Machine Dreams

hit me once, but he wouldn’t know where to find me to hit me again.”
    Mitch smiled. “Gladys, if you pushed him to hitting you, what makes you think he’d want to find you?”
    Billy watched his mother. She was looking at her plate, and she spoke in a quiet, angry voice directed at the center of the table. “Jim wouldn’t ever hit Jewel,” she said. “He used to have to stand between Mother and Dad when Dad would come in drunk. Now, will you both stop this kind of talk. The kids are right here listening.”
    “Let them,” Gladys said. “Danner and Billy, do you hear your father?”
    “Hell,” Mitch swore. He put his fork down and pushed the salt and pepper shakers to one side of the table. “I don’t think either of you women has been much mistreated,” he said. “If I was up there at the Sunset Inn right now with every other man from along this road, you might have reason to complain. Am I right, Billy?” He winked and touched Billy’s hair. His hand was big and rough.
    “Mitch, if you’d rather be up there, go right ahead. Your son will eat your share.”
    “No chance,” Gladys said. “Mitch cooked this chicken and he’s going to eat it. Besides, those men will be splitting each other’s skulls when they get roused up tonight. Talk about hitting.”
    “Why, they’re nothing but a bunch of damn yokels,” Mitch agreed. “You take your life in your hands in the joints around here. They get out of the mines and they’re drinking from first light to last.”
    Gladys buttered her bread. Her dentures made delicate noises when she chewed. “God knows those miners have reason to drink,” she said. “They live thankless lives. When I used to own the shop, they’d come in at Christmas to buy a store dress for their wives.”
    “Miners make good money,” Mitch said, “if they didn’t drink most of it.”
    Gladys sighed. “Well, what would any of us do without the few pleasures we have? People go through times when they’d shoot themselves in the head if it weren’t for booze.”
    “Gladys, for Lord’s sake.” Billy’s mother rolled her eyes at him. She always told Billy and Danner not to listen to half of what Gladys said.
    “It’s true,” Gladys continued. “And some of those people are good people. I’ve known Clayton Bond to take a few drinks.”
    Mitch leaned toward Gladys over the table. “Gladys, that’s a damn lie. Clayton hasn’t touched a drop in years.”
    “I didn’t say he drinks.” Gladys smoothed her napkin over her lap. “I said I’ve known him to.”
    “Do you mean Uncle Clayton?” Danner asked.
    “There, are you satisfied?” Their mother put her silverware down, and her fork clattered on her plate.
    “Little pitchers,” Gladys said softly. “But it doesn’t hurt them to know things.”
    “I think it does, and I want you to be still.”
    But Gladys gazed out past the table, over Billy’s head. “Clayton is a good soul,” she said. “Bess is the iron in that family. He had some hard times.”
    “Who hasn’t?” Billy’s mother started to get up from the table.
    “Everyone does,” Gladys said. “Everyone at this table will.”
    “We could be a lot worse off. Gladys, come in and help me fix the shortcake.”
    Mitch was chuckling. “Gladys,” he said, “it’s a good thing we’ve got those firecrackers. They’re about the only thing that could drown you out when you’re wound up.”
    “I guess you’re right,” Gladys said. “Now I’ve got to talk twice as fast to get Jean to forgive me.”
    Mitch and Gladys were smiling. Billy watched his mother stack dirty dishes, and her tone was steely. “Can we talk about something else now?” she said.
    “Yes, Jean,” Mitch said. “What would you like to talk about?”
    Gladys lifted her napkin to her face and wiped her mouth. “Talk nice to her, Mitch. She’s going to be up saving you money tonight, making school clothes for these kids. Why do you think she’s got me out here? I bet you’ve already got those patterns pinned, don’t you Jean. And your potato salad was delicious, as usual.”
    There was silence at the table. Billy swallowed a last mouthful of white meat and turned his head, so Mom wouldn’t see himsquinting and ask again if he needed glasses. He liked to squint into the distance, out across the fields and the creek, to the hills behind the house. One hill rose conical and forested against the others; Danner said the big hill was a volcano and would blow up