Chapter 5

“Did you watch that new documentary on Netflix last night,” Missy B. asked after Doober put her on speaker.

Doober was leaning over his scratch and dent coffee table as he sat on his new sofa. he had retrieved it from a high school acquaintance’s parents. They were upgrading to a new couch, one with recliners and a box in the middle for the TV remote. They did not want to pay the extra fee to send furniture to the dump and Doober lacked a couch or the money for one, which made everyone happy. The fabric was worn, but there were no rips or burns. His ma had given him two crocheted sleeves with white petals and orange stamen for the worn arms.

“No,...”

“You didn’t watch the ‘Prom Queens of Texas’ last night? I would have thought all those jiggling breasts would be your siren call.”

“I can watch a baseball game on a subscription channel that I liberated from a coworker,” Doober said. “I’m still not tolerating well most of the other stuff on cable. When I’m over at my ma’s house and she puts on one of her reality shows, I have to fight the urge to run screaming out of the house.”

“Reality shows make most of us want to run into the bayou,” Missy B. said. “What are you doing in the evenings if you ain’t plugged in?”

Doober pinched his right eye closed as he tried to remember their last conversation. “When is the last time we talked, Missy B.”

“Several weeks, I think,” she said. “The semester started for me, and you had to work nights and weekends for your mom again.”

“The Dollar General was temporary,” he said, as he equivocated. “The truth is, Missy B...”

“Don’t tell me you met a woman,” she yelled into the phone. “I swear to God, I will rip you from limb to limb, roll you in salt, and feed you to the gators.”

“HEY!” Doober shouted back. “There ain’t no woman. I went back to school, okay? I’m just a tad embarrassed about it is all. You’re the first one I’ve told after my mother,” he said softly. “What do you mean ‘another woman?’”

“You heard me, Doober, and you heard me clear.” There was a menace in her voice. Then she changed her voice to light and sweetness, “What are you going to school for?”

“I’m earning a certification in building appraisal,” Doober said as he tried to keep the confusion out of his voice. Who was this woman of many voices? “There’s a number of levels of certification and I’ve got to do an internship to prove I earned it.”

“How are you paying for it?”

“Well, the truth is that I stopped drinking for the time being, and you and ma made me stop smoking, which saved me a ton of money. I was putting aside a little money each month for a new truck too. I’ll just have to wait longer for a new truck.”

“No student loans?”

“I don’t even know if such a thing is available, but I don’t have any school loans or any other loans, now that I think about it,” Doober said.

“Is it hard?”

“There is a bunch of memorizing to do, but the funny thing is that I’m learning why my boss does things the way he does. He will take shortcuts here but not there. Sometimes he orders a teardown and redo while other times he turns a blind eye. I see, now, there is a method to his madness.”

A weight was lifted off his chest. Most of his friends including ‘The Three’ understood High School as a rite of passage to be endured rather than education. If he had told any of them that he was going back to school, he would have been ridiculed and heckled. They might have put his likeness on the dartboards during the qualifiers just for a laugh. After all, a guy might even be weak or defective if he had to go back to school for more learning. Education was one of those questionable things.

He knew Missy B. would not embarrass him, but her questions made him feel a whole lot better. Just talking to her on the phone lifted the daily gloom. Unless she was running an errand, they did not get to see each other face-to-face too often. She had school, work-study, and her momma’s rules. Even if he went to his momma’s church, Missy B. would be sitting up front with the organ and there was no privacy afterwards, even for a few words.

He was still numb for parts of any given day. Doober learned that keeping his mind focused on tasks kept him in the present. The certification course filled his evening hours better than video games or computer downloads. He was still surprised at how easily his mind could wander off into melancholy daydreams. With a mere thought, he could turn a rich and gooey bite of mac ‘n cheese into a piece of cardboard in his mouth. He was not a fun guy to be around sometimes.

He realized there was silence on the line. “I ran into Reverend Greyson the other day. He asked how I was doing.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I have good days and bad days, but now I’m having more good days than bad,” Doober said. “He told me mourning is like being on a ship in the middle of an ocean. The ship goes up to the top of the wave and slides right down to the trough. At first the waves are steep, but after some time, the waves become milder and troughs become shallower. He said that sooner or later the ship will come to an even keel. If I think I’m there, I’m not. I will know it when it happens though. When I reach the flat, still water, then my days of mourning are complete.”

There was silence for a moment. “Doober, can I ask you question that I promise is not meant to offend?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep the dubiousness out of his answer.

“Why don’t you come to church on Sundays?” Missy B. asked.

Doober did not hesitate. “Because I can’t sit with you. Reverend Greyson knows how I feel about God and Jesus, and why I don’t go with my momma. I love hearing you sing, but I guess I’m just a selfish turd because I want you to sit with me. I’d ride through Satan’s playhouse on the devil’s rollercoaster if I got to sit with you. I never ask you though because folks just love to hear you sing. Momma has to tell me every piece you sang at Sunday dinner.”

“I don’t know whether to hug you or strangle you,” she said.

“I’d settle for a kiss, but we never get a moment alone,” Doober said, believing he was a sly dog for slipping that answer in the conversation. “My apartment is a shithole, and I would be embarrassed to have you here. Even more, I don’t want you to think that being alone with me in my apartment puts some expectations on us. You know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean, Doober. Here’s a clue though. I know what sex is and I like it. C’mon, the church may treat me like the Virgin Mary, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t. I’m not out there broadcasting what I did or what I have done even if I was proud. Doober, I love that you treat me with respect, but I need you to see me as me.

“Well, excuse me,” Doober said. “I was raised with respect for women. I don’t brag about what I did with this girlfriend or that one, and I would never ask you to tell your adventures with your hoohaw neither. I want to think the best of you and make the best impression. If the church thinks your God’s holy virgin, I’m not touching their impression.”