Page 31 of The Auction
At first, he wouldn’t know what was wrong. If it even started, there would be all kinds of knocking and smoke as the engine ground to a halt without the right lubrication.Until it stopped. System wide damage throughout the entire engine.
Only then would he’d realize that he’d asked me to fill both our spare 5 gallon gas tanks while we’d been in town last week.
With diesel.
I could see it all now. Me blinking in earnest. My expression so innocent I could win an Oscar for it.
I’m pretty sure I filled it with diesel. I mean, how am I supposed to know? What do you mean it’s a separate filling unit at the gas station? How would I know that if I only ever filled up the trucks before?
I could do that all day.
He’d have to lose his temper. Even if it wasn’t directed at me, there would be cursing unlike anyone has ever heard before. Especially because he’d just gotten the damn thing working exactly as he wanted.
I’d found one of those old mini-cassette recorders in Herb’s study. I had zero idea what he’d ever used it for, but when I replaced the batteries the damn thing worked like a charm. I’d kept it in the back pocket of my overalls ever since. Now was perfect timing. I would record his cursing as evidence that I was in an abusive situation.
When I played it back for him, he’d see how trapped he was with my evidence and he’d have to let me go. Because, what if I started sharing stuff like that with the sheriff? Or, maybe ran into a door knob with my face?
He’d have more to worry about than losing his precious stake.
He’d have to see it then.
I wasn’t worth the trouble.
Overall, I was an exceptionally crappy wife. I gave himshit constantly for not knowing anything about farming life. I only cooked half the time. I wasn’t fucking him. He hated my taste in TV shows. There were only, like, three we agreed on.
Why keep me when I wanted to go? Why stay in this marriage when he could have anyone else?
Sure, his face was fucked up, but he had a decent body. He was super handy with tools and shit. He cleaned up after himself. Always. And I knew from experience his dick was bigger than average size.
He could find a wife who wasn’t a virgin. Who would go down on him every night. Who fucking wanted to live with him and have his babies.
He’d be so much better off without me.
My fingers gripped the gas tank handle. It was getting too heavy to hold for much longer. But I was afraid if I put it down, I would chicken out.
I tried to imagine her.
The new wife. She’d be so happy to help him with the crops and do his laundry. She’d have children with him and those children would someday getmyfarm.
Would I know? When I was in Seattle working in some hospital because I’d chosen nursing as a profession? Would I feel it when they eventually died and their kids decided what happened next with the farm? The house?
Sonofabitch!
None of this was fair.
Just do it.
I took the cover off the container’s spout and stepped towards the tractor.
One step. Two. Three.
I stopped.
Really, I was doing him a favor. He would eventually fix the tractor again. Then he’d have it all. The farm. The house. The new wife.
“Put it down.”
I whirled around, the plastic container bumping against my thigh as gas sloshed out from the spout.
