After the Rain

by Renee Carlino

“What?” I said with an edge in my tone. His smug shit was getting on my nerves. “Nothing, it’s just, you’re so interested in that bitch. I have no fucking clue why.” I straightened and leaned my forearm on the top of the shovel. “Why do you think she’s a bitch?” “She just is. She doesn’t give anyone the time of day.” He continued shoveling while he talked. It was obvious that Caleb had some resentment toward her; he was more than just irritated at her indifference. “You know her story, right?” I asked. “Yeah, her husband blew his head off. Probably couldn’t fuckin’ stand living with her anymore.” He stood, mimicked a gun with his finger under his chin, and mimicked the sound of a gunshot. “You’re a dick, man.” “What? Why don’t you say that to my face?” “I just did.” Why in the world I would antagonize a three-hundred-pound man who towered over my six-foot frame, I’ll never know. Some deep-seated sense of chivalry surfaced in me. “You better mind your business.” In an utterly calm and matter-of-fact voice, I said, “How long have you worked here shoveling shit, my friend?” “Long enough to know you’re barking up the wrong tree. She won’t even make eye contact with me, so your chances are slim.” “So that’s what this is really about? What, you came on to her? Maybe you’re not her type.” He threw the shovel effortlessly across the corral into a pile of tools. “And you are, faggot?” “Neanderthal,” I shot back. “Pussy,” he said, walking away. “Maybe in another three thousand years...