By Emily Beck Cogburn
Susan rubbed oil on her cast iron skillet and put it in the oven. Going outside to escape the smoke, she sat on the concrete steps of the mobile home. She used to say she'd never live in a mobile home. Stupid name, she thought, the people who live in them aren't going anywhere.
Her husband was working today, even though it was Saturday. Jack sold cars (new cars he was always quick to point out) and had recently been transferred to Kenner. Practically in New Orleans, over an hour's drive from Baton Rouge in good traffic, even the way Jack drove. The promotion fed his ego, but did little else that Susan could see. He had made a good commission before, selling cars and useless warranties. And now the drive gave him another excuse to collapse onto the couch with a beer when he got home.
Susan spent an hour or so every evening making dinner, then did the dishes and read romance novels. All the while Jack flipped channels on the T.V. He didn't do much around the house, couldn't fix anything. Just watched T.V. or played with various new electronic gadgets: computer, digital videorecorder, DVD player.
She looked down the gravel road of the mobile home park. Everything was flimsy and worn. Jerry-rigged pickups with sagging tires, faded American and Confederate flags, peeling paint, and trailers on concrete blocks so they wouldn't flood or sink during the rainy season. Just like graves down here, Susan thought, people buried aboveground so their bodies don't float away.
When she was in high school, her dream was to go to college on the East Coast. She imagined living in Boston or New York, reading Shakespeare and going to the symphony in the evening. But everyone at Jackson High had been going to Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge or to work on the oil rigs. So Susan went to LSU, worked as a waitress, and hoped to get away after college. Then she met Jack. She wanted a church wedding, Catholic of course, and a big white dress that made her look like a princess. Jack didn't have an opinion on anything except the groom's cake. He wanted it decorated with a football field in green and brown icing, an LSU Tiger smack in the middle. Jack had never played football; he just watched the games on T.V. When her mother saw the cake, she said, "You know, it's not too late to call it off, Susan."
Copyright 2004 Emily Beck Cogburn
