c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(2-26)
The hillside above Bodean Pringle’s garage presented a challenge of sorts for his cousin, who remained huddled in the repair shed for several days. Heavy snowfall in that part of West Virginia had turned the slope into a skiing venue of sorts. But after drinking all of his whiskey reserve, and finishing work on the Harley-Davidson chopper, Parker was ready to seek human interaction once more. Perhaps if nothing else, for a ride to some convenience outlet where he could purchase more liquor and smokes. His mood without the comfort of those vices was never friendly. So, before pangs of withdrawal set in, he decided to make the short trek to his familial abode, on foot.
With layers of clothing, boots, gloves, and a Carhartt beanie for protection, he scaled the incline, using trees, and a fireplace poker to facilitate this climb. When his footing became too slick, he fell backwards, cursing and coughing. Then, redoubled efforts to reach the intended target of his mission. He could see a yellow glow of illumination through the back windows. And hear grandkids laughing and running through the house. Everything outside was frozen. Even an old pump fixture by the porch had a frozen drip hanging from its spout. A bird feeder left exposed was covered in ice. Nothing about the environment seemed friendly or appealing.
The wandering loner slipped, sputtered, and staggered forward through this landscape, for over a half-hour. Eventually, his bones ached and he was sore and surly. But with determination fueling his walk, he reached the homemade steps behind his cousin’s shack. There, he hammered on the plywood wall. Gasps of surprise sounded from inside. And then, the rear entrance blew open.
Angelette shrieked from the kitchen hallway.
“Y’all gotta be nuts, stayin’ down there, Feesh! Why didn’t ya take the spare bedroom with us, up here? It’d be a whole lot more comfy than that rollaway from the Salvation Army! That thing ain’t been used since my grandpappy died! He stayed with us before we moved here to Grafton.”
Parker shook off melting snow like a frosty canine. He was red-faced and out of breath.
“I do better by myself, to be honest. But thanks for the reminder about your invitation. Truth is, I was hoping to catch a ride into the commercial district. I’m in need of some supplies for my hideout...”
His cousin’s wife smiled sweetly. Then, tilted her head sideways, while thinking.
“Weren’t ya stayin’ with that lady from the travel plaza? I kinda figured maybe it was good fer both of ya, a hookup that’d mend yer broken hearts!”
Her combative, relation-by-marriage shrugged and lowered his head.
“Yeah, well, I pissed off some friends at the Nazarene church. Something clicked in my head during the Sunday service. I had to stand and make a testimony of faith. But my act embarrassed her badly...”
Angelette went wide-eyed and gestured with disbelief.
“Y’ALL WENT TO CHURCH, BOY? I BEEN TRYIN’ TO GET BODEAN SCRUBBED UP AND CLEAN ENOUGH FER WORSHIP WITH ME’N THE GRANDKIDS. BUT HE JUST WON’T GO! NOW, IF THE BOTH OF YA ATTENDED TOGETHER, THAT’D BE WONDERFUL! A MIRACLE SENT BY JESUS HIMSELF!”
The motorcycle hermit frowned and averted his gaze.
“I burned that bridge for good. Sorry about spoiling your opportunity...”
From the other room, he heard his cousin exclaim with a string of four-letter words.
“DAMN, DAMN, DAMN, YA WENT TO CHURCH, FEESH? REALLY? I DON’T BELIEVE IT!”
Parker unzipped his leather jacket, and sat on a chair at the dinner table. Melted snow trailed from his chaps, on the linoleum floor.
“I’ve been having strange dreams lately. And drunk visions, but not the kind I enjoy. I thought that maybe a visit to the church would clear things in my head. You know, solve the riddle so to speak. But it just stirred up muddy water. It caused me to remember why I separated from that way of life in the first place...”
Angelette adjusted her wire-rimmed spectacles. Then smoothed her striped apron.
“If y’all wanted to have a look ‘round local churches, I coulda helped, Feesh. The ones right here in town are too regular for yer tastes, I’d reckon. I know how ya think. And all those tattoos and long hair don’t sit well with mainstream folks. But there’s a little congregation up the road a piece. It’s outside of Philippi, in Barbour County. I’ve got kin out that way. Those people wear NASCAR duds and T-shirts, while servin’ at the Lord’s Table on Sunday. They come in pickup trucks and old Chevy Suburbans or Jeeps, runnin’ on big tires. Some even drive their 18-wheelers and park across the road. They had a pastor who was still in his pulpit at over 80 years old! It’s a shame that he finally went to glory land. Anyway though, y’all can sit with people who look like yerself, and sound the same, too. They don’t judge others. They don’t get their noses in the air about blue jeans, or black boots, red bandanas. or anything. It’s a in a community center started by coal miners. That’s where y’all would feel welcome. That’s a church where ya would feel at home, I reckon!”
Her contrarian relative folded his hands and leaned over the table edge.
“I had another one of those visitations last night. After emptying my last bottle of Kentucky hooch! My father appeared, and he read a Bible scripture. The one about Jonah, and his refusal to obey a commandment from God. His voice rang out clearly, just like when I was a youngster, listening to sermons with my mama and siblings. I never expected anything of that kind, when getting to the bottom of a whiskey bottle! But there it was. When I woke up this morning, the concrete floor had turned deathly cold. The propane heater ran out of fuel. And I was out of smokes and drink. Not even any of that horrible, instant coffee left. That’s why I decided to climb the hillside. I figured that maybe, you’d show me some favor. A bit of mercy in this blustery season...”
Bodean shouted from the living room. He laughed and hooted while offering a bargain.
“I THINK YER LOOKIN’ FER SOMETHIN’ MORE THAN THAT, FEESH! IT AIN’T MERCY FROM ME OR THE MISSUS Y’ALL NEED. IT’S THE KIND YA GET FROM A HIGHER POWER! OR THE KIND YA GET FROM LOOKIN’ IN THE MIRROR, AND COMIN’ TO TERMS WITH YERSELF! THAT WOULD BE MY SUGGESTION! THERE YA HAVE IT!”
No comments:
Post a Comment