Ron’s house wasn’t actually a house at all but a double-wide trailer he’d somehow got to the top of Wilson’s Creek hill. It was full dark by the time they’d driven back thru down, down the other branch of Wilson’s Creek and climbed up to just shy of the very top. RJ knew that somewhere directly below his brother’s house was his Uncle Bob’s house. His dad’s younger brother who had given Ron much needed guidance after their father died. RJ hoped that Ron’s trailer was further up the hill from his uncle’s than it looked in the dark, because the slope of the hillside made it look like it might slide right down and settle on whatever was below it. RJ stayed close behind his brother’s truck till he stopped. There wasn’t much choice in where he could to leave his car, the widest spot off the road was where Ron parked his truck. RJ stepped out in the dark and felt the ground give wetly. He squished and slid his way to the trunk, retrieved his suitcase and tried hard to keep it out of the mud all the way up to the door. His brother seemed to have several acres of land cleared for his trailer, but none of it was paved or even had flagstones to step on.
His brother was already inside when he got to the door and there was indeed sounds of gunfire coming from inside. A wide-screen TV took up most of the living room area, and a thin young man wearing a ballcap and tin of snuff was sitting on the couch watching “Terminator 2.”
Ron grinned and held the door open for RJ and his suitcase. “Told ya there would be gunfire. This here’s Albert, he’s a useless Fart that I can’t seem to get rid of. Useless Fart, this is my big brother RJ.” RJ nodded and leaned his suitcase against the side of the couch and took the proffered hand. The movie was still blaring loudly so he wasn’t sure what name his brother had given this stranger. “Nice to meet ya.” RJ was trying to look sincere but he glanced at the movie on the screen as Albert ran it backward looking for where he left off. RJ recognized the scene from early in the movie and inwardly groaned, realizing that there wasn’t going to be a quiet evening for chat and an early bed time.
Ron offered him a soda and some snacks and they sat down at either end of the couch to watch the rest of the movie. Albert was propped up in the middle with his feet on an ottoman and a can of beer cradled in his crotch. RJ sank back in the chair and tried to stay awake, answering questions as best he could but not hiding his yawns or pretending to be interested in the movie. He noticed that his brother and Albert spoke to each other in street lingo, or as close as they could manage. It amused RJ greatly to hear them try to sound ‘ghetto’ when they were 40 miles away from anything resembling a city, let along a ghetto.
Somewhere near the last third of the movie Albert paused it and apologetically asked if RJ wanted him to run it back to the beginning since he came in late. RJ assured him he knew the movie well and it wasn’t necessary to replay the first hour and a half. Albert started up the movie again and pushed the volume control up another notch. RJ could count 6 speakers in just the space around the sofa. The vibrations along his back indicated there were more behind or under the sofa itself. Ron noticed RJ counting, and bragged on his speakers stating proudly that he had paid a lot to bring them back from Germany and counted being able to play the TV as loud as he wanted to one of the key benefits of country living. RJ had to agree with him on that point and wondered if Uncle Bob agreed too.
Finally the movie ended and Albert lingered just long enough to finish his third beer before heading off into the dark. RJ’s head rang from a combination of the noise he’d just sat thru and his need for sleep. Earlier it had been the long drive that wore him out, now it really was past his bedtime and he felt like every inch of those 45 miles of bad road.
Ron pointed out the bathroom and told him to sleep in long as he liked, since he was going to do the same. He apologized for the couch not folding out and then went back into his bedroom for a spare pillow. RJ hugged a cushion and shifted his feet up, stretching his legs for what felt like the first time in days. Ron launched the pillow at him and it slammed into the right side of his face, causing a painful snap against the curved arm of the couch. “Think fast!” he said about 30 seconds too late. RJ was too tired to even give him a dirty look. He waved surrender with a vague gesture of his hand calling out “I remember I remember!” He decided against showering before bed and gratefully closed his eyes. As his mom would say, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. He smiled in the dark briefly, and was suddenly very sad and miserably alone. He wished he’d come home sooner, he wished he’d never left, but mostly he wished he’d never came back.