Free Sound Of Gravel, The by Ruth Wariner Page A

bed.
    The sun had gone down outside and storm clouds were gathering. The kitchen door scraped open and hard-soled workboot footsteps clomped on the floor on the other side of the wall. Lane said hello to Mom, I heard the light smack of a quick kiss, and then he popped his head into the living room. He wore the same red polo shirt he’d had on the last time I’d seen him, and his hair was wet and combed back behind his ears. His face was freshly shaved except for his sandy-blond sideburns, which looked hard. His mouth was closed and expressionless. I stopped my performance, and we all stared back at him for a moment.
    “So, what’s for dinner tonight?” he asked Mom.
    “I haven’t decided what to make yet. Where’s the showerhead?”
    Silence.
    “Did you buy it when you were in Casas?”
    “Well, yeah, I bought it,” Lane said, perfectly matter-of-fact, “but I decided to give it to Alejandra. She wanted one too.”
    Silence again, then Mom called for me to help get a bottle ready for the baby. Meri was four months old but had had trouble latching onto Mom’s breast, so we’d resorted to feeding her bottles of goat’s milk. I slapped the Bible shut over my lap as thunder roared through the dark, cloudy sky, shaking the whole house. We soon heard rain start to fall on the tar and gravel rooftop. Mom had Meri’s head over her shoulder while she bounced the baby lightly and patted her back. She glared at Lane, who now sat at the kitchen table silently, his arms folded and elbows resting on the table. I could feel the tension between them as I opened the refrigerator, unscrewed the gold lid of a mason jar, and poured the goat’s milk into a small saucepan on the stove.
    “I gave you money to buy me a showerhead—last Thursday. From my welfare check, that I saved so we could finally finish the bathroom.”
    I turned to look at Mom as I reached for the red box of matches. She was biting the corner of her lower lip, looking at Lane as if he were a child, like the mother in Jack and the Beanstalk after she discovers that her son traded the cow for beans.
    Lane sighed. “Hey, Alejandra needs a finished bathroom too,” he said calmly, as if the whole thing might blow over with just a shrug of his shoulders. “Get me a glass of water, would ya?” he asked casually.
    I turned back to the stove and lit the burner. The smell of butane burst out with a soft hissing sound before blue flames erupted under the saucepan. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell that Mom hadn’t stopped looking at Lane. She hadn’t moved to get him a glass of water either. Her mouth was stern and she was patting Meri’s back faster and faster. Rainwater began to drip from an open hole in the wooden ceiling. She took an empty pan from the stovetop and placed it on the floor to catch the water from a hole that had been intended for the round metal chimney of a wood-fired stove, one that had never materialized.
    Matt burst through the kitchen door at that moment carrying a bucket of fresh milk, his hair and clothes soaked from the rain. He paused in the doorway, his eyes wide as if he already knew something was wrong.
    “Close that door, Matt!” Mom snapped, walking the baby into the bedroom and laying her down in the crib. “You’re lettin’ all the cold air in.” In an instant she was back and made a beeline for Lane. She pulled a chair out from under the table and sat across from him.
    “That money was my money,” Mom said seriously, her freckled forearms stretched flat on the table as if half reaching for him, her fingers interlaced. “I saved it so that we could finish my bathroom before the summer. You promised you’d have it done by now.”
    “Well, Alejandra needs a bathroom too,” Lane said, still calm. “She’s my first wife, and she has more kids than you. Do you think it’s fair for you to have your bathroom done first?”
    Mom leaned almost across the table, her eyes squinted in anger. “I gave you my money to