Neighborhood Rumble

Their voices carried across the prairie into my backyard. His was the loudest, accusatory, strong, self-righteous. I tried to make out the words. F--- was all that I could hear clearly. Then came her voice: angry, cynical, defensive, maybe a little whiney. It was clear, he would win. He was the most strident. What was the fight about? Burned steak on the grill? Too much shopping going on? Junk in the backyard? I doubt it. Something more like, I'm embarrassed by your stupid outbursts, your temper, your constant complaining. Why can't you be like Joe's wife--a looker, slim, big boobs, full hair, holds her liquor, real whistle bait, always agreeable?
Because I'm your wife. You, the big bafoon, overgrown ape, can't fix anything but good at breaking everything, including our marriage! I could have done a lot better, but I thought you would be different. The best of the lot, I thought. Boy, what a fool I was. All that bragging you did about how much money you made. Now you got fired and you're sitting at home in front of the TV. Day after day. You don't even shave! My girlfriends keep asking what's wrong, why am I down in the dumps? I don't know what to tell them. The truth? Would you like that? Oh, my husband just got ticked off and told his boss where to go. Next thing, he's out the door.
And what about the kids? They need school clothes, shoes, books, lunch money. Where is that going to come from, huh? Your drunken father? My crippled mother? It was your idea to leave Iowa and move to Chicago. More work opportunities, you said. Well, here we are. I should never have let you talk me in to it. What was I thinking?
Oh, yah. Well, you have arms and legs. And a backside. Why don't you get a job? Always talking about how attractive you were to your old boyfriends. Get out there and prove where your looks can get you. It's not my fault housing construction has shut down and guys are being let go. I tried. Honest to God, I did. Every day in the hot sun, sweating, aching from carrying shingles up those ladders. I just couldn't take being yelled at all the time. Hurry it up, he said, move faster. It felt like those slaves building the pyramids. So I told him to shove it, that's what I did. So Monday, I'll sit in the hall and wait for work. I got it before; I can get it again. (to be continued...)