Free The Last Exit to Normal by Michael Harmon Page B

We
were
going to be married, you know.”
    He nodded. “Just do me a favor and make sure you’re ready. It’s an important
thing, not just a feel-good thing.”
    “This coming from a guy who fooled around with his buddy in the woodshed.”
    He sighed. “Everybody makes mistakes, and everybody has regrets. Just keep it in mind that
women aren’t the only ones who can lose their self-respect.”
    “Will do.”
    “You should talk about things like this with your father.”
    I shook my head. “Tell that to him. Every time I do, he wants to turn it into some kind of lesson
on life.” I looked at him. “Sort of like you’re doing now.”
    “I’m not your father, and because I’m not, I can say whatever I want. And
don’t go around thinking that I actually care about you or anything, because you’re nothing more than a
nuisance to me.”
    “Blah blah blah.” I looked around. “Am I going country, or are you going to
keep preaching?”
    An hour later, I walked out of the Saddleman wearing tan ropers, which are lace-up cowboy-type work
boots (you can’t work in regular cowboy boots, apparently), a pair of straight-leg Wranglers that made me feel
like my nuts were wrapped in duct tape, and a neutral-colored button-up work shirt that gathered the heat like a
blowtorch in my waistband. Three pairs of regular Levi’s, leather work gloves, and three shirts bulged in the
Saddleman bag I carried.
    At my insistence, I had also picked out a cowboy hat. Edward smirked disgustedly every time he looked
at it. I felt like I should be trick-or-treating, but I also thought it was sort of cool. Like a uniform or something. Maybe
Edward was right. Maybe I was conforming. He told me I was conforming to lust.
    When we got home, Dad was sitting on the front porch with a file in his lap. We’d made one
other stop along the way, and Edward had loaned me some money. I’d purchased something for Billy, but left it
in the van for now. I’d give it to him later. Dad looked at me when I got out of the car and gaped.
“What happened to my son? Edward? Is he sick?”
    Edward smiled. “Love is in the air.”
    Dad leaned back. “Oh. Enough said. You look nice, son.”
    Miss Mae banged out the door, a scowl on her face and her hands on her hips, ready to breathe fire about
something or other. Flinty eyes riveted on me, and she closed her mouth. Then she walked down the stairs and looked
me up and down like I was a cow at auction. She nodded, brought her hands to my collar, straightened it, pressed the
lapels down, and patted them with gnarled hands. “Very handsome.” Then she turned around and walked
up the stairs, muttering about me possibly turning out human.
    As she reached the screen door, she turned around. “You get your chores done or I’ll
make you wish you had a suit of armor on instead of those new duds, boy. I ain’t foolin’ around, either.
I’ll switch those stitches into your skin if you make me say it again.”

CHAPTER 9
    I n regular–person speak, what Miss Mae meant was that I had to get
my chores done before I went on my work date or I’d be bludgeoned with a giant-size wooden spoon. I went
inside, stuffed the rest of my new clothes in my dresser, and walked out back.
    When Miss Mae wrote on my chore list that I needed to paint the fence, I didn’t realize I had to
fix
it before I did. Twenty feet of it lay on the ground. I found a hammer and a can of nails in the woodshed,
grabbed the shovel, looked around for the wheelbarrow, and remembered that Billy had borrowed it.
    As I walked across the lawn, I heard the familiar banging of bricks being dropped into the metal tub of
the wheelbarrow. I shook my head on my way over, thinking about Billy getting strapped because I’d helped
him.
    I knew it before I saw it, and as I came around the corner, I saw Billy loading bricks. Mr. Hinks’s
car was gone. My stomach crawled. “Hey, Billy.”
    He looked up, didn’t say anything, then bent