Spoilers: Nope. Safe.
Disclaimer: It’s Kripke’s world, we’re all just living in it. *snaps fingers, points*
Summary: There ain’t no changin’ between.
A/N: Inspired by found_fic_spn</lj> challenge #37. Beta’d by the infuriatingly incorrigible and incessantly encouraging kimonkey7</lj> . I wish coffee for you. Lots and lots of coffee. Peeked at by chocca2</lj> , who apparently still likes me, nonetheless. She’s real nice like that.
~Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Year ago, this here park bench be the kind had slats on it. They was wood, had a little give when you sit. Now’days they got some artiste, ask him t’ make some wrought-iron tangle, like sittin’ on a knot ‘a somethin’. Look like a beetle got his legs broke, you ask me.
Don’t stop me none. I sit when I gots to. Stand when I can. Still here most days. Man gets my age, seen the things I seen? The kids does you good, come watch ‘em run. They like fillies and colts, ‘fore they known any hard hands.
Don’t see ‘em much no more. Ones like her. That might be good, might be bad. Done wonderin’ ‘bout that. Yeah. That ain’t nobody business but His. Ol’ fool like me, oughta know better ‘n to mess with folks, but somethin’ in me still won’t let ‘em pass.
I gots to tell ‘em. Try, anyways.
Used to make it quiet-like. Gramma always said folk don’t need that sorta thing loud, but it don’t really make no difference. See, you got people won’t listen, and folks can’t hear, and there a world of hope for one and none for th’ other, and there ain’t no changin’ between.
Generally, my experience.
The three ‘a them, they come down that path, they look pretty as a picture. And it don’t bring me no joy, what I got to say. ‘Cause they look like that lil’ girl, she holdin’ everythin’ in her. She holdin’ all ‘a them and she don’t even know it. The three ‘a them got that look like she gonna solve somethin’. And hell, maybe they right. ‘Cause she young. She got time. Any fool see that.
He tell me to take my filthy hand offa him, that first time. Her momma shrink back like I got whiskey on my breath, but I ain’t touch none ‘a that stuff these days. Her daddy, he pull that little girl behind his leg like I’ma interfere with her or somethin’. Like that why I stop ‘em in broad daylight, park full a’ folk. Say he gonna call th’ author’ties, and there’s a time I woulda been inclined to call that man a dumb sonuvabitch, but that ain’t doin’ no good, so…
Ain’t my filthy hands he got to worry ‘bout is what I settle on, and he get his back up nice, and he got some hackles on him, that dog. But he ain’t havin’ no fightin’ ‘round his girls, so they go on. I watch ‘em some, an’ yeah, I used t’ make it quiet-like, but some folks got potatoes in they ears, need the barn door blown off.
But they still not listenin’. Don’t wanna know ‘bout nothin’ I got t’ say.
He lift her up in his arms as they go, like that gonna make some difference. And she lookin’ at me over his shoulder, and sweet Lord, she like a lil’ angel. You look at that kid, you never know. But that’s the way a’ things sometime.
I ain’t expectin’ her, but she come back the next mornin’. Got a pretty lace nightdress on, and she ain’t got no shoes. She pick her way down that path and I can just tell she ain’t supposed to be out like that. She come down from the house all her lonesome. Walkin’ tight and light, like nobody see her if she do it jus’ so. Holds her hands like that, like she on strings. Like she really jus’ a puppet.
She don’t say nothin’, but she stop and give me a good long stare. I seen it then. She already know. Yeah. She seen.
She musta give him a mighty fright, ‘cause he shoutin’ all the way from the road. An’ his hands, they rough ‘round her skinny lil’ arms. He give her a shake, an’ her mouth pop open, like she want him to see somethin’ in there. But he won’t see. He too busy looking at her, like he finally got it figured out he can’t do nothin’ but fail her.
She look at me again, while he draggin’ her away. And I got no face to give her but the one I got on. Jus’ the way of things.
They good folk, no doubt. Nobody sayin’ they ain’t. Can tell right from the outset, real cryin’ shame. Her daddy done the best he can. He get her a nice start. Nice house. An’ you can jus’ about tell she got the best ‘a things. Toys don’t break, you drop ‘em the first time. Yessir. He buy her whatever she want. But it don’t make no difference. Not the house or that lily-white slip she got on. Give her that good Catholic name he been hollerin’ down the path jus’ now.
It don’t make no difference. Time come, she burn jus’ the same.