Page 40 of After 5

“What Jen means is we go out, but if you need anything, just holler.”

I didn’t want Darryl hollering at me or peeping over the fence and seeing my outhouse vanish. He didn’t seem like the type to spy on his neighbor, but then again, I had spied on him earlier.

He was a few years younger than me. A good-looking guy in a “I can hog tie a calf in under thirty seconds and have the body to do it,” sort of way.

He told us how he grew up in the trailer park with his mee-maw and his six younger cousins. Apparently, Aint Loretta’s son wasn’t any prize either and dumped his six kids on her doorstep.

“My mee-maw’s got her hands full with the young’uns. I’m going to send her money once I hit the big time.”

He looked a little uncertain about his talents.

“Clyde’s going to love the new place.” He paused and grimaced.

“Who’s Clyde?”

He slid his jaw around before he answered. “My potbelly pig.”

“You have a pig?” I asked, a fork full of ham halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah, but he’s real quiet, like a mouse, and clean, too. He only does his business in the litter box. I trained him.” Darryl chewed a mouthful of ham and used his fork wand style as he spoke.

Oh boy.

“Now Daphne’s another matter. She goes where she wants, but always comes back when she’s tuckered out.

“Daphne?” I sent Gertie a concerned look.

“My hawk.”

“Darryl, does my mom know you have a small farm living with you?”

My mom was the firm one growing up. No pets of any kind were allowed in the house. Eli brought home a bullfrog in his coat pocket once, and he was grounded for a week. The bullfrog was released to the wild.

Darryl’s face dropped. “I might not have mentioned that I have a few pets, but I remembered you was an animal lover, so I thought you’d let me get by with a few friends.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Animal lover?”

“You remember, don’t ya? The way you loved to ride Buttercup. Couldn’t get you off her to give anyone else a turn.”

The last time I saw Darryl I was ten. He encouraged me to ride his Shetland pony. The pony sucked in its round belly and the saddle slipped to the side. I clung to its mane, afraid I’d fall to my death. My dad had to pry me off the beast.

We ate cake, and Darryl told us about his new job. He was bartending at a club in Terrell, a nearby town home to the local mental hospital. The club was a stone’s throw from the DMV, so I was familiar with the small town, but I had never been to the club.

“I start next weekend.”

After dinner, Darryl stood and stretched. He walked to the back door and peered out at the backyard. “If’n you ever decide to sell, I’d like to have first dibs.”

“Sure,” I told him.

“Thanks for the supper. I’d best be getting home. Daphne gets upset if I’m gone too long.”

“Let me get your casserole out of the fridge,” Gertie said.

“Um…Darryl what happens when Daphne gets upset?” I handed him the potted palm.

“Hey there, kitty.” Darryl either ignored my question or was distracted by Gertie’s gray tabby perched on the back of the sofa, the cat’s normal sweater-snagging location.

Darryl balanced the plant on his hip, then scratched the cat under his chin. The cat purred and gave Darryl a nudge with his head.

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