They Call Me Crazy Read Free Page B

her a time limit. Everyone in town thinks he’s a great guy, but that’s because they don’t know him as well as I do. Maybe that’s the connection I’ve always had with Cassie. We never talk about it, though. Both of us just put on that mask, the one that is meant to hide us, or Rolly, from the rest of the town.
    Oh, I’ve got secrets, but I’ve also got reasons to keep them to myself. And if I’ve got them, I’m sure Cassie’s packing a few, too. Sometimes, when I mention Rolly or the house in town or that shack they live in now, she squints and stares off into the distance, as if she’s seeing some faraway place that she can’t quite reach. That’s when I know that she’s keeping something inside, burying it, trying to forget—or maybe just accept, as I do. My little brother has a way of making you do things his way, whether you want to or not.
    “Don’t forget your cigarettes,” I say when we’re standing at the counter.
    She digs in her pocket and pulls out some crumpled bills. Behind me in line, a young woman with an armful of Sudafed and coffee filters bounces from side to side. Archie’s son, Walter, is running the cash register. He’s a respectful kid, keeps his nose clean, and if it wasn’t for an accident he had with his daddy’s bow a few years back, he’d be in the Army right now. I hope Cassie doesn’t say anything about his tangle eye.
    She points to a pack of Camels. “I never could figure out what the hell a camel has to do with smoking, but the camel is cute.”
    Walter turns the pack over in his hand before he hands it to her. “It’s a dromedary. One humper.”
    Cassie shrugs and thrusts the pack into her sack with the other products. The bouncing woman cackles, displaying black teeth.
    As we leave Archie’s, I take in a deep breath of spring air and let it out slowly. I walk Cassie to her truck and watch her climb in behind the wheel. She rolls down the window, and I stand there, wishing she’d stay and talk a while longer.
    “Thanks, Clay. I don’t care to shop much.” She’s a small woman and seems even tinier behind the wheel of the truck.
    “Say hello to Rolly for me.”
    She tilts her head and squints. Then she looks beyond me, beyond Deacon, to a place she can’t quite get to.

    After Cassie drives away, I sit on the bench outside of Logston’s instead of going back early from my break. It’s a nice spring day, at least by my standards. Clouds are coming in, moving fast, and I appreciate a strong storm. I’m thinking about Cassie and Rolly and worms. They all kind of go together in my mind.
    First, there’s Cassie. I’m not going to think about her much today. I do too much of that already. Rolly tells me she’s getting worse. He complains about it all the time, but she doesn’t seem any different to me than she did when we were teenagers. Sure, she’s got some problems, pretty serious ones, but she’s fine by me.
    Maybe her biggest problem is my brother. Rolly is a class-A ass, always has been. And I guess now that we’re getting close to forty, he always will be. They say old dogs can’t learn, and I’m pretty sure he’s not only a dog but a dumb one at that.
    When we were growing up, Momma used to say we were ice and steam: made of the same stuff but totally different. I was always quiet. I saw myself as the man of the house, the one trying to take care of things, the stable one. Rolly was unpredictable, hotheaded, and always goofing off. I guess that makes him the steam. His behavior was okay for a kid and even as a teenager, but once a guy grows up, he’s supposed to be a man. Of course, Rolly would say he’s more of a man than I am. Obviously, our definitions of that are different.
    I used to have people come into the store once in a while expecting me to pay off a bet Rolly had made with them. Settling up never amounted to a lot of money, but just the idea that he’d send them to me, without even asking, pissed me off. When he and Cassie