[Peace-discuss] RE: Give me some money, please

[Claudine Dailey]

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Best Wishes,
Claudine Dailey

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Don't you see? Don't you get it? he said. Frannie's closing the mill. Says it's uneconomical. But he don't know squat. He never even comes down there any more. So me and a few of the boys, we reckon we can take it off his hands. Gonna call it Copperhead Timber after those big old trout you see down in the river.Come on, Jim, I said. You're drunk.And I'm sure you're right. Cath, what's your poison? Bourbon all right for you or are you a little lady like Marion?As we swung off the freeway, the thick cloud robbed me of the last bit of watery sun to drive by and I had the headlights on for the last hour. The county road down to their place was slippery with hard-packed snow; we almost went into the ditch a couple of times. By the time we pulled in next to Jim's battered pickup I was hunched over the steering wheel and my shoulders felt like they'd been jacked up under my ears.As we swung off the freeway, the thick cloud robbed me of the last bit of watery sun to drive by and I had the headlights on for the last hour. The county road down to their place was slippery with hard-packed snow; we almost went into the ditch a couple of times. By the time we pulled in next to Jim's battered pickup I was hunched over the steering wheel and my shoulders felt like they'd been jacked up under my ears.A drink! said Jim, clapping his hands - a loud pop that made Marion jump. What an excellent idea. A drink. Now why didn't I think of that? He swung open a door next to the fridge; the cupboard was stacked with bottles of store-brand bourbon.At least because you went to work for Frannie, you and I met. That was one good thing wasn't it, Jim? She looked at him and I could see all she wanted was for him to smile or nod or even just grunt his approval. He just looked at her.But he didn't come back. He called Frannie Petersen, the third member of our old gang from high school, and charmed a job out of him, working in his lumber business out in Illinois. A few weeks later, Jim called me and said he was leaving the next day and did I want to see him off.Hey, little miss trust-fund. I don't care what you think. This is my house and she's my wife. And if you don't like it here then you can get the fuck out.She looked down, pulling at a loose thread on the hem of her cardigan. I just thought they might like a drink, Jim.*You know why, I said. I can't do it. How can I give you a job when I just sacked one of the guys for having a beer on his break?After getting another pink slip, at the tail end of the eighties, he asked me for a job. He sat in my office putting together a case why he should come and work for the 'family firm' as he put it. I looked at his hands while he talked. They were trembling. But he wasn't nervous, at any rate, not because he was asking his kid brother for a job. It was ten thirty in the morning and he needed a drink. I could smell his sweetish breath from across the desk.You don't know the half of it. Seems I've been working there forever and all I got to show for it is a dried-up wife who's never going to make me a father.Jesus! Don't you ever let up? Cath said. Don't talk to your wife that way. If anyone's made a sacrifice round here, it's Marion.