My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie I looked over at her as what she said finally processed. "You want to do what?" "You heard me." She spit a thin, orange rivulet of tobacco out of the corner of her mouth, adjusting the brim of her hat with stained fingers. "Shouldn't have to repeat myself." "Yeah, but...the ranch, and the kids..." "Aw, heck with the kids, Grant," she scoffed. "They're old enough to wipe both their asses and the cattle's asses. Bottom line, I'm getting out of here." "You're really going to take this offer? I mean, it seems mighty sketch." Smiling with nicotine-braised teeth, Jay brushed a patch of dirt off her boot and began walking back to the house, the tails of her jacket bristling. "Jay Morris," she crowed to me, as I scratched at my hairy chin, "never says no to a good gamble!" *** Five years ago. That was after I had sold the ranch to my brother. And th...

Gloria walked by the crib and stared on the creased blankets where the baby had once been. Not that little Joey had gone very far; his father had carried him, half-asleep, down to the den, where he had turned on a late night television talk show and was listening to a high-pitched comedian trying to squawk over pasta-strained laughter. She let her fingers curl around the tiny bars of the crib and felt them twitch.