Inside

The wind whipped down the street in cold December fashion. The first day of the month was turning out to be a bear. He snuggled a little tighter in his coat. He did love winter but could do without the wind unless he was all snuggled into his blanket on the couch. This wind was a knife that cut through his clothes and ate at his bones. It didn’t care if you had on one layer or five; it was going to get you. It was winds mission to bring you down. As he walked toward the moving van he asked himself why on Earth anyone would want to move in the dead of winter.

Oscar walked up the cracked walk way; up the shaky steps and into the cold house. The front door was open. “Hello!” he called.

A female scream came from inside the house. He ran in to find her holding her chest.

When she saw him, she smiled pointing her finger at him. “You scared me to death. I was so intent lookin’ for the mouse I thought I saw in the closet. But gee whiz brother. You scared the life out of me.”

“I’m so sorry. I meant no harm. I,” he pointed out the door. “I live across the street. I thought you might need some help unloading the truck.”

“Shoo,” she panted. “Give me a minute to find my heart.”

Good going Oscar, he told himself. Scare her half to death. Fool! He took in the small kitchen were they stood. It had yellow butterfly paper on the walls. The red and green checkered rug had holes worn in it down to the hard wood floor. There was an old sink up against the left wall and one old cabinet on the back wall. She was standing in what must have been a pantry. That currently she was calling a closet. It was apparent no one had been here for years. A fact he knew. Everything smelt of must and mold.

His new neighbor seemed to be wound a little tight. To get this worked up over a mouse was a bit much. But she didn’t curse him out for scaring her. That was a plus. Her light blonde hair was cut really short. She had plenty of curves. Curves for days, he told himself. Curves a man could get lost in. He didn’t like skinny women. The only thought process he could come up with was because he was so skinny and had spent the last ten years so sick. He smiled despite himself.

Chet’s only charge as far as the house was concerned was to mow the grass, put on a fresh coat of paint every now and then, and fix any storm damage that might occur.

Suddenly it dawned on him, seeing the inside of this house wouldn’t spoil the romance he felt toward it. To the contrary, it fueled his imagination. “I always wanted to know what the inside of this house looked like.” He smiled, not at her but at the house.

Winter Season

New neighbors?

Otis looked the coffee table over, “ain’t ‘nough money in the ho wide world make me be a school teach.”

Oscar had had enough of this visit. “There ain’t enough money in the universe to get you to work let alone choose a field to work in.”

“No need to be ugly. I stopped to see ‘bout you.”

Oscar glared at Oat.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that.” His brother scoffed as he pushed the recliner open. “Called like twenty times. I ain’t leavin’ no message. Goberment done got my number. I’m keepin’ what’s left.”

Alright, Oscar thought to himself as he leaned forward. His cell phone indeed did show six missed calls from Oat. “What makes you so special that Uncle Sam wants to keep tabs on you?”

Otis just laughed, “if’in I told you that, I’d has ta kill ya.”

“Of course,” as they were talking a moving van pulled up in front of the old Morrison house.

“Whoooo, looks like you be gettin’ new neighbors,” Oat drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “City trash.”

“Any idea who it might be?”

“Pussy heard town talk is’t Morrison grand youngan.”

Oscar got up from his seat disappearing into the house. When he came out, he had on shoes and a coat.

“Tell me you not gonna help city trash.”

“Yes,” Oscar smoothed down his collar.

“Shoot,” Oat jumped out of the recliner without closing it. “I worked all darn day. I’m goin’ home.”

Oscar roared with laughter despite his headache. “What have you done all day?”

Oat puffed out his chest at the insult. “Ben a daddy.” He slammed the door behind himself.

Oscar would have rather been hit than reminded of that. So what, he was fifty and unmarried. He was relying on God to help him find a wife. He wasn’t doing a very good job on his own. And he really didn’t feel like helping this person but it did get rid of his brother. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the cold. Snow was one thing, wind was something totally different.

Especially since he didn’t feel like himself.

It was probably wrong of him not to want to spend any time around his brother or his family. The truth of the matter was he didn’t like them very much. He loved his brother because they were brothers but he didn’t like the person he had grown up to be. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were brothers, Oscar wouldn’t even know Oat.

There was this small piece of him that was praying that when Oat became a father that he would be able to have a relationship with any nieces or nephews. Oscar was there for all their births. He sat in the waiting room with his mother as each new Patterson came into this world. But when it all became about the money; can you bring diapers when you come out? Will you bring formula? We forgot milk? Pussy’s sick, will you stop by Dillon’s and pick up her medicine; neglecting to mention that you are going to have to pay for it. He stopped going all together. Christmas his presents was demanded. He would give them that. He figured at this point he would get to know his nieces and nephews when they went through his class.

Oat was continually telling Oscar that he had gotten above his raisin’. A phrase Oscar couldn’t understand. He guessed it was impossible to make a better life for yourself; to not be what you have always known. In order not to stress over it, he told himself that Otis was jealous. It always helped him feel better for a little while. But never for long.

Winter Season

Otis

It was a good thing this panic attack happened on a Friday night. Looks like he slept most of Saturday away. His papers hadn’t magically graded themselves, nor did the snow amount to much.

He did muster up enough energy to call Chet, to thank him for caring so much. He knew that if he ever needed anything, all he had to do was call Chet. And like wise he would do whatever he could for his best friend. He did ask Chet about the key. Oscar had given him one but Chet had left it at home.

The knob to Oscar’s front door started turning violently. When Oscar’s brother realized he couldn’t get in by force, he knocked. “I wasn’t gonna stop but ma made me.” He pushed past Oscar into the house. “Ma’d be here if’ that rude friend of yourn would’ve come got her.”

“Why didn’t you bring her? You live with her.” Oscar thought after he spoke that he shouldn’t have said that. It was one of many things as a Christian he knew he needed to work on.

“You know I ain’t got no money.” Oat threw himself down into Oscar’s chair. “Plus,” he drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “I’s nailin’ the misses.”

“If you are going to sit down, I would prefer you do it like you have some manners.” He picked up his glass and took it to the kitchen.

“Bro, you know what you need?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

Oscar and Otis were as different as night and day. Oscar found himself wondering if they really did have the same parents. He envisioned he belonged to the milk man. But that wasn’t the case. He was turned more like his father and Otis more like their mother. The ten years difference between them was noticeable to everyone that knew the both of them. Oscar tried to keep that group very small. But growing up and living in a small town didn’t make this easy.

“You need fucked. Ah good lay do you a ho heap ah good. Pussy got a cos, Doris. Ain’t much to see but ain’t all tits the same in the dark?”

“How many times do I have to ask you not to use that language in my presents?” He sat on the couch gazing out the window.

“You need a woman.”

“That is such a red neck thing to say.”

Otis laughed, “I’m red. Good ole boy sum say.”

Oscar leaned back into the soft cushions of his couch. The smell of Otis’ cheap cologne, sweat, and beer was causing his head to throb. “The only time you ever come over here is when you want something, what do you want?”

Winter Season