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had finally asked Myrtle if she drove at all. He'd noticed that Arby's old Buick hadn't moved since the funeral. Myrtle had turned red and confessed that she had seen a bad car wreck once when she was a girl. No... Driving was not for her, thank you very much. For a while there Lucius had hopes that he could get her over her fears and get her to learn how easy it really was. But, when she sat behind the wheel she became ill enough to vomit. Finally, Lucius admitted defeat, something he always hated to do.

He had driven Myrtle everywhere since.

Not much to it, really; the A&P, Dr. Bond's from time to time, church on Sundays and Wednesdays, which he always went to as well. It was just part of their routine; one born of years worth of mutual need and neighborly caring; besides, the woman insisted on cooking practically all of Lucius' meals for which he was supremely grateful. Just the thought of her cooking made it easy to get up in the afternoons after sleeping like a corpse from the exhaustion of the third shift. To complain about driving Myrtle would be rude and thoughtless. Lucius' momma had taught him better.

When they had finished eating, washed dishes and put up the rest of the food, they came back to the porch to smoke with fresh glasses of tea. Lucius lit his Piedmont and leaned back in his seat. "Ah..."

Myrtle coughed on the first drag of her Chesterfield, then settled back her self; her hands gripped the chair tightly; Lucius could see the whites of her knuckles. Nobody said a word for a bit. They sat contented, listening to the night around them: the laughter of a child off in the distance, and every TV in every little house, from which they could hear a little of all three networks chattering softly and drifting along with the light, cool breeze that was so comfortable that they nearly forgot themselves. Finally, Myrtle broke silence by starting up on a much-discussed subject.

"Y'all gettin' any over-time these days, Lucius?"

"Not much Not latelyno how."

"I was talkin with Gunther Cobb last week at Church. He said the Textile business is about to go broke."

"Lotta talk like that goin round lately," Lucius said matter-of-factly.

"Gunther said they just laid off a whole bunch of folks over in Ranlo."

"Yeah, a few of em asked if I thought they could get on up here with us. I didn't know what to tell them except to come to the personnel office."

"You fearin' all this, Lucius?"

He shrugged and smoked.

"I don't know for sure, Myrtle. Talk's talk. Boss Dewberry

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