The Green Mile and The Reporter

The Flicks

The sun was just setting and dusty shadows, crowded together on the country lane, as I shuffled along. My main thoughts swirled around John Coffey and his absent, sad eyes. Percy's voice echoing in my head. Dead man walking!

Del's yelp of pain when Percy smashed three fingers on his left hand. Most of all I thought of Harry telling me what John had down to the nine year old Detterick twins.

"And the mighty reporter returns!"

I jerked and looked up to find my brother grinning at me. Our old rickety fence separated the road from our small crop field and it groaned as Joey climbed over it to wrap an arm around my shoulders. "How was your first day, hotshot?"

I shook my head with a tired smile. "Wait until you hear about their newest inmate."

As we made our way to our rickety front porch, I filled in my older brother on the events of the day. When I finished he paused, hand on the screen door's handle. "Argy, I don't like this. A man that large could snap you like a twig with his little finger. Not to mention this Percy fellow, he seems worse than the inmates so far."

I ruffled his curly, red hair, almost like I was the older, wiser sibling. "Aw, is little Jojo worried about his little sissy?"

He gave me a light shove. "Quit that, I'm serious. It's concerning. I love you, we love you, and we all need you more than you like to think."

I couldn't but scoff at that. "Don't patronize me, Joey. We both know that all I bring this family is stress and headaches."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "Like you wouldn't believe, amen to that." He sobered. "All the same, be careful."

I pretended to think for a second. "I will, under one condition." Joey groaned. "Don't tell mama anything about John Coffey or Percy."

"Deal, now lets get in the house before mama calls central." Joey opened the door and ushered me through it.

I grinned and stepped through to see mama step out of the kitchen. She was a small thin woman, with a tired face and kind eyes. Her hands were red from lye soap as she reached for me. "There's my young woman."

I wrapped my arms around her small waist and buried my face into her sweet smelling red hair. Papa always complained that us kinda didn't look a lick like him. Our little sister Emma, Joey, and I had all inherited our mothers brilliant red hair. Sometimes when he had a few beers to loosen his tongue, he'd make raunchy jokes about how mama cheated on him with Uncle Sam. We'd laugh and mama would scold, but I knew she secretly thought they were funny.

Tonight she held me at arms length, and looked me up and down. Checking to make sure nothing terrible had gotten me during the day, but also judging my clothes. She clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Argonne Flick, how are you ever gonna attract a fine husband if all you wear is Joey's old overalls."

I groaned. "Mama please, not tonight."

"But those Sunday dresses are more suitable for this kind of weather, not to mention how much nicer and more professional they'd look."

If your profession is getting catcalled. I thought, but said. "No thank you, I'll stick with overalls."

She let me go and went back into the kitchen, frowning. "Joey, go get your father and Emma from the barn. I almost got dinner on the table. Argonne give me a hand."

As I helped her set down the plates, she asked "While we're in the subject of husbands-"

"Mama!"

"-any fine men down at the..." I could see it in her face she didn't want to say prison. "Institution?"

"Am I to marry a convict know? Perhaps one heading over to Old Sparky?" I asked, throwing a spoon down a bit harder than necessary. Mama flinched and bit her lip.

Papa walked in just then, trailed by Joey and six year old Emma. "Don't sass your mother, Argonne."

Mama straightened and smoothed her apron, irritably. "What I meant was, are there any guards? Any fine guards?"

Papa nodded as he scrubbed his hands at the sink. "I hear they make good wages."

I shrugged. "Couldn't say. I was focusing on work."

Emma wrapped her little arms around my waist, and smiled up at me. "Joey says that works all you ever think about."

I smoothed her hair, feeling myself beam as if she was my child instead of my mama's. "It helps keep bread on the table."

My father took his seat at the head of the table and we all followed suite. After we said grace he fixed with a hard look. "The farm does just fine as is. There was no need for you to take that job, I'm starting to think it was a bad idea. Especially now that they've sent you down to Cold Mountain, a prison is no place for a young lady."

"Helps pay the bills. Besides, I can take care of myself. Just like you taught me to." I spooned a generous helping of mashed potatoes onto my plate.

My father sighed. "Well, God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this job will make you rethink this world. Your naivety has no place in this world."

"I am not naive." Frustration boiling over for a moment.

Mama ignored me and addressed my father. "Perhaps this is fate."

I resisted the urge to swear at my mothers silly version of fate. "God gave us free will, remember?"

Joey swallowed a bite of roll, nervously. Anxious to redirect the conversation, he asked. "Do you think you'll get to see any of the executions?"

Before I could respond mama gasped. "Good heavens! I hope not. That is something no one should have to see. Especially not a lady."

I pushed some food around my plate, feeling angry heat blossom in my abdomen. "I'm not sure. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes."

I felt myself relax a bit as Papa began talking about maybe getting a third cow  with the extra money from the paper.

Crazed thoughts from the day continued to swirl through my brain as I curled up in bed that night. Is this job too much?