Page 9 of Don't Trust the Cowboy

“Are you married?”

“Naw.” I wave. “I’m not the marrying type.”

“Me neither.” She says, as if confirming a thought. “My folks didn’t like each other much. And I made up my mind when I was little that I’d never be like that. That I’d never marry. How come you decided that you’re not the marrying type?”

“Well, that’s more the town that’s made up my mind, see. Nobody likes me in town, and my folks don’t like me. So, I guess I figure if nobody likes me, then I’m not fit for marrying.”

“That makes sense.” She says with a frown. “And why do people have to get married, anyway, right?”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, how old are you, Billy?”

“Just about to turn thirty in a couple months, as a matter of fact.”

“And when did you decide that y’all didn’t want to be the marrying type?”

“Oh, shoot, a long time ago. About the same time as I joined the military, I suppose.”

“You were in the military?”

“I was.”

“How come y’all decided to do that?”

I shrug. “Well, my folks didn’t have bread to send me to college, like my older brothers, and believe me, if it were up to them, I wouldn’t have gone for that. If they had their way, I’d be in the family business.”

“Is that why they’re mad at you?”

“It’s the only reason I’ve ever given them.”

“And your family business…it’s that textile factory up over the highway, right?”

“That’s right. And my folks told me if I don’t want to work there, I’m on my own.”

“So, what did you learn in the military, aside from how to fight?”

“A little of this and a little of that. Mostly business, some building stuff, and other things.”

“How long were you there?”

“Since I was seventeen.”

“Wow. That’s a long time. When did you come home?”

“About a year ago.”

“They just let you come home? I thought you had to apply to come home.”

“Naw, I got hurt, so I had to come home.”

She looks at me with so much concern, it makes me look twice at her. “What happened?”

“I got shot.”

She gasps. “Oh my gosh! Are you okay now? I mean, gosh, I’m glad you didn’t get killed.”

“That’s what my mama said.” I chuckle, not wanting to talk much more about this. I hate talking about fighting. It makes me sound like a fucking egomaniac. Joining the military isn’t something that I’m particularly proud of. Most of the townspeople know that I was a troublemaker with my folks, and the fact that I went to the military of my own accord is something that’s never discussed. My folks are happy to let people believe that they shipped me off.

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