“Don’t know what this county is
comin’ to!” Dodge tossed his third beer
can at the No Hunting sign. “Used to,
you could go wherever you wanted.
Hunt wherever you pleased. Daggone
Yankees comin’ in buyin’ up everything!
First they take everything around the
lake, then they take the farms!” He
grabbed his pistol from the dashboard
and fired at the sign.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I said.
“Somebody might hear.”
“Ain’t nobody around to hear. You
bad as they are, Brad. College gave you
too many uppity ideas.” He fired two
more shots. One went through the O in
No.
“My degree paid off. Money comes
in regular.”
“Hell, you graduated from high
school! What more education you need
around here? I done all right without
finishin’.” He put his pistol back on the
dashboard and rummaged for another
beer in the paper sack by his side.
“Hey, remember that last game our
junior year? When I hit that ball so hard
over the fence folks talked about it for
a year? My triple won the game! State
champions!”
“Yeah, I remember—the last winning
season. Team didn’t do anything senior
year.”
“ ’Cause I won’t there! Team won’t
worth crap without me! You ask
anybody.”
“I’ve lost touch with most of the old
crowd.” Then I changed the subject. “I
heard you divorced Drema,” I said. “You
still keep in touch with her?”
“I send the fat bitch a child support
check every once in a while. All she
ever wants is money.” Dodge opened
his beer and took a swig. “Want one?”
“No thanks, gotta work tomorrow.” I
looked at my watch. “Getting late.”
“Not that late.” Dodge took another
swig. “Stay awhile longer. Can’t believe
we crossed paths right at the ol’ store!
Good thing I stopped for more beer. We
got a lotta catchin’ up to do. Hey Brad,
remember when they put my picture in
the paper? ‘Dodge Rams It Home’ the
headline said. Dodge Rams. Like the
trucks.”
“Yeah, I remember. That was a long
time ago.”
“Only ’bout seventeen years. And
remember that time in Miz Markley’s
American lit class? You was up front
sayin’ that poem, and I chucked the
ball at you?”
Yeah, Mrs. Markley always made
us memorize poems. I still remember
that one. ‘The Road Not Taken.’ Robert
Frost. ‘And that has made all the
difference.’ ”
“Huh? What difference?”
“Last line of the poem. He decides
which road to take. That makes a
difference in his life.”
“Dang! Whoever thought I’d be
sittin’ in my pickup talkin’ about sissy
stuff like poetry with my ol’ teammate? I
never did learn that dumb poem. That’s
why I threw you the ball. My turn was
comin’ up next. Miz Markley sent me
to the principal for disrupting class, so
I never had to say it.” He took another
sip and raised the can in as if he were
An award-winning short story by Becky Mushko
ROADHUNTER
The
toasting me. “You made a good catch!”
“Good thing I did. Otherwise, the
ball would have hit Mrs. Markley right
in the face.”
“Ol’ witch woulda deserved it.
Makin’ us learn stupid poems.”
“The poem’s not stupid.” I watched
Dodge drain his can and crush it with
one hand. “The road stands for life. It
means we choose which way we go.”
“Durn, Brad! You’re talkin’ like a
college boy again. Life ain’t a road—
it’s a card game!” Dodge tossed the
can into the road and fired a shot in its
direction. “You don’t get choices. You
got to play the hand you get dealt. Like
that ol’ Kenny Rogers song—know when
to hold ’em and when to fold ’em and
all that. Trouble is, I got dealt a losing
hand.”
“You didn’t choose to drop out and
marry Drema?”
“No way! Her gettin’ herself pregnant
was just part of my losin’ hand. Her
daddy would’ve killed me if I hadn’t
done right by her. Her havin’ twins—
well, no way I could win then. Always
kids screamin’ every time I came home
from her daddy’s sawmill. Then Drema
gained fifty, maybe sixty pounds. Never
was gonna be a cute little cheerleader
again.” Dodge frowned and fired
another shot at the can. “I lost with
her. Things picked up some when she
took the girls and left, though. Then her
daddy fired me. Took me a while to find
a job.”
“What do you do now?” I asked.
He paused to reload. “Uh, this and
that. Got a little money when we sold
Daddy’s farm after he died. Bought me
a used singlewide on a lot near town.
Had enough left to buy this Dodge Ram
SLT. Ain’t she a beaut?” He caressed
the steering wheel. “Loaded with
everything! Even got some kinda gizmo
tells you where you are. I forget what
Discover Smith Mountain Lake
Fall 2013
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