Alvarez, the property manager. I’m meeting her in a few minutes. Actually, I just wanted to say hello. You were the only person I could stand in this shithole!”
The drunken hobo scratched his beard and belched again.
“I’ve dreamed about escaping this junkyard for years. Who would come back after they jumped the fence? Not me, that’s for sure. I think you should tell your papa to kiss off! You don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. As a matter of fact, nobody really wants to be here!”
The lesbian exile nodded to signify her agreement.
“Yeah, it’s true. But family matters, right? I can’t just dump my father. He’s almost your age! The guy has nowhere to go. I wouldn’t either, if it wasn’t for my homies at the college. It’s a tough choice, old fart! But not everybody can live on their own like you do!”
Lincoln brought a fist down on the railing by his bench.
“I LIKE BEING ALONE, DAMMIT! ALONE MEANS I CAN DRINK WHEN I WANT, DO WHAT I WANT, AND LIVE LIKE I WANT! ALONE MEANS I DON’T OWE ANYBODY A THING! SCREW ‘EM ALL! THEY CAN KISS MY FAT ASS!”
Darcy adjusted her glasses, which had begun to fog up in the heat. Her fingertips were sweaty.
“Okay, I gotta go, Link. That lady will be waiting at the office. I’ll let you know how it rolls for me. Peace, out, dude! Take it easy!”
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