What to Do When You Are Alone in It

Abstract

His name will be Earl or Dale or Leroy. He will be an air conditioner repairman and he will know things that you don’t: how to throw a lasso, the local hubs where moonshine is made, how many miles you can walk before hitting the Cheyenne River, which curls against the canyons like a lazy serpent. Fall quickly into intimacy, letting the long threads of daylight bind you like shackles. He will look like a film actor, like a young James Garner – a man acting like the lead in a Western. “Morning beautiful,” he’ll say, shoveling himself out of bed quickly, like a machine, like a law mower – straight to the shower, into yesterday’s jeans. It is exciting at first.