Peter Andrews

After Luke Passes

The Rules

-     Outsiders are outsiders. That includes lawyers, social workers, and (especially) cops.

-     Sometimes you can trust kin. Sometimes you can't.

-     If you throw something out, you'll need it later.

-     If you leave your stuff lying around, it won't be there later.

-     First come, first served.

-     Carry your gun, but don't aim it at anyone. If you do aim it, shoot to kill.

-     Don't get caught.

Luke is three hours dead when that cocksucker Charlie texts me. Benny Dee is sure to have been there and gone, so Pop's service revolver, the TV, and any cash is gone. Lorraine’s gotta be at Luke’s by now. She’ll have the sex tapes, and she's welcome to them. She's not much to look at. Nothing of real value is left inside, except maybe the bass I caught and Luke claimed and mounted. I think most of the family is smart enough not to piss me off by taking it. 

But the trailer will be mine, 300 more square feet than what I have. And better for the kids, really, than this shitcan. 

Provided I get there before any of Mom's clan, who are off to Hickman Corners. Thank Jesus, they have longer drive than mine, even with a head start.  

I grab a garbage bag and toss stuff in. Tie the top. I slip my my Smith & Wesson M&P Shield 9mm into my vest. Grab Bobby's old shotgun. Once outside, I dump the bag and shotgun into the F150. 

By then, E.M. is awake, which is good. He's in his PJs, shoveling at a big bowl of cereal, and watching the Ninja Turtles.

I shut the TV off.

"Boy. Get dressed now."

He doesn't move so I grab the bowl from him and toss it into the sink. Then I yank him up standing. "We're headed for Uncle Luke's, so move."

He skitters off.

"And if you need to pee, do it now!"

Patty Girl steps out of her room, and he bumps right into her. She sweeps him out of the way, and he lands on his butt but bounces up right away.

Patty Girl has her suitcase. Two moves. She knows.

"Put that in the back of the truck. Eat now or wait till we get there."

She hustles out. 

I go out back and get the wood splitter. It isn't too old, and there won't be one at Luke's. I load it onto the flatbed. There's an iron bench from my Grandpa's out front I'd like to take, but I'll leave it. Need someone to help carry it. It'll go for scrap and good on whoever grabs it.  

E.M. is dawdling when I get back in. Pawing his Big Book of Fairy Stories. He drops it when I pick him up. When I swing him down to get it, he grabs Booger, a one-eyed, stuffed dog. So be it. Tucked under my arm, the boy is easy to carry.  

When I get back outside, Patty Girl is leaning on the truck, arms folded. Only eleven, but looking too much like Kate did.  

"I like it here, Papa." 

"Get in the car." She doesn't budge. "Or stay here alone if you want. Maybe the Maguires will feed you, but maybe not." 

Doors are slammed. E.M. sits over on Patty Girl. 

They take a last look, but good riddance to that tin can we lived in. 

My tires rattled up the gravel. Love that sound. Mrs. Kay sticks her head out the window. She'll be scavenging through my place within the hour. Half a bottle rum, but otherwise not much to take.  

"Who?" 

I look over to Patty Girl. She can be nice, but she has the mean eyes now. I don't answer. 

I turn out of the trailer park, onto the macadam road. Bit of a bump. Hear something rattle in the back.  

"Dammit, who?" 

If she'd yelled I'd have told her to fuck off. But she said it low.  

"Uncle Luke." 

E.M. nods. "Uncle Luke." 

"Huh," Patty Girl said. "I was hoping it was Meemaw." 

Amen to that.

***

Luke's house isn't in a trailer park. Just a half mile into the woods, off a dirt road. But he has a truckload of rip rap in front of his doublewide so the Travelall can't sink in the the mud come April.  

When we get there, Jesse and Bella are lugging Luke's barcalounger out of the trailer. A fat guy pushes past them and gets inside. I'm thinking he better be kin. 

I jump out of the truck as soon as it stops. But then I mosey toward Jesse and Bella, not wanting to look too upset. I nod as they approach me.

"Morning." 

Bella says, "Sorry for your loss." That pussy Jesse doesn't dare look at me. 

The Crosley chair on the porch is peeling and its cushion is shot to hell, but I set it near the stair. I take out my 9mm, and I sit down, facing the front.  

It takes a bit for Jesse to wrestle the chair into his trunk, and he has to move the deer head and a lamp to make it fit. As he works, a Camaro, polished like new, swings into the circle and slows down. Two cousins from Mama's side, no older than twenty, look me over.  

I let my fingers run over the barrel of my gun, and they keep going. Around the circle and out. 

The kids get out of the car. Bella meets them and gives their heads rubs. Then she and Jesse light off.  

Meanwhile, the fat guy returns.  He needs to angle himself to fit through the door. I recognize him as Joe, a cousin who used to hunt with me. He has a frozen turkey and a six pack of beer. Nothing else. 

He nods. "Devin." 

I keep my hand on the 9mm, but smile so he knows it's okay.  

"Damn sad," he says. "Luke was a good one." 

He puts the turkey down and offers me the six pack.  

I break off a can. Return the rest to him. "Thanks." 

He picks up the turkey. Goes off with it and the remaining beers. 

A dog, not a hunting dog, ambles up to E.M. Starts licking him. It feels like trouble. We don't need a dog like that.  

"Patty Girl. Let me see that dog." 

She stiffens. "I can take care of him, Papa." 

"Just do what I say, hear?" 

E.M. starts to giggle, but he makes himself useful. Helps Patty Girl corral the dog. I feel sad for him. 

"Come over with me, E.M." 

But he thinks it's a game. He'll learn. 

Finally, Patty Girl picks up the dog. Heads my way.  

I look. There's a good spot just up near the woods. Down wind. Shovel should still be around. 

Patty Girl stops, just out of my reach. "Dad..." 

"We don't need to be feeding no animal." 

"I don't need to eat so much." 

E.M. gets the message. "Me neither." 

But they are too skinny already, and Mr. Piper won't pay me more than ten an hour. 

Patty Girl likes that song, "Rock Candy Mountain." She even has me sing it instead of "Happy Birthday." 

So I start singing. Get up from the chair real easy. Put the gun down. 

Hold her attention long enough so I can grab the dog.  

I’m quick. Not even a yelp.

Peter Andrews has been a speechwriter, a radio producer, an innovation consultant, and a chemist. His TV script, Inflection Points, earned him an inaugural Blue Sky Fellowship in 2022. He has had eight short plays produced, dozens of short stories published, and hundreds of articles. He has attended Clarion and Bread Loaf and Stowe Stowe Labs.