Long I Stood There

“Hold muh beer a moment, would ya?” the thirty-five year-old driver said to his wife.

“No, I will not hold yer beer,” the petite younger woman replied, nervously knotting around her finger several strands of her long, wispy, light-brown hair. “Now you throw that out the window ‘fore trouble comes, or I’ll throw you out.”

“You don’t mean it. Why it’s the Fourth of Jew-lye; everbody’s drinkin’ and the pigs got bigger fish to fry.”

“No bigger fish ‘round here than yer fat ass.”

“Tough words, darlin’; I’ll be damned if you don’t bite. Maybe we get back an’ put those lips o’ yers to better use.”

She didn’t reply. He merely looked in the rearview mirror to see if anyone else was traveling down the straight, long gravelly road. Seeing no one, he downed the last of his beer and threw the bottle out the window. He watched as it smashed loudly against a roadside granite rock and the car swerved a little while he did so.

“There. Happy? I threw it out the damn window.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Get outta the car.”

“What?” he answered, flabbergasted. Then a moment later, “Hell no.”

“You didn’ listen to me, and nearly got us keeled. Now you get outta the car.”

“I did not nearly get us keeled, woman. If there were lanes I wouldn’ve even left ours!”

“I don’t care! Get out!”

“Damn right you don’t care. Yer just thinkin’ with yer feelin’s and wanna see me stranded on the roadside.”

“I don’t wanna see you anywhere!” she cried. “Now get out!”

“No woman of mine’s gonna kick me outta muh own vee-hickle.”

“It ain’t yer car. Daddy didn’ like you; bless his soul, he left it jus’ to me.”

“Fine!” he brought the car to an abrupt stop, his own forehead slamming against the steering wheel.

“Serves you right.” she said quietly, tears now glistening in her eyes.

Rubbing his forehead, he replied, “You know what? I’ll get muh own car. And good thing you got the car, cause where else you gonna sleep? The house is mine.” Leaving the car on, he got out, slammed the door, and walked to the other side of the road to stare off into the distance and cool down.

After a moment he heard, “Good luck gettin’ there,” followed by the scraping of tires on gravel.

“Sonuvvabitch!” he shouted as she drove off.




He sat on the rock a ways back where he had thrown his beer bottle, the shattered shards still scattered about. He scratched his coarse golden-brown beard as the early afternoon sun brought a filmy sweat to his skin. ‘Damn women,’ he thought. ‘Nuts. All of them.’ He wondered what he was going to do.

His house was a good ten miles from the spot, he figured, and he didn’t know the road well enough—they usually traveled in the other direction, toward the city—to remember exactly where the nearest house was, for all the good that would do him. Even if they were home, and not picnicking or visiting some friends or relatives miles away, what could he expect them to do for him? Drive him? Not likely. Call a taxi? The nearest taxi service was so far away he would get home as fast by walking, and frankly, he decided, he would rather pass kidney stones than pay that kind of cash. Call the Sheriff or a friend of his? Not gonna happen; he would rather pass the rock under his ass than try to explain what happened. He supposed he could make something up…

Over the next half hour he thought up several fake stories he thought might suit him, but it was really just an excuse to pass the time doing nothing. Besides, he was becoming convinced, or rather convincing himself, that his wife would be back in short order. She couldn’t possibly stay gone forever. She had no place to go; her parents were dead, she never had siblings, and she didn’t even have a job to pay rent with, although she did have the keys to their house…

‘That bitch,’ he thought. ‘If she gone back to the house after this I’ll…’ he didn’t really care if she did, however, or so he told himself. This was just a fight. They would be back together by the end of the day for sure. And he would teach her a lesson—take away her driving privileges and shopping money for a while—so this would never happen again. He thought about what he would tell her when she got back as he waited, still convinced she would return after an hour and a half of sitting on a rock alternating between biting his lips and gritting his teeth while scratching his sweaty skin and swatting bugs in the ever increasing heat.




She drove across the bridge leading to the small neighborhood where she had lived for two years now. She planned on packing her things and taking them to a friend’s house. She would leave the house, and him, planning on never seeing either again…

She wiped the moisture from her eyes. She pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she said aloud, “Moron. How long ‘till you go back?” ‘Never’ wasn’t a sincere answer. Maybe he would walk back on his own, she considered. ‘That’s stupid,’ she realized. ‘No way he’ll walk all that way. And the longer I’m gone the worse it will be.’ But whatever he would do she imagined would be too terrible to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t take her back. He probably took the whole thing more seriously than she did; thought she really meant what she said. Heck, she thought she did at the time. “I was foolin’ muhself,” she admitted aloud. “I didn’ mean it, and I know he didn’ mean it neither,” she tried to convince herself. ‘But maybe I’m foolin’ muhself now,’ was the unvoiced rebuttal from the doubt slithering under her skin.




He was beginning to fear she wouldn’t come back. According to his wristwatch it had been a full three hours since she left, or nearly four o’clock. About an hour prior the heat had caused him to walk another half mile to a lake they had passed on the way. There were no trees along the shoreline to provide shade, and it was muddy so he had to stand, but at least the cool breeze provided some comfort.

The water was relatively calm, and he tried to be as well. But he couldn’t help but think she was leaving him for good. At the moment he couldn’t tell whether he was more worried about that for its own sake, or because his ride home depended upon it. Regardless, the gnawing feeling was taking its toll, and every now and then he had to go through the rational, logical reasons she would come back. He couldn’t really think of any logical reasons she wouldn’t come back, not that he was trying, or that women were logical, but one profound argument against her coming back nevertheless remained: ‘While everythin’ says she’ll come back… what if she don’t?’

‘What if?’ It wasn’t a question of what he would do ‘if,’ but simply ‘what if she didn’t come back?’ ‘What if’ something; there had to be a reason it might not happen, even though he couldn’t think of one. It was almost like reverse faith. He had another side of himself dueling to convince him that he couldn’t be sure, that he had to worry. Like part of him didn’t want her to come back, so it tried to make him think she wouldn’t. He was unsure in this too. Worrying was for the womenfolk he always thought, but he couldn’t stop himself.

She was probably laughing her pretty little ass off; so sure of herself, whatever she was going to do she knew it the whole time. No hesitation. Just knew what she was going to do. And she would do it. Return or not return. Play him for a fool one way or the other…




She drove back down the gravel road. By now night had fallen. She was sure he would be angry; sunburn and bug bites do not a happy husband make. Still, she kept driving until she neared the spot where she had left him. She didn’t see him at first, but wasn’t worried because she didn’t know the exact spot and it was dark. After a while, however, she began to worry. She opened the door of her car and called for him. Nothing. There was only darkness and the buzz of bugs.

She began to fear anew as she continued her search. She drove past the granite rock, neither seeing nor even looking for it, and kept going until the light, reflecting off a lake at the roadside, revealed a movement in the shadows. She pulled to the side of the road and got out of her car again, but it appeared to only be a bat or other night-creature.

Just as she was about to return to her car he walked from seemingly out of nowhere and calmly got into the driver’s seat. He just sat there, door open, for a minute. Unsure of what to do, she eventually sat in the passenger seat and they both closed their respective doors.

She looked at him expectantly, a mix of fear and anticipation on her face. He did not speak. He did not even return her gaze, but merely stared calmly out the front windshield. He was so sure of himself. He must have known the whole time she was coming back, as she had suspected. He was always so sure of himself like this. Always in command. She didn’t understand it. She supposed she didn’t need to.

Far off in the sky, over another section of the lake, there came a flurry of loud bangs and colorful bursts. The fireworks display had begun. The couple remained at the lakeside in their car as the show continued for some time, eventually erupting in a passionate crescendo.