The Front Porch Prophet

“Diane and Truth Hannassey together?” Maggie asked, incredulous. “I’m having a little trouble swallowing that one.” It was an accepted fact that Truth had a roving eye, but most of her companionship to date had been imported, due to the size of the local gene pool and its basically conservative demographic.

“Me, too,” A.J. agreed. “But there it was. I’m glad Eugene didn’t catch on. It would kill him to know he has driven Diane away from men completely.” He paused before continuing. “I think he was hoping for a reconciliation, and maybe one more for the road.”

“Sounds like that’s not going to happen,” Maggie said, distracted. “I’m sorry, but I’m still getting used to the concept. Are you sure it was Truth?”

“I swear it. I saw her.”

“Relationship-wise, Truth is probably a bigger disaster than Eugene. I hope Diane keeps her eyes open.”

“I think she ought to trip the light fantastic with Eugene one more time,” A.J. said.

“Why should she?” asked Maggie. “All that’s over between them. She doesn’t love him anymore. Why should she sleep with him?”

“Charity. Sympathy. Decency. I don’t know, but she ought to do it,” A.J. said. “You would give me one more tumble, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would. But you haven’t been an absolute shit for the last twenty years. It is through works, not faith, that dispossessed husbands earn one more for the road. Besides, I thought you had a pride problem when it came to charity sex.”

“I do, but I’m not obsessive about it.” He smiled.

“I might find myself in a charitable mood later,” she allowed. “But first we have some children to feed.”

“Great,” he said. “I’ve been kind of steamed up since I saw Diane in her gown.” He earned an elbow in the ribs for the revelation.

They arose, and together they set to the evening chores. A.J. cooked supper while Maggie oversaw the bathing of their offspring. Later, the children were put down, each with a kiss and a story. Later still, in the glow of the moonlight as it filtered through the windowpanes, Maggie and A.J. drifted off in the easy embrace of two people unquestionably in love.

CHAPTER 10

What would it take to get some of that pussy?

– Excerpt of posthumous letter from Eugene Purdue to Truth Hannassey

A.J. AWOKE EARLY THE NEXT MORNING. HIS EVENING of intimacy with Maggie had done much to improve his mood. She had the ability to make him feel like he was a part of the world rather than just a mildly interested observer, and he felt renewed. He slipped out of bed carefully, so as not to awaken her, although she stirred and reached for him. He sat on the side of the bed and took her hand, and she murmured an almost inaudible sound as she settled back into slumber. He gently stroked her hair while she slept. He often watched her in repose; it instilled in him a sense of serenity.

She loved to sleep late, although the opportunity to do so did not often present itself. A.J., on the other hand, slept very little, never longer than five or six hours. He had received this trait from John Robert, and there was nothing much he could do about it. It was a factor set at conception, like hair color or political affiliation. Pigs can’t fly because pork is heavy, snakes crawl on their bellies because they have no feet, and A.J. was up before the sun because his eyes would not stay closed.

“If I had known you never sleep,” Maggie had observed not long after their marriage, “I might have had second thoughts.” It was three o’clock in the morning, and her new husband had inadvertently awakened her while making a sandwich.

After their initial introductions in that cotton mill so many years ago, it was some time before A.J. made Maggie his own. There were difficulties to overcome before he could press his suit, the first of these being geography. Maggie was from the Alabama side of Lookout Mountain, and this cartographical anomaly coupled with his banishment to Dogtown made it nearly impossible to simply run into her. So he was forced to casually hang around the parking lot of the cotton mill at midnight to even get a glimpse. Luckily, stalking had not yet been invented, and diligent pursuit was still somewhat smiled upon as long as it didn’t involve firearms, state lines, or lengths of rope. So A.J. coincident ally bumped into Maggie at every opportunity, always keeping up the pretense of happenstance even though he was fooling no one. Maggie evolved the habit of smiling when she saw him, unless the meeting was excessively serendipitous.