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Show He worries about it until he is physically ill, and the only answer he has to that is to work harder and faster and drink more beer. By the middle of the afternoon he has finished the third side of the house and started the fourth, the front and last. Jesus Christ, says Dave from the ground, no need to take it so fucking serious, we're not college kids anymore you know. It'll get done when it gets done. But Morgan will not slow down, does not bother to wipe away the sweat that rolls from his forehead and drips off his nose into the can of paint, does not stop until the sun has set and he can no longer tell where his brush has been. When he takes a shower he makes it a point not to look at himself. Look, says Dave, tomorrow Carol comes home so this is my last night as a free man. Let's go into town and raise some hell. Morgan doesn't want to go anyplace, do anything. But he does not want to stay at the farm either, Anne might come by, and so he says that sounds like a real challenge, raising hell at the one bar in Centerville. No man, says Dave, I mean let's go into the Big Potato, let's go into Vermillion. Dave is being a friend; Morgan takes two aspirin now and stores four in his pocket, chews at the extra skin on his lips. They speed down soft luminescent roads which stretch white and perfectly straight over the moonlit prairie, a six-pack of beer between them on the seat, Morgan grim and silent as they listen to the chatter of gravel beneath the wheels and Country Charley Pride |
