Cowboy husband quits his job, and: Two mothers and I work lunch shift

Abstract

Cowboy husband quits his job, and: Two mothers and I work lunch shift Aumaine Rose Smith (bio) at the nonprofit after three weeksriding his highways of thought.Across the oak tablehe makes his announcement.He has emptied his cup.Birds ascend from the deadtree outside. His lipsare an open pursefrom which I pull. He cannotcarry the banner of charityemptily, cannot ingest moneyand offer only words. He will notlook the poor childin the face and promiseto return tomorrow. He dropshis shoulders an inchcloser to free. The passion fruitI split for himquivers on the plate. Moneymakes my eyes blinkslow. The smile I give himslides down my face.The table stretches for miles.He is so handsome on that far plain. [End Page 120] Two mothers and I work lunch shift and it's nice this way, talking food, health, our various educations. You're quick they grin, lift full trays. Their approvalis nectar to me. Quick for what, though, no babies,most customers' language my own. I Google sofrito in the bathroom,having nodded enthusiastically to Do you know? Not knowing, not telling the truth, my real job. Lager sparkles in pint glasses. A hip opens the patio door. To tell the truth, it is easier to be good.Never mind low pay, the preferred currency of ignorance. Perfection is a familiar vehicle one enters and can operate alone. Trash scatters in the breeze. A washed pile of linens waits. Out back, one mother swaps shifts with her son.Maybe quick is in the blood? But at home, my brothers' intelligent thumbswork only Call of Duty controls. How can I make them pay bills? Dad texts. I don't say:a high-pitched acquiescence gets me paid. A torrent of ice, the bucket swings gracefully in straining arms. I cannot be alone in all I do not voice. [End Page 121] Twelve years of What can I get you?begets bafflement in a black apron. The mothers and I smile, grab keys, kiss goodbye,our remote material ordinary as some locked and darkened office. [End Page 122] Aumaine Rose Smith Aumaine Rose Smith is a poet, writer, and editor based in Cleveland. Her creative work appears or is forthcoming in AGNI, Kenyon Review, Pleiades, Meridian, Southern Indiana Review, Hobart, and other journals. She currently serves as the operations manager for Beloit Poetry Journal and is the managing editor at the Cleveland Museum of Art. Copyright © 2022 Middlebury College