The Front Porch Prophet

“That was a nice touch,” commented Eugene. “Let the boy know he’s in the bigs now. Tell you what. I’ve got a rifle back at the cabin I guarantee will take all of these fuckers out at one thousand yards. Got a tripod and a scope and everything. Even you couldn’t miss. Let’s go get it.”

“As you pointed out last week,” A.J. said, “I can hit what I’m aiming at.”

“Pardon me for being indelicate, but on full automatic it’s kind of like mowing the grass. We’re talking fine work here. Ridge work.” His voice failed, and a small shudder overtook him. He downed a couple of pills with the bourbon, and then sat quietly.

“Where do you want to go?” A.J. asked as they neared the outskirts of town. The town wasn’t much, so neither were the outskirts. A decision would have to be made quickly.

“Take me to Diane’s house. I want to talk to her a minute.” A.J. looked at his watch.

“It’s still a little early. Why don’t we have a cup of coffee and give her a chance to wake up?”

“No, I was kind of hoping to see her in her nightgown once more before I die,” Eugene said. “She always looked fine in her gown.” His eyes were closed, and he was slumped down in the seat. His voice held a deep weariness. “I didn’t think I ever wanted to see her again. But as soon as you mentioned going to town, I knew I wanted to talk to her.”

So A.J. drove across town and pulled up by the side of Diane’s home. He turned off the truck and waited for something to happen. When nothing did, he spoke.

“Eugene, we’re here. What now?”

“How bad do I look to you? Be honest.”

“You look pretty bad,” A.J. said, telling the truth and hating its lack of mercy.

“That’s what I figured. How about going in and telling her I need to see her? Kind of prepare her.”

A.J. sighed. He had somehow known this was going to happen. He looked at his friend and saw the sadness in his eyes.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” He walked up to the house and rapped. At first there was no answer, but after a subsequent knock, the door opened. There stood Diane, and Eugene was right. She looked fine in her nightgown.

“A.J., what are you doing here?” she asked with confusion on her face.

“I need to talk to you. I swear it won’t take long. Can I come in?” She looked unhappy with the request. “This is important,” he said. “Please.” She considered for a moment. Then she shook her head before looking over her shoulder.

“The boys spent the night with their granddaddy,” she said quietly. “I have company. Could you come back in about an hour? We can talk all morning then, if you want to.” A.J. sighed. It was a good thing the porch was unobservable from the truck.

“I have Eugene in the truck,” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour.” A look of wariness entered her eyes. “Diane, please. I wouldn’t have brought him if I didn’t think it was important.”

“Okay. One hour. I’m trusting you on this, A.J.” She closed the door, and A.J. made his way back to the truck. Eugene appeared to be asleep, but he opened his eyes when the truck door slammed.

“I couldn’t get anyone to the door,” A.J. lied. “She must be in the shower. We’ll try back in an hour or so.”

“I still have a key to this house,” Eugene said. “She looks even finer in the shower than she does in her nightgown.”

“Let’s just come back later,” A.J. said, U-turning on the spot so Eugene would not see the mystery visitor’s car parked out front. A.J.

had recognized it and was having difficulty absorbing its implications. “If I saw Diane in the shower,” he continued, “we would just have to fight again. It would look bad for me to whip a man in your condition. I’d do it, but it would look bad.”

“I can whip you with one pancreas tied behind my back,” Eugene responded. A.J. could tell he was tired and decided to swing by and see Doc Miller while they were waiting for Diane’s appointment book to clear up. He did not burden Eugene with the information, but they were going to the doctor, and that was that. Eugene looked bad and sounded worse. Predictably, he bowed up as soon as they entered Doc’s driveway.

“Hell, no,” he said.

“You come in, or I’ll bring him out. Pick it.”

“Bastard,” Eugene said, opening his door and getting out.

“Language,” A.J. said as he walked him slowly to the steps. They progressed to Doc’s door. Eugene stood there with his shoe box and grumbled while A.J. knocked. Presently, Doc answered. He was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, a T-shirt, and a pair of worn slippers. He held a cup of coffee and the door as they filed in.

“Doc, you need to take a look at Eugene,” A.J. said.

“They dress a little better down at Emory,” chided Eugene as he eyed Doc’s footwear.

“Well, go on down to Emory, or come on in the office,” said Doc testily. “My eggs are getting cold.”