Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [9]
“That’s okay,” he says.
“No. I want to,” I tell him.
“Really. It’s okay.”
I remove my hand from my husband’s neck and place it on my lap. I look out the window. I’m afraid I might cry. He puts his hand on mine. This time, I pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.
“It’s not my fault,” I tell him without looking at him. But I don’t believe it. I think everything is my fault, including the demise of the coal industry in Southwest Virginia. I am the woman in this family; I’m supposed to make everything work. What I can’t seem to say aloud is that I’m failing.
“We’ll be all right,” Jack says, which upsets me even more. I hate when he downplays important things, the most important things! I’m furious with him, yet I’m also angry at myself. I saw this coming. I tried to talk to him about this many times, and he wouldn’t discuss it. Why didn’t I beg Jack to quit the mines when the layoffs became routine and the coal companies shrank their staffs and the train whistles carrying coal out of these hills became less and less frequent? I want to turn to him and say, “I told you this was going to happen!,” but I can’t. We have a van full of kids and Etta’s teacher and my friends. So instead of shouting, I bury my rage. I turn to him and tell him calmly, “I can work more days at the Pharmacy.”
Jack doesn’t say anything. He looks at me quickly and then focuses his eyes back on the road. “Well. What do you think?” I say, realizing it sounds more like an accusation than a show of support. He does not answer me. As he drives into the dark valley, he checks the rearview a lot. But there is nothing behind us. We’re the only vehicle on the road. Thank goodness the shrieks and giggles of the kids fill up the quiet.
The road to our house is so bumpy it wakes Etta, who has been sleeping since we hit the hill into town. She slept through dropping off her teammates at their houses and our guests at their cars outside the elementary school.
“We have to fix this road,” I tell my husband.
“Put it on the list.”
Jack lifts Etta out of the van and carries her up to the house as I clear the sandwich basket, the tote bag, and Etta’s book bag. Jack takes Etta to her room, and I go to the kitchen. As I flip the light switch, I hear a thump. Shoo the Cat has jumped from his perch and is looking up at me.
“I forgot your food!” I fill the dish, pet him, and apologize over and over. There was too much to think about today. Jack comes into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator.
“There’s leftover macaroni and cheese,” I tell him. Jack pulls out the casserole and puts it in the oven. “We need to talk,” I tell him.
“Not now. I’m tired.” Jack uncaps a beer and looks out the kitchen window. I don’t know what he’s looking at, the field is pitch black, and tonight there’s no moon.
“We need to talk about the mines.” I try not to sound impatient.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Well, what’s your plan?”
“My plan?”
“Yeah. What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m going to be out of work.”
“I know that. Have you thought about something else to do? Some other job?”
“No.”
“Jack, maybe it’s time to come up with something.”
“Maybe it is.” Jack shrugs. He is not listening to me.
“I know this is hard for you—”
“You have no idea.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yes I do. I know mining is in your blood.”
“Ave. Stop. Let’s just forget it.”
“Forget it? Why are you mad at me? What did I do?”
“You think I get up at dawn and disappear into a mountain, and ten hours later I come out and wash it off of me and come home to you. I don’t tell you the half of it.”
“Whose fault is that? You have to talk to me. I’m tired of pulling information out of you. I’ve worried every day you’ve left this house. Especially lately.” As the bigger companies pulled out, safety became less important. I would panic every time I heard a wildcat company was coming in to reopen old mines for quick access to more coal.