Hawley's Leaving Town

When we all got news that Hawley was headed back home to Reno, none of us knew what to think. The strongest link in our chainmail, in our holy divine armor, was about to come undone. We had spent countless weeks forging those chains, building what we had come to enjoy for the past couple months, weeks, years? Time has felt odd while in this settlement. One can’t be quite too sure what day it is, what year, what month, what season. It doesn’t help that the weather is perfect with a high of 75 each and every fucking day. Blending the mondays into tuesdays and the tuesdays into wednesdays and so on and so on; so that there is just one blanket of continual day and night that spans for such a time that beards crop out and babies begin primary school. So that relatives pass and that no one can be sure if the ham in the fridge has gone bad.

But yea, Hawley’s leaving town. It’s sparked a certain hysteria amongst the group. We’ve all got this trepidation beginning to rear up in our bellies, forcing its way out of our mouths. Straining against all odds to come clean about our shit stained undies and the boogers plastered against our bed-side walls. Tempting us to turn to the guy to our left or right and come clean about the demons. Where's the swine when you need them? Where's the prophet when everything feels so far from God? Deep down we want to belch it out, let it free. Brave the consequences of what it means that Hawley’s leaving town. Brave it like men who aren’t afraid of bulls, war, or feelings. Men who think that they can change their station in life but know that they are bound to follow in the ways of their fathers, right down to the plot of land next to where they lie at rest. We’re kicking at ourselves to be honest. To tell it how it is.

No one does anything of that sort. We just stand around in a sloppy semi-circle in the parking lot of a bar, shuffling our feet back-and-forth-side-to-side, scraping the loose gravel from one foot to the other. Heads are down or staring at passerbyers. No one has the heart to look each other in the eyes. No one wants to accept this reality as real. There’s a quiet murmur stirring in each one of our hearts. We all separately know the truth; know what it means; know what will happen the second Hawley is outside the county borders, breaking the spell cast many moons ago.

It will start small. A spark. And it will catch. One after another, after another. Once Hawley heads out, Jake will get the idea to visit home. When he’s gone, Paul won’t be too far behind, for he can’t stand Jerry. Being trapped in that shack with him will cause ‘em both to go stir crazy. If Paul goes, that means Jerry will start hanging around Carlyle and the two of them will undoubtedly get themselves into trouble with the law. Jack has been talking about going out to volunteer firefight up in Big Sur; he’s likely to go after Hawley leaves. Right there, that’s more than half the gang. 

By that time, it’d be like a small house fire had kicked up. It’ll start in one of the bedrooms with a small 99¢ candle, will meander down the hall to the other bedrooms, make its way into the bathroom, gaining speed once it hits the shower curtains. Those things are like a tinderbox just waiting to go. After the bathroom, the flames’ll head on into the kitchen, engulfing the sink and fridge and pantry. There go the cracker jacks and cans of chili. By the time the living room caught fire, it’d be a full on conflagration. Nothing would be left. Everything gone. No one would be left. Everyone gone. And I’ll be sitting there, talking to the birds saying, “You know, I heard Hawley’s leaving town,” trying to pretend all this shit never happened.