“Did
you know we was upriver this far? I mean, did you realize we was
at your old house?”
Gator didn’t say anything. He cracked open another can of
beer and watched the fishing poles.
“Do you miss them, Gator?”
He chugged the beer halfway down, then topped off the can with
whiskey. “Pain killer, double-dose.”
“I miss them, Gator. I miss them real bad sometimes.”
Her eyelashes moistened with tears as she stared at the house.
“I know Shelby was your wife, and little Gator Jr. belonged
to y’all, but she was my sister. I loved them, too, Gator.”
The wind blew a slender green cattail down until it bonked Gator’s
head with its soft brown wiener. He slapped it away.
“I miss hearing her sing in church, and---”
“Damn, woman! Can’t you shut up already?” He
chugged the whiskey/beer combo, crinkled the can and tossed it
next to the other empties.
Lindy Beth wiped tears away and turned her back on him. She cried
silently for a minute and a half, then blew her nose on a corner
of the army blanket. It never took her long to recover. But she
was damn sure good at holding grudges, the kind that always showed
up in the bedroom, when you least expected it.
“Gator, what do you think we should name our baby?”
“It don’t matter,” Gator said over the long
grass stem he chewed on. He crossed his ankles and stretched out
on the blanket.
“Now don’t be like that. Sure it matters. Baby’s
gonna need a good name. If it’s a boy, I’m gonna call
him Crockett, after his daddy. We’ll call him Crock for
short, kinda like crocodile. And if it’s a girl, I’m
gonna name her Ali, short for alligator. Whadda ya think of that?”
“Stop talkin’ nonsense. That’s the stupidest
shit ever to come out of your mouth.”
Lindy Beth stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Well,
what would you name the baby?” she said hotly.
“That’s easy,” said Gator, looking up at her.
“If it’s a boy, we’ll call him Motor. Just like
an outboard motor, which is what I’m gonna buy when I get
tired of rowing someday. And if it be a girl, we’ll call
her Cat, short for catfish. Now shut up and get me another beer.”
“Oh, Gator! I love those names. You’re so clever.
When you gonna marry me and make me a kept woman? It ain’t
right for little Motor or little Cat to be born out of wedlock.”
“Why not? I figure Bastard is a right nice name for a baby.”
Gator slapped his knee and guffawed at his own joke.
Lindy Beth stuck out her lower lip. “No it isn’t.
That’s a horrible name. If you don’t stop being so
mean, I’m gonna name the baby Shit Head, so’s everyone
will know it’s named after its daddy.”
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