PART TWO of Chapter Four…

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Long pause.

Gator slowly leaned back.

“…Mark.”

Another pause.

“…I don’t believe they appreciated your feedback.”

He took a sip of coffee.

Then looked over at him.

Now his grin faded a little because he could tell you had wandered into one of them thoughts again.

The rocking chair creaked softly.

Creeeak… creak…

He stared out at the lake a minute.

“You know somethin’?”

Long pause.

“Dat shirt thing…”

He nodded slowly.

“…dat’s actually pretty good.”

He looked down at himself.

“I reckon when we’re young we run around wearin’ little bitty shirts.”

“No worries.”

“No hurts.”

“No regrets.”

“No memories stacked on top.”

Then he looked back at him.

“But every year somebody hands us another one.”

He started counting on his claws.

“One for people we lost.”

“One for mistakes.”

“One for things we wish we’d done.”

“One for worries.”

“One for aches in places we didn’t even know had places.”

Long pause.

“And after awhile…”

He motioned toward his chest.

“…yeah, it can feel heavy.”

The lake stayed quiet for a second.

Then a little smile crept onto his face.

“But I been wonderin’ somethin’.”

He looked over.

“What if gettin’ older ain’t really about all the shirts you got on?”

Pause.

“What if it’s about who helps you carry ’em?”

Long pause.

Then he looked at Marks belly.

“…although in your case…”

Another pause.

“…gravity still under investigation.”

⸻

“And that brings me round again to you, Gator. I know no matter how many shirts I’m wearing and no matter how heavy I am with all the fabrics of life, you’re gonna help me tote ’em. I’ll be doin’ the same for you. No matter how many scales you put on, I’ll always hold you above water. Unless you wanna take me under with ya and do one of them death rolls or somethin’. That’s a whole other ball of strange, my friend. What do ya say we head inside and make these skeeters rub they belly someplace else?”

Gator stopped rocking.

The chair gave one last soft:

Creeeak…

He sat there looking out over the lake.

No jokes.

No smart remarks.

Just the frogs hollerin’ in the distance and mosquitoes buzzin’ around the porch light.

Long pause.

Real long pause.

Then he took off his hat and held it in both hands.

“…Mark.”

He looked over.

“I been sittin’ out here thinkin’ about shirts and gravity and all dat heavy stuff.”

He nodded slowly.

“And I reckon maybe everybody spends their whole life hopin’ they find somebody that’ll help carry a little of the load.”

He pointed toward his friend.

“And buddy…”

Long pause.

“…you done already been doin’ dat.”

He smiled.

“I ain’t worried none about death rolls.”

Another pause.

“…mostly cause I got these tiny little arms and I ain’t exactly built for efficiency.”

A little grin spread across his face.

Then he stood up and stretched.

“Pop.”

“Crack.”

“Questionable noise.”

He looked around at the mosquitoes.

“Besides…”

He swatted at one.

“…I believe these skeeters done crossed from inconvenience into organized crime.”

He reached for the screenless screen door.

“…c’mon, partner.”

Long pause.

“…let’s go inside before one of these things flies off with your church hat.”

Mark opened the door and they both went in.

The door shut.

“Hey Gator, did you shut the screen door? We don’t want them skeeters in the house.”

There was silence.

Absolute silence.

Then from inside the cabin came the sound of footsteps stopping.

Gator froze.

Slowly…

very slowly…

turned his head toward Mark.

Long pause.

Real long pause.

“…Mark.”

Another pause.

“…I want you to walk with me through dis.”

He pointed one tiny claw toward the door.

“We have lived here…”

Pause.

“…for a long time.”

He squinted.

“You remember Chapter One?”

Long pause.

“You remember da flies?”

Another pause.

“You remember da breeze blowin’ through?”

Longer pause.

Then he leaned in close.

“MARK…”

He pointed dramatically at the door.

“THERE AIN’T NO SCREEN!”

Silence.

Mark blinked.

U

Gator blinked.

Both stared at the door.

Then…

As if the universe itself had been waiting for the moment…

A mosquito lazily drifted past both of them.

Bzzzzzzzz…

Then another.

Bzzzz…

Then six more.

Gator slowly closed his eyes.

Dropped his head.

“…they done heard us talkin’.”

The cabin lights glowed warm through the windows.

Crickets took over for the frogs.

The lake went still.

Gator paused at the door and looked back toward the porch.

Long pause.

“…same time tomorrow?”

He grinned.

“…and Mark?”

Another pause.

“…check your coffee for mosquitoes.”