Chapter 23

23
SAN DIEGO

"Buck, honey, try not to be angry. I'm late 'cause I walked back from the market so's I could save bus fare. I just don't know where those people get off chargin' near two dollars to carry me from here to the grocery 'n back! No matter, I bought you a nice little beef roast for your dinner, and since that's goin' take a little while I also brought you your favorite. That's right, a nice bag of Cheese Flavored Piggers. Maybe you can have a nice drink and watch some tv while I get your dinner ready." Martha Stratton always tried to put things in the best possible light when this happened. It was Buck's idea that the Bible said a wife should be home when the man arrived.

"Gimme them Piggers! I'm starvin' 'cause I ain't had nothin' to eat since breakfast. Did'ja get the mail?" He said, striding into the living room and the television.

"No, honey, I been at the market. We just about didn't have any food at all. There wasn't nothin' to make for your supper, honey." Martha continued a narrative of positivism as she took the groceries from a single bag.

"Well, how in the hell am I gonna read the mail and take care of this ministry o' mine if I ain't got the mail, woman? Why don't you jes get your big ass over there an' get it?" Buck was on full automatic, crude, vulgar and hateful.

"Let me flour this roast and get it in the oven, then I'll go for the mail." Martha Stratton got the roast as far as a shallow bowl on the counter of the cramped little kitchen.

"Now dammit! Ma' godamned dinner's already late on account o' you messin' around all afternoon. That ain't goin' get no better. Now yer tellin' me I ain't gonna have no mail on account o' you wastin' time all afternoon, gettin' back from the grocery late then wantin' to fiddle around in there while I'm sittin' here near starvin' to death!" These words seemed to come from the back of Buck Stratton's head -- the only part of him visible over the back of his chair in front of the television. To end any possible further discussion he thumbed the remote volume up to high. The sounds of the endless football game edged out any possible communication.

Martha took time to put on her boots. The road to the mail station in the center of the trailer park was still muddy a day after the last hard rain. Taking her coat, she hurried outside putting it on as she went. She met her neighbor, Betty, on the same mission. As is the case with trailer parks everywhere, there were no secrets here.

"I heard what that son-of-a-bitch said to you, Martha. He's dumpin' that Bible crap on you just like he could read it! Don't he know he couldn't even preach as good as he does if it weren't for you readin' him stuff for his sermons?" Betty, older than Martha, took her arm to steady herself on the uneven driveway. "I'll tell you what the Bible says! Says when you're married to a bastard like that, that's why God made ten inch skillets! Ever man got to sleep sometime! If you ain't got one, I'll loan you mine -- that'd give my Andy a couple of days' breather!"

"Now, Betty, you don't mean that. Buck's a good man, just got a temper sometimes. I know that its the Lord talkin' when he hurts my feelings like that. Jesus was real direct when He said how things were supposed to be in a marriage." Martha liked Betty, but the woman didn't understand Bible things very well. "Buck's taught me about that. I'm supposed to submit to him. Buck is the spiritual leader in our home. What he says goes."

"Honey, I heard that crack about your fat ass clear outside when I was walkin' by. You aren't supposed to have to be taking abuse like that!" The revelation of her eavesdropping seemed to open up even more topics for Betty.

The pair reached the mailbox station at the side of the road. Due the regulations of federal requirements, it was an exception to the generally run down state of the rest of Purdy Places. Martha placed her key in the box. "I've lost almost ten pounds on my secret diet. I'm hoping that Buck'll get a little more interested -- if you know what I mean. Oh, Praise the Lord! Look at all these letters! This'll make Buck happy. Maybe there's some donations to the ministry, that'll be good." Martha smiled as she organized the envelopes.

Betty collected her own mail. She looked into Martha's face with the warm concern only one woman could feel for another. "Martha, don't you ever have the feelin' that you 'n Buck are living' on charity. I hope you see the light someday and go out there and find you a man who's gettin' a paycheck every Friday! You take care. I'm goin' by Judy's on the way home." The two hugged each other standing there in the darkness and the mud.

Martha had no more than entered her home when Buck spun around in his lazy boy to face her. "I seen you out there gossipin' with Betty while I'm sittin' here near to pass out from not eatin'! See that's the problem, Martha. You're here to be taking care of me, an' I'm sittin' here with no godamned dinner! Its already near on six thirty! How long you figger I can last like this? Till tomorrow morning? Well, woman?"

"Honey, there was thirty-one letters in the mailbox! That last sermon was a real zinger, filled with the Spirit! Just think! Thirty-one letters!" She handed him the envelopes.

"See? There you go again! Why wouldn't there be thirty-one letters? All that crap is just your way of sayin' I cain't preach! Now, shut up and get my dinner! I'm busy with the business of my ministry! I gotta run that right or else you'll ruin it like everythin' else around here!" Buck began to rip open the mail as he spun around to face the television.

Looking down silently as she once again began to prepare the meat, Martha noticed as a single tear fell into the flour on the pot roast. It made a perfect circle on impact, raising a tiny cloud of white above it. But then she thought, "This just won't do. Despair isn't very spiritual."