Page 76 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight
“How’re you so…” Cole waved his hand at him.
Grady sat back and set his empty beer aside. “I ain’t. Just, you know…” He waved his own hand at the field in front of them, the swarm of yellow bodies buzzing over the once proud stems, now barely visible under the haze.
“Just what?”
“Farming,” Grady said with a wry smile. “My granddaddy always said,You farm ’til you run outta money, and then you keep on farmin’.”
“That ain’t no way to live,” Cole said and stood, his legs wobbly. “You want another?”
Grady shook his head. “It is if you wanna be on the land. You reckon you need another?” he called after the slamming screen door.
“I reckon!” Cole shouted.
Grady smiled and looked at the buzzing in front of him, the last of them finishing off what they’d started. They were tapering off now, mostly—windshields full of them, windows, the ground; a swarm of dead bodies born to come do their damage and then die.
The door slammed open behind him, and Cole slumped down on the step below, his torso leaning sideways on Grady’s thigh. Cole handed the bottle back, Grady cracked it open on the post and passed it back to him. Cole drank.
“There’s gotta be a way to make some money outta it,” Cole said.
Grady shrugged. “If that’s all you’re after, I reckon there’s easier ways.”
“Whaddya mean?” Cole craned his head back. He was flushed from the alcohol, but his eyes were still steady. Grady reckoned it’d take a lot to get Cole out of it. Sex seemed to do it, but other than that, he was always sharp, always watching.
“If you aimin’ to make money, live comfortable, well then. I reckon you’d sell the land, move to the city and get yourself a job, a steady paycheck.”
“And then what?”
Grady smiled knowingly down at him. “Exactly.”
Cole nodded like Grady had just confirmed everything he’d always been thinking. “Exactly,” he repeated and turned to drink his beer.
They sat for a while in silence, Cole finishing his beer and Grady smoking a cigarette. Cole set his empty aside and started picking at the inseam on Grady’s pant leg, his nimble fingers a steady patter on Grady’s inner thigh.
“Guess you might not be needin’ a hand now,” Cole said.
Grady glanced down at him, at the back of his head where it was bent and looking at the thread he was playing with. He hadn’t broken it, just picked at it. His hair was shiny like usual, thick, and long past his shoulders; he’d be able to tie it back like a girl’s now. There was a slight crimp to it, and Grady slid his hand into it, gave a little tug. Cole didn’t look up, but he allowed the movement with the way he shifted into it.
“Might have to look at what we lookin’ at first,” Grady said.
Cole nodded. “Reckon we won’t be lookin’ at much.”
Grady scratched Cole’s scalp with his blunt fingernails.
“I gotta expand that barn,” Grady said.
“Huh?”
That got Cole’s head turning. Grady left his hand where it was. He’d been thinking on it in a background kind of way for a few weeks. Somehow that background became a voice before he’d acknowledged it was a real possibility.
“Need to build more stalls,” Grady said.
“What for?”
“Whaddya reckon?”
Cole smiled like that made sense, even though it didn’t, not really to Grady anyhow.
“Yeah, all right. What’re you thinking? ’Cause here’s what I reckon you could do…”
