The bird figurines went on Cheryl's windowsill and the books went on her bedside table but she doubted she'd buy them at Goodwill again--they smelled funny. Goshen was full of horrible smells. There was the chicken farm on cleanout day, the feedlot, the trash can, the pig pen over at Chedisters'. Her mom's cigarettes, her dad's whiskey, her mom's breath when she'd been drinking vodka. The only good smells? Cheryl's bottle of Chanel No. 5 that her father had given her back in the good old days.
Cheryl had to be careful not to think too often about the home she'd left behind, how she used to sit on the patio overlooking Ogden. As a child it had reminded her of the sky turning upside-down. And the sunsets! Now their house faced a sunset over the hills and high desert of scrub-lands.
In the morning Cheryl got up to take a walk. Dad was in the garage tuning up the lawn mower. It was finally growing and soon it would need to be mowed.
"Hi, Daddy. Whatcha doin'?"
"Fixing the mower, as you can see. Would you hand me that monkey wrench?"
Cheryl knew what a monkey wrench looked like. And her dad knew she knew. She'd helped him many times. But just for fun, she handed him a screwdriver. He took it in his hand and pulled it to where he wanted to work.
"That's not a monkey wrench," he said, "Take this back and get me a golldarn monkey wrench."
This game could sometimes go on for a long time. She picked up a clamp and handed it to him.
"Bah!" he said jovially. Come on, with the monkey wrench, monkey."
"Okay, here daddy."
He stood hunched over the motor on his work bench.
"Everything okay, Cheryl barrel?"
"Just Cheryl, daddy."
"N'kay. How are ya?"
"Dad, you know. I still wonder why we moved here. I don't fit in."
"I'm sorry. I had to do this, you know. We couldn't afford to keep living in Ogden. The lawsuit, you know all that."
"But why Goshen?"
You kidding? This house cost us 20,000 bucks. It's twice as much in Orem and Provo. Business is going to get good here. I have to go where business will support us, after I lost everything. Even my pension. Look at me, an old gray-haired man. I don't know if I can even send you to college.
Cheryl had to be careful not to think too often about the home she'd left behind, how she used to sit on the patio overlooking Ogden. As a child it had reminded her of the sky turning upside-down. And the sunsets! Now their house faced a sunset over the hills and high desert of scrub-lands.
In the morning Cheryl got up to take a walk. Dad was in the garage tuning up the lawn mower. It was finally growing and soon it would need to be mowed.
"Hi, Daddy. Whatcha doin'?"
"Fixing the mower, as you can see. Would you hand me that monkey wrench?"
Cheryl knew what a monkey wrench looked like. And her dad knew she knew. She'd helped him many times. But just for fun, she handed him a screwdriver. He took it in his hand and pulled it to where he wanted to work.
"That's not a monkey wrench," he said, "Take this back and get me a golldarn monkey wrench."
This game could sometimes go on for a long time. She picked up a clamp and handed it to him.
"Bah!" he said jovially. Come on, with the monkey wrench, monkey."
"Okay, here daddy."
He stood hunched over the motor on his work bench.
"Everything okay, Cheryl barrel?"
"Just Cheryl, daddy."
"N'kay. How are ya?"
"Dad, you know. I still wonder why we moved here. I don't fit in."
"I'm sorry. I had to do this, you know. We couldn't afford to keep living in Ogden. The lawsuit, you know all that."
"But why Goshen?"
You kidding? This house cost us 20,000 bucks. It's twice as much in Orem and Provo. Business is going to get good here. I have to go where business will support us, after I lost everything. Even my pension. Look at me, an old gray-haired man. I don't know if I can even send you to college.
