Curtis, part thirty-two

It was Friday evening, and Leta wanted a beer. After a long, tumultuous week, the day had proceeded smoothly. The children were on their best behavior and completed their chores without incessant prompting. Their supper of chicken and dumplings followed by pie had been a success. The day itself had been neither too warm nor too cool. She had finally, after a week of diligent activity, cleaned and organized the kitchen to her liking. Even her husband Curtis seemed relaxed. This had been a feat since they had not spoken to each other since the previous morning when she caught him going through her personal belongings in a search for five dollars to repay the milkman for some debt he never explained to her. He was furious that she would not give him the five dollars nor tell him where she kept her own hard-earned money, cash she brought into their new marriage.

However, his mood changed quickly that afternoon when he learned that the price of eggs rose one penny per dozen. The chickens had been laying well, so it was a welcome sales increase. Not only that, but he had secured better employment for his oldest son. The new job featured higher pay that would provide needed income to expand the number of chickens on the farm. Curtis had just finished building a large shed for them. As his farm mostly consisted of laying hens, this new shed would house chickens for slaughter, and he was eagerly waiting for the eggs he was incubating to hatch.

Curtis was sitting with his oldest two boys on the back stoop as the sun set, a flaming ball of red amidst a smattering of pink and purple stratus clouds. Leta walked onto the stoop, wiping her hands on her apron.

“That’s beautiful,” she said, referring to the sunset.

‘Mmm hmm,” Curtis agreed.

He didn’t open his mouth, but she knew he had barely said a word for the last twenty minutes. That he acknowledged her positively gave her opportunity to continue to speak.

“Red sun means it’s going to be a good day tomorrow,” she continued.

“Yes, ma’am,” the oldest boy said.

“And the air is just as sweet as any evening could be,” she said.

They all took deep breaths at her suggestion.

“Yep,” Curtis agreed.

“It sure would be nice to have a nice cold beer on an evening like this, wouldn’t it, Curtis?” she continued in the same vein.

Leta had been craving a drink for several days, and greatly regretted that she did not buy at least a fifth of bourbon to bring home on their wedding night. Although her aggressive drinking days were past her, she still enjoyed imbibing on a cocktail or beer with or after her evening meal. Unless he had a hidden stash, Curtis had not had a drink for several days either, and as they regularly had cocktails while they were becoming acquainted—and she knew he enjoyed beer—he must be just as parched as she was.

“I can almost taste it,” she added, smacking her lips.

To be continued.