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Show 112 and Rising 23 "I need you, Esther." His face was set. "Now." Esther rummaged through the orange crates for soap, scissors, and washcloth, asked Alf to bring the Bible, and t o ld Elizabeth to watch the baby. "Fourth week of 112 degrees," Alf said, backing the car into the road. "Somebody said i t h i t 140 down in the canyon." " A l f . . . " Esther tied her straw hat ribbons under her chin. " I t ' s cool up here compared to that." He winked at her. " A l f , I don't feel so good." "You'll feel better when the sun goes down. We'll invite Johnny up to play his horn. 'Dark Town S t r u t t e r ' s B a l l . ' We'll sing." " I am too old for that baby." "Too old? Why you're a spring chicken." " I am the gizzard and the neck, the plucked skin." " I f I do a good job here, I might get promoted to manager of the vegetable department at the company store. Greens. Crisp carrots and celery. Butter squash, crookneck, zucchini. Apples to crunch your teeth i n , juice dripping down your chin. Won't that be f i n e , Esther?" She stared at the dust r i s i n g , reeling into the car window onto her white hands, into the cuticles of her f i n g e r n a i l s , powdering them brown. "Let's get out of this hell hole, A l f ." "Things are good now, Esther. They l i k e me on the job." "They always l i ke you in the beginning." "Esther," he glared at her, his eyeglasses mirrors of sunlight. "Your mouth." He geared down over the last h i l l . "I try to believe in myself and you're always there with your mouth." |