Free Benediction by Kent Haruf Page A

her?
    I went.
    Well. Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me, Rudy. This ain’t some kind of mystery,
     is it?
    No, but it’s a bad mess, Dad. He stared across the room for a moment. I figure I can
     go over to her house and get it back if that’s what you want.
    You mean repossess it.
    Yes sir. Repossess it.
    How come?
    You ever been in her house?
    About thirty years ago.
    Well, I doubt she’s thrown anything away since then. Dad, it’s just an all-out bad
     situation. She sits in her rocking chair or walks up and down in that mess and confusion
     all day long. She’s left herself little narrow trails to walk in. And she’s put that
     freezer out on the back porch loaded up with things. It ain’t even food that she’s
     got inside. She’s put her old leftover bank papers and family letters and old yellowed
     newspapers in it. And she’s got it plugged in and turned on, keeping it running, keeping
     the papers cold. She showed me. She insisted on it. I didn’t want to look at it. I
     didn’t know what I’d see. Why hell. It just kind of made me feel sick to myself to
     see all those papers iced up like that. You want me to take her freezer back?
    You think she’s lost her mind now? Is that it? Gone over the hill?
    I guess that’s what it is. Or just pure old age.
    You don’t think she’s going to pay.
    I don’t think she can pay. It don’t look likely to me, Dad.
    Well. We don’t want it back. We don’t ever want to have to take anything back.
    She’s just all alone over there, is mostly what it is.
    Nobody to take care of her? Nobody to talk to?
    No sir. Not that I know of.
    Well. We can’t take back her freezer. It’s like she had some idea but whatever it
     was she forgot it. Let her go. It’ll be laid onto bad debts, that’s all.
    Yes. That’s the best way.
    What else? Anything happening around town or out in the country?
    You heard they started cutting wheat, Bob said.
    They should. It’s almost the start of July.
    You heard about that custom combiner from Texas.
    I don’t know. I guess. You mean that fellow that claims when you cross into Oklahoma
     it makes you want to steal?
    You heard his story about old Floyd.
    I don’t guess I heard that.
    Well, as he says, last year they come into this little town down in Oklahoma just
     before the Fourth of July and the hands, they all wanted a day off. He said he didn’t
     trust them but they’d been working pretty hard and deserved some vacation. All of
     them was pretty much a bunch of alkies, he said. Anyway so they was down there in
     this little place and he let them go for the one day like they asked. Then the next
     day when they come back one of the men isn’t with them. What happened to Floyd? he
     says.
    Well, one of them says, he’s sort of scratching his foot in the dirt, I guess we lost
     old Floyd.
    What do you mean you lost old Floyd?
    Well. We went out fishing in a boat on this lake and I guess we had a little bit to
     drink and then old Floyd, he falls in. He never rises back up.
    Goddamn. Didn’t you look for him?
    Yeah. We looked for him. But we couldn’t find him.
    So finally this Texas guy telling the story he says he had to call Floyd’s mama to
     tell her they’d lost old Floyd. His mama tells him, Well, just give his things to
     the hands.
    Dad shook his head, grinning. Hell of a deal. I guess it’s funny, in a sort of way.
     He stared for a moment at the two men sitting on the couch. They say drowning is the
     way to go, isn’t that right? But how anybody would know that I don’t know.
    That’s right, Bob said. How would they know?
    But you boys now, you could take me over to Bonny Dam and tip me in, couldn’t you.
    Hell now, Dad, Rudy said. That ain’t no way to talk.
    It ain’t no way to talk maybe, but it would settle things. It wouldn’t be a lot of
     trouble for you.
    They looked down at their coffee cups. It ain’t that it would be any trouble, Rudy
     said. That ain’t at all the point, Dad.
    All