Free A Feast of Snakes by Harry Crews Page A

Berenice.
    Joe Lon felt his face get hot. “Okay,” he said. “She’s okay.” He was remembering the pale weak way her thin face looked in the light that morning and the blue smear of a bruise running up from her mouth.
    “And the kids? What is it now? Two boys?”
    “Yeah, two,” said Joe Lon.
    “Both of them running backs. I’ll wager,” said Shep. He leaned forward and actually punched Joe Lon in the shoulder. “Must be great,” he said, “just great.”
    Joe Lon took a step back. He was afraid he was going to snap and coldcock both of them right there. He didn’t know what he had been expecting or hoping for from Berenice but it sure as hell was not this.
    “Look,” he said, “I gotta go.”
    “Aw,” said Berenice, “really? I was hoping you could come over to the house and have a cup of coffee with us.”
    “Sure, man,” said Shep, “I’d like to …”—here a little deep-throated radio announcer chuckle—“… talk some football with you.” Now a sudden seriousness about the beautiful girl’s eyes. “What do you think about Broadway Joe, anyway?”
    “I’d like to talk, but,” Joe Lon said, waving his hand to include the campground, the people milling about, the booths where the crafts were being shown, “there’s a lot of things I have to take care of.”
    “But we will get together?” said Berenice, taking his arm and squeezing it.
    Joe Lon gritted his teeth. “Yeah, we’ll get together.”
    He was turning to go when Shep caught his hand again and pumped it. “It certainly was a pleasure,” he said.
    Joe Lon mumbled something and walked away between the rows of campers. He walked looking at the ground, feeling that he had somehow just been humiliated. By the time he got to the trailer his jaws were aching from his clamped teeth. Elfie was up and in the kitchen. She was wearing a pretty yellow apron upon which she had embroidered little flowers.
    He remembered her working on it when she was pregnant with the second baby. It had ruffles across the top and tended to disguise her ballooning lower belly, for which he was thankful. She had her hair pulled back and tied with a ribbon. And even with the bruise that face powder had not quite been able to cover she looked very cheerful, even happy. He was glad for that because he had not welcomed the thought of facing her after last night.
    “You ready for you some breakfast, Joe Lon, honey?” she asked from where she stood doing something at the sink.
    “Just coffee,” he said.
    “Joe Lon, you got to eat, honey.”
    “Come on, Elf,” he said, “I got a little bit of a headache.”
    “Really?” she said. “You want some aspern?” She hadn’t moved from the sink. “I got me some aspern yesterday at the store if you want some.”
    He held on to the edge of the table and would not let himself say anything. She had already straightened up the trailer and washed and fed the babies. They were both in a playpen by the door in the living room where the sun came through the window. She had done all that and now she was only trying to help him and he knew that and knew also that she could not help it if everything she said drove him wild, nor could she help what had just happened out there to him at the campground. So he just sat at the little white Formica table, holding on to the edge of his chair, and looking out the window. She was watching him and he could feel the weight of her gaze.
    “I’ll git the coffee, Joe Lon, honey,” she finally said.
    He nodded but did not answer. His thoughts had already turned back to Berenice and the postcard and the Crisco Kid she had brought home with her. The Crisco Kid, yeah, that’s what he was. Second-string lardass on the debate team. Well, Mr. Crisco Kid, it may be you go one on one with Joe Lon Mackey before you get out of Mystic, Georgia. It may be you just-got yourself in more shit than you can stir with a stick.
    “Honey, here’s some fresh hot.”
    She set the coffee on the