broken claims

Part 8

"You ought'a be checking in with that woman of yours," said Merle with snideness from where he was sitting on a tattered looking lawn chair outside the trailer, cigarette dangling from his fingers.It trailed smoke up into the cold twilight.

"She ain't my woman," Daryl fired back, cross. He shut the door behind him and leaned against the flaking wood. Merle never called Sharley by her name. Usually it was always 'his woman' or some variation of a slur of insults. The wintery air cut into his bones and he felt tired; a long week finishing itself up after keeping Leigh home from sick from a stomach bug, whittling away Tuesday itself with the pair of them on the couch watching television. He would've happily kept her home Wednesday and Thursday but she protested, stoically jamming her feet into snow boots and getting her bag together. "What's got your fired up?"

Merle's moodiness hadn't dissipated during his time away. He had come back upset about something, shuffling stuff around the trailer in silent chaos, knocking back beers like they were just water and nothing else.

His brother stayed silent for a moment, eyes considering him. "Took a minute to call Bernie down at the station. You remember Bernie, yeah? Piece of shit boy dressed up in blue? Barely tall enough to look over the steering wheel, the dirty prick."

"I know Bernie."

"Well, Bernie served his tax dollars for the first time in his professional career," Merle blew smoke at him, ire a bed of red hot coals. "Apparently that lady is keeping favour with men who gotta taste for young meat."

Leigh was inside doing homework. She was always doing homework. Wherever the gene for academic came from, it had skipped both Daryl and Merle. She would stare at her assignments until late in the night, practically seeing double from it. Daryl was always the one to pry the pencil from her hand, pushing her off to bed. Her grandparents only encouraged that attitude, casually brushing her off with a 'why haven't you achieved better yet?'. His daughter was desperate to make everyone happy. Daryl just knew she was rarely happy beneath the same effort.

He knew she was sitting in her usual chair with her legs folded up beneath her scratching away at some long winded answer that only made sense to her and her teacher, but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, hand locking on the door knob with the urge to fling it open and check that she was exactly where he last left her.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talkin' about Clark, you idiot. Sharley's new man of the crooked hour."

They didn't talk much about the things that went on at her grandparents. Daryl knew it was tedious; a long evening of pretending to be a china doll, sometimes with Sharley in attendances but usually without. Stella and Richard liked to pretend it was the only meal Leigh got in a week. "What's Clark's problem?" Daryl asked, quiet. He could feel paint flaking off beneath his fingertips, the frost settling into the ground. Verna's trailer was across the narrow yard and a tree grew up in the yard, dead branches shivering beneath the coming night sky. He'd have to shovel the walk for her if the snow came down again.

"Clark's last lady friend had a pair of 'em little girls. No official charges, but..." Merle trailed off, teeth showing as he turned his mouth up into something almost like a smile if not for the bitterness. "You know how that shit slides off when somebody's looking real clean."

Dread clamped down around his heart. Daryl played the game the best he could with no advantages. He kept Leigh away from Sharley unless he was the one hovering nearby or her grandparents were in the same room. But she caused destruction. Sharley was gasoline and a lit match, and the world was a casualty for existing in her proximity. "What's he been doing with Leigh?"