Tea Cups & Tiger Claws by Timothy Patrick Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t say it ain’t true ‘cause you know it is.”
    Ermel didn’t say anything.
    “Come on, Ermel. You’re the one who thinks Joe Tanner’s somethin’ special ‘cause he wears a bowtie and has indoor plumbing.”
    “ Don’t start, Jeb.”
    “I just got one question for you, that’s all.”
    “I ain’t in the mood for it—and the neighbors ain’t neither.”
    “We’re just talkin . Is there somethin’ wrong with that? Now tell me, who owned Sunny Slope Manor before the Newfields?”
    Ermel didn’t answer. Dorthea heard her father’s chair slide away from the table.
    “Tell me who owned the manor, Ermel!” he yelled.
    “Prospector Railer,” she said , unenthusiastically.
    “That’s right! Prospector Railer! My great granddaddy! My family! Not Joe Tanner’s family, not any of the big shot families on the hill, and not even the Newfields, the biggest big shots of all! My family owned Sunny Slope Manor! Now tell me Ermel, who should be puttin’ on airs, me or Joe Tanner?”
    If Ermel knew anything, she knew how to light Jeb’s fuse. She stood up and said, “Joe Tanner, ‘cause he’s got money and you ain’t got shit.”
    The sound of glass breaking against the wall echoed through the little house.
    “I ain’t got shit ‘cause they took it from me!”
    “You ain’t got shit ‘cause you spend all your time fussin’ over somethin’ that happened a hundred years ago. If you tried think in’ about today for a change, I’d be livin’ in a house like Emilou Tanner, and I’d be wearin’ decent clothes like she wears!”
    Dorthea entered the room. She didn’t scare easily, especially when she had something on her mind.
    “Why don’t you just tell the police?” she asked.
    They froze in place.
    “If they took Sunny Slope Manor from you, why don’t you just tell the police and get it back?” asked Dorthea again.
    They stared with flared nostrils and fiery eyes. And then Ermel busted out laughing, followed by Dorthea’s father. They collapsed into their chairs, grabbed their glasses, and drank—him his rotgut and her the last of the gin. Then, since he’d broken her bottle on the wall, he gallantly poured a glass from his bottle, which she consumed with vigor.
    “Dorthea, come over here and sit down. I’m gonna explain somethin’ to you.”
    She sat next to him at the table. He smelled.
    “Right and wrong don’t matter, Dorthea. Rich people , who ain’t got nothin’ to lose, like to talk about right and wrong, and good and bad, but it don’t mean nothin’—unless you’re at the doctor’s office and he cuts out the wrong doohickey instead of the right one, then it matters.” He laughed at his joke and held up his glass. Ermel touched her glass to his and laughed along. Then he continued, “Now listen to me, Dorthea. If I tried tellin’ the police what the Newfields did to me and my family, they’d laugh in my face. They like throwin’ people in jail but right and wrong don’t got nothin’ to do with it. If you’re lookin’ for some words that will get you somewhere, forget about right and wrong and go with give and take, ‘cause that’s really how things work. Look around, every minute of the day, every day of the year, and you’ll see the world is full of nothin’ but givers and takers. Now they might disguise it real good, and call it somethin’ fancy, but they’re just a bunch of givers and takers.” He stopped talking long enough to take a puff and a drink, then he looked real serious and said, “And if you want to get down to brass tacks, you gotta decide which one of those words you like best. That’s what happened to my family, we never cared enough to think about it, so we ended up with the short end of the stick. Instead of being takers who get everything they want, we ended up being givers who worry about shit like right and wrong. The Newfields got Sunny Slope ‘cause they took it, and we don’t got it ‘cause we give it. We just never got