Acie

 

Yellowed fingers clutch Acie's cigarette. 70ish. Her pin curled hair is spun silver. Blowing a cloud of smoke, she laughs, leans back, and starts her tale.

First time I saw Bill Keel, I was done. So tall he had to duck through doors, hair black as a crow's wing, and thin as a sapling. Oh my, my, my. 

Bill was 20 and me 16 when we traded rings at Rowell Baptist.

Bill loved to go cut loose at cousin Jesse's Honky Tonk. I never liked liquor. But where Bill went, I went. We'd dance real slow to The Last Date, by Floyd Cramer. 

Bill would dance with me and every other gal until, drenched in other girl's perfume, he'd stagger over, and lay his head in my lap. I would help him into the pickup and drive us home.

Next morning, I would cook bacon and hum to myself. When he woke, Bill would sneak up behind me, spin me 'round, lift me in the air and say, "I'm sorry honey. I won't never get that drunk ever again." 

Course it was a lie. We both knew it, but one look into them eyes was all it took. I would smile and say, "I know baby. I know."

Acie sips her coffee.

Did you know I could shoot? Daddy taught me when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I could hit a coke bottle with a pistol at 40 yards. I've killed a deer with a rifle at twice that. 

We loved hunting. Deer, rabbit, and squirrel mostly. Sometimes quail or turkey.

We bought a double wide, and a few acres. Bill didn't want no kids.

I took to gardening. Bill got me a little Ford tractor. Saturdays I'd fill the truck with whatever was ready, drive to town, and set up a stall. Made a pretty penny, I tell you what.

Every now and then, we went places. The Ouachita's, the Ozarks, and once even on over to the Blue Ridge in the Carolinas. We was happy. Truly happy. Me and Bill.

A raspy cackle. More smoke.

I stopped Honky Tonking. Bill Honky Tonked even more. He spent most of the money. Sometimes, he didn't come home til daylight.

I got fatter. Meaner. Bill got drunker. Darker.

I drew the line though, when he wanted to move that blonde floozy into the back bedroom. Said she just needed a hand up. I knew better. I told him I knew where her hand was a'going. The hurts we give to them we love.

Bill said he wanted a divorce. I said he'd have to kill me first. He drove off in a cloud of dust.

A long drag on the cigarette. Acie leans over, coughing from somewhere deep in her chest. She raises her head and the tears flow.

Never, in a coon's age, did I think Bill Keel would die by my hand. But one evening he come home drunk. Started punching me. I grabbed my gun, flew out the door, and run across the field. I tripped. He caught up and stood over me, waving his 45 around.

I said, 'Bill, please Bill - please honey, don't!'

When I heard the shot. I couldn't tell if it was from my gun or Bill's. Bill fell, and my world ended. Oh, my, my, my.

Acie hugs herself and rocks back and forth. More tears. Another drag. More smoke.

I go visit Rowell Baptist's cemetery every Saturday. Sometimes, I lie down in the spot next to him. It's where I'll lie when we're together again. I take the little tape player Jesse got me and play The Last Date. It's the prettiest song. It'll play forever inside me.

Acie smiles. Crushes out her cigarette. Blows the last cloud of smoke.