I know this is Thursday, but I didn't know that when I was writing the story. So this is Friday's blog early, and then you won't get another entry till Monday, unless inspiration strikes over the weekend.
This is part of an ongoing fictional story. Part 1 through whatever are over on the sidebar, if you need to start from the beginning.
I planned on taking some time today to go on up to the library and use the internet to try to find out where Las Noches Apasionadas Del Amor Bajo Las Estrellas was filmed and all, and then Hank Jr. got out of jail and messed everything up.
Who’s Hank Jr., maybe you’re sayin. Nobody worth writing home about, should you ever go somewhere and write a letter home. Unless you wanted to write a letter about a no good two-timing louse who cheats at poker and just HAPPENS to be the father of my little Hank. I ain’t never gone anywhere, but if and when I do I will not be writing any letters about Hank Jr.
Me and Hank Jr. have been on and off again since I was about 13 years old. His daddy wasn’t named Hank, his name was Ed. Hank Jr. says his mama named him after Hank Williams, Jr. and if you knew Hank Jr’s mama, you’d know why Ed might notta had much say in the matter. Hank Jr. started sweet-talkin me back in junior high and ever since then he’s been like one of them stray cats that just keep coming around.
Anyways, he just got out of jail again and first thing he shows up at my doorstep. I let him in, because I never said I was smart. We sat on the couches and drank tea and he looked at little Hank wandering around.
“He’s a good lookin kid, huh?” Hank Jr. says.
“He is. Looks just like pictures of my daddy.” I tell him, settin the record straight. “And how was jail?”
“Well, heck, Jenny,” he muttered, rubbing his neck. “Heck, Jenny.”
We sat there that way for a minute. “I saw Mama on TV.” I blurted out. “Me and Jimmy and Lil Hank are going off to Mexico to find her.”
Hank Jr. sat up real straight. “Jimmy’s going over the border?”
I could see the wheels turning in his weasely little head. “We ain’t taking any luggage over for your grandma’s friend or something, Hank Jr. You can just find some other sucker-“ I started.
“No, no,” Hank interrupts. “That ain’t it. I just need me a little vacation, what with jail bein kinda stressful and everything.”
I looked real hard at him. He looked suspicious, but that was pretty normal for him. His hair was long and sticking out from under his truck cap, and he had on a old flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He’d bulked up a little in jail, I saw. I quit looking right about then. Last thing I needed was to be caught admiring Hank Jr.
“I uh, I been missing you.” He kinda choked out. My heart melted a little, but I held it back. He tried smiling at me, but it looked more like some kinda mutt with his jowls pulled back.
I knew I had to put a stop to this quick. I gathered up all my courage and said, sternly, “Fine. Fine, you can go with us. Just get on outta here before I change my mind.” And just like that, he was gone.
I just sat there wondering how the words comin down from my brain got all switched around on the way to my mouth. Good Lord.