My Sweet Petunia Chapter 3: The Lamb of God

“Mornin’ Ralph.”

“Mornin’ Sam.”

“Weather nice last weekend.”

“Yeah it was. Get out and practice your defensive maneuvers?”

“Nah, I don’t waste my time on that no more.”

“How’s Deborah doing?”

“Good.”

“How are you and Deborah doing? You two been together for a while now.”

“I like her a lot Ralph.”

“She’s a fine woman Sam.”

“Yeah, she is. I’d sure hate to lose her.”

“Why would you lose her? Something wrong? You two been quarreling?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just getting old Ralph. Gonna be an old man before I know it, almost one now. Deborah might not want to stay with an old man like me.”

“Ah Sam, c’mon. Don’t say that. You’re no old man. Anyway, Deborah’s aging same as you. You’ll grow old together. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“What do you know about how it’s supposed be? You don’t know nothin’ about getting old.”

“I understand aging as much as anybody.”

“Growing up and getting old ain’t the same thing Ralph.”

“Maybe not, but you’re nowhere near being an old man. You don’t look no older than Deborah, maybe even a little younger. She’s lucky to have you.”

“What makes you think I’m younger than Deborah? She look old to you?”

“No Sam, I didn’t say that. Deborah’s a real good looking woman.”

“Good for her age you mean?”

“No Sam! That’s not what I said! C’mon, knock it off!”

“I’m sorry Ralph.”

“I don’t know how old Deborah is anyway. Don’t even know how old you are.”

“Age don’t matter.”

“You keep bringing it up.”

“Getting cloudy. Think it’ll storm?”

“Nah, probably just a little rain.”

“Can’t say for sure though.”

“No, you can’t. Weather can be fickle in Kentucky.”

“Weather can be fickle anywhere.”

“Yeah, it can. Nothing special ’bout the weather in Kentucky I suppose.”

“A lot of sheep grazin’ out there today Ralph.”

“Yeah, there are. More than usual. How’s that work anyway?”

“It’s up to Samuels.”

“How does Samuels know when to take them to pasture?”

“It’s under his discretion.”

“Yeah, I know it is, but how does he decide?”

“I don’t know. I ain’t him.”

“Think Tom Junior has any input on it?”

“Doubt it. I don’t think Tom Junior has much input on anything that happens on the farm. Don’t matter one way or the other to us. Just need him to go along with the plan.”

“You think he will, right?”

“Yeah… Yeah, he will. Tom Junior ain’t as dumb as he looks.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Nothing really. But he’ll do it. Lot of money in them sheep.”

“So when we taking him out for drinks?”

“I don’t know, maybe sometime next week.”

“Next week!? Samuels leaving at the end of the month, ain’t they? We should be meeting with Tom Junior this week.”

“Ah, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you’re looking at things realistically here Sam. If we want to make the best of our time here on God’s green earth, I think we need to be moving a little faster.”

“Ah c’mon Ralph, it’s supposed to be nice again this weekend. I’d like to relax a little before we set out.”

“It’s Monday Sam.”

“Yeah, I know what day it is. Two nights’ sleep, it’ll be Wednesday, then Thursday, then Friday, start of the weekend.”

“I don’t know Sam…”

“Don’t worry Ralph, it’ll be fine. You worry too much. I’m starting to feel a little under the weather anyway. Might be coming down with a cold. I can’t fight ’em off like I used to. I get tired. My thinkin’ don’t work so good. I want to be on top of things when we meet with Tom Junior.”

“Alright, next Monday then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Me and Deborah goin’ to the ice capades.”

“The ice capades?”

“Yeah, the ice capades.”

“What are the ice capades?”

“They’re like a traveling entertainment show. The skaters are national champions.”

“Why aren’t they competing in tournaments?”

“Well, they’re former national champions. They ain’t got it in ’em no more to compete, so they put on a show.”

“Alright, Tuesday then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Me and Deborah goin’ ice skating.”

“Ice skating?”

“Yeah, ice skating.”

“Ain’t the ice capades good enough for you?”

“No, ’cause I don’t get no exercise. Got to get exercise to keep God’s mercy.”

“Alright, Wednesday then.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Got to recover from ice skating on Tuesday. I ain’t no former national champion. Takes a lot out of me. It’s hard on my body. I get cramps.”

“Why you keep skating then if it’s so hard on your body. Why don’t you do something else?”

“Because I enjoy it. Deborah too. Frees the soul.”

“Frees the soul, does it? Soul of Jesus. What, you gonna walk on water now?”

“Easier to skate on it than to walk on it Ralph, especially for a man of my age. I like to get there early, a little before they open.”

“Why is that Sam?”

“Because no one has skated on the ice yet. It’s all fresh and new. Nothing on it, just a blank slate as some philosopher called it. Ain’t been all scraped up and scarred yet.”

“But it’s gonna get all scraped up and scarred, ain’t it? Some people are gonna fall on the ice. Some people are gonna die. The ice knows that.”

“The ice don’t know nothin’ Ralph. It just sits there, pure as the new fallen snow.”

“You any good at it?”

“Of falling?”

“Of skating. ‘Are you a good skater?’ is what I'm asking.”

“I know what you’re asking boy. And no, I ain’t. Should have done more of it when I was a child. Gotten all scraped up and scarred then. Taken my lickins as one should as a boy and grown up to be a man. But I didn't, and that’s how it is. I have to live with it, and I’ll have to die with it too.”

“So, we gotta wait ’till next Thursday, huh? Just so your sorry ass can be young again.”

“That’s right boy. Just so my sorry ass can be young again.”

“You know Sam, you’ve taking to callin’ me ‘boy’ a lot lately. Why is that?”

“Because you’re like a son to me Ralph, the son I never had.”

“You don’t look all that old Sam. I don’t know that you’re old enough to be my father.”

“Sure I am boy.”

“Don’t look it.”

“Everyone says I look young for my age.”

“You know Sam, you always say you been working the job for 28 years. You sure you been working the job that long?”

“Twenty-eight years is longer to you than it is to me Ralph.”

“How’s that?”

“Twenty-eight years is longer than you’ve been on the face of the earth boy.”

“That may be true Sam, but you didn’t answer my question. How long you been working the job?”

“Ain’t your concern how long I’ve been working the job. The more you ask, the less I tell. Don’t matter anyway. None of it does. You see Ralph, when we die, as the body decays, the skin pulls in a little, leaving the hair and the fingernails sittin’ there for a while. That’s what you are then: bones, hair, and fingernails. Then the hair and the fingernails decay, and you’re just a pile of bones, nothing more. It ain’t pretty boy. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That’s all there is. That’s all there’ll ever be.”

“So that’s why you skate, huh? Keep your hair and your fingernails looking good for when you die. You think a lot about dying, don’t you Sam? What you should be thinking about is livin’. But you don’t like to think about that. It scares you. So you just turn a blind eye and say you’re getting old. Let time pass you by, heave a sigh of relief, and die. Be done with it, once and for all. The good Lord gave you the gift of life and you won’t even open it. You’re just waiting for the grim reaper to take it. Meantime, you’ll tell anyone who will listen that it don’t matter anyway. None of it does. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

You’re right Sam. I am still a boy, and there’s a lot I gotta learn about life. But you ain’t never learned it yourself. You’re afraid to learn it. So you figure, if I’m your boy, then you ain’t gotta do nothin’ ’cept be my pa. You just live your life through mine. Pass on your pearls of wisdom, tell me to do my best, and see what happens. If I succeed, you can be proud of me; you can call me your son. If I don’t, ain’t no shame you didn’t neither when you had the chance. Either way, you can die in peace. Ain’t that right, pa?

You play God Almighty, the Holy Father, and you’ve chosen me as your sole begotten son, your sacrificial lamb. I bear the cross of life on earth while you sit up there on your throne in heaven and watch the show, like it’s the ice capades or the Saturday morning cartoons. You like it that way, don’t you Sam? Alright, we’ll talk with Tom Junior next Thursday. That’s fine. I’ll be there, standing side by side with you, eager as always, with everything I said tonight and everything you said tonight gone and forgotten. It’ll be a brand new, spanking clean, blank slate.”