My right

     Simon was sittin’ starin’ at the furnace. His mind was a million miles away. Reliving the comments Rebecca had made about the sheriff made him shiver and feel dirty. Life was precious. A gift from God. What you did with it was your choice. He was sure the sheriff had no power over his mother when she died. That was his cross to bear. It disgusted him that HIS WIFE found delight in the suffering of others. Surely God had a reason for what had happened. 

     He jumped 10 feet in the air when Rebecca’s voice cut through his silence. “What doin’?” She asked with a smile, “where was your head at?” She pulled up a bucket, turned it over to sit on it with him. “Thinkin’ about our delicious night?”

     “No, sorry. I can’t help but feelin’ sadness for the sheriff about his mother.”

     She purred, “my sensitive husband.”

     He turned to face her, “don’t you?”

     “No, he deserves what he got.”

     “How can you say that?” Simon was shocked to his core. 

     She shrugged, “how long has that man been sheriff? You can’t be in office that long and not be a crook. You know he can’t be a good person.”

     “I have never heard anyone say anything bad about him.”

     “You have read the stories Sunshine Sue published about him.”

     “And you have read the retractions and follow-ups. Sunshine Sue is a joke. All she cares about is the number of followers she can get.” Simon voiced angrily. “Draggin’ someone else through the mud just so you can create click bait makes you a horrible person.”

     “She has a right to make a livin’.” Rebecca smirked.

     “Not at the expense of others.”

     “Well,” she shrugged, “I’m glad he had to suffer.”

     “I’m not.”

     Anger shot across her face, “are you saying I don’t have the RIGHT,”. She put great inflection on the word – right. “to feel joy at his misfortune?”

    “You can feel whatever you want to feel. It doesn’t make me happy.”

     “You’re too sensitive.” She left as abruptly as she had appeared. 

Neck deep in lawyer piss

     Dillon climbed in his truck. He looked desperately at his phone, willing Evie to call him. When that didn’t work, he did the big boy thing and called her. 

     Her voice was sweet, light, and melted half of his stress away. “Hi lawman.”

     “Care if I stop by?”

     “Not at all. Want me to feed you?”

     “Not yet. I’m too,” he thought. What was the right word? He finally just said it, “stressed out of my mind.”

     “Get your grits here lawman.”

     “On my way.”

     She opened the door to being scooped up in a hug. “I’m sorry you had a stressful day.” He kissed her, “come here.” She sat with her back against the wall, pulling her knees up.  Then guided him to lean against her calfs. With gentle fingers, she massaged his scalp and temples. 

     “That,” he moaned. “Feels so good.” She didn’t say anything. Just kept massaging. “I have been that the courthouse all day neck deep in lawyer piss.”

     She stop massaging his head, doing her best not to bust out laughing. Full of curiosity, as to why she stopped, he leaned up. It was apparent that she was loosing her battle not to laugh. He grinned, “you think that’s funny.”

     “You talked about dad havin’ colorful phrases. That is on par with something that would flow from his lips.”

     “He did use the phrase ‘donkey piss’ a lot.” They both started laughing. Dillon’s stomach growled, “what was you gonna feed me?”

     “How hungry are you?”

     “I’ve been too big of a stress ball to eat anything today.”

     “Let’s raid the pantry together.”

     “Let’s,” he said playfully.

     As they climbed out of the floor, he first to help her up, she started speaking. “Do you think we should do a pre-nup?” All of the air was sucked out of the room. At the same time he felt like she had kicked him in the gut. What the?! A pre-nup was for rich folks. 

     That’s what he blurted out. “Aren’t those for rich folks?”

     “You do hear about them more with people that have lots of assets and money. I think it’s just smart.” He didn’t say a word. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” She encouraged.

     “It feels like you don’t trust me. When you said the words, it felt like a kick to the gut.”

     “I apologize for it hittin’ that way. Marriage isn’t something to be entered into lightly. We want to stay married the rest of our lives. Statistically, we know that’s not likely to happen. It is important for both of us to be protected.” The look on his face was one of utter disappointment. She held his face in her hands, “pray about it.”

     “Sure.”

What the?!?

     Simon jerked awake. He was lying on his side, his arms curled under his pillow; yellow light streamed into the room from the outside pole light. ‘How did this happen?’ he thought. With great care, he got up so not to wake Rebecca. The thought of what it must have felt like to find your mom butt naked, frozen, in a place like Coal Town consumed his heart. 

    He went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Memories of the years he spend wanderin’ returned with force. Most were good. Nature provided ample food and shelter. One cold winter he was forced into a rundown house in Denver during a blizzard. Other people had found shelter in the house as well. No heat. Little food. At first, they were skeptical about letten him join them. But as the blizzard raged on, they gave in. During the second night of his stay in the house, he and a woman cuddled up for warmth. She was rail thin. He had a few meat sticks and crackers in his bag that he shared with her. 

     As they sat under a rat eaten blanket, trying not to die, she poured out her mind to him. Originally from San Francisco, she mourned for the sand, surf and longed for the arms of her children. The victim of a car accident, that had killed her husband, gotten her hooked on pain meds and had spiraled into having her children taken from her; she sobbed on his shoulder. He had no words to comfort her. Just let her cry. When he had woken the next morning, she was dead. He prayed that she was sittin’ in the sand with her husband watching the surf. Not knowing what to do, he covered her with the blanket and left. 

    Rebecca’s hands caused chills to cascade down his body as she guided them from his shoulders, down his back and around his waist. He cried out, stifling it as soon as it left his mouth. She gripped him tighter, stroking with greater vigor thinking his cry was one of passionate delight instead of the truth.  When he was finished, she smacked him on the butt, leaving him standing there being pulled into pieces. 

    As he tried to collect his thoughts, it seemed to him that she took delight in having heard about what had happened to the sheriff. It caused his stomach to churn thinking anyone would find joy in such misfortune. Especially HIS wife. ‘Who was this woman?’ He finally got his glass of water. Went to the bathroom, before returning to bed. Rebecca dove under the sheets with the force of an Olympic swimmer. He started to say he couldn’t. But it didn’t take long before air caught in his lungs. His body was begging for release again. ‘Who was this woman?’