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Barbed Wire

Barbed Wire _______________ Brian Hyer A woman acts a certain way when she’s in love. I know, because I remember how Joan took to me before we married. Now I see it again, only this time it ain’t my doing, because in the morning when I go to kiss her and she pulls away from me, I know there’s something bad smothering us, bad like the morning fog that clouds a perfectly good view of Balsam Mountain. “Let’s go out to eat tonight,” I say. I follow Joan into the kitchen and reach out my hand to touch her shoulder. “We can’t afford to,” she says, and bends away so my hand can’t reach her. “Not when we’ve got food in the refrigerator.” I tell her we’ve been eating store-bought food going on two weeks, but she don’t budge. “Maybe this weekend,” she says. “Besides, I’ll be late getting home tonight.” “Why?” I ask, as if I hadn’t seen her and Bobby Harmon talking every time I walk into Bi-Lo. Like I hadn’t seen them drive o ff together at lunchtime. “I already told you,” she says. “Bobby’s making us work overtime. It’s only an hour or two.” I try not http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081

Abstract

_______________ Brian Hyer A woman acts a certain way when she’s in love. I know, because I remember how Joan took to me before we married. Now I see it again, only this time it ain’t my doing, because in the morning when I go to kiss her and she pulls away from me, I know there’s something bad smothering us, bad like the morning fog that clouds a perfectly good view of Balsam Mountain. “Let’s go out to eat tonight,” I say. I follow Joan into the kitchen and reach out my hand to touch her shoulder. “We can’t afford to,” she says, and bends away so my hand can’t reach her. “Not when we’ve got food in the refrigerator.” I tell her we’ve been eating store-bought food going on two weeks, but she don’t budge. “Maybe this weekend,” she says. “Besides, I’ll be late getting home tonight.” “Why?” I ask, as if I hadn’t seen her and Bobby Harmon talking every time I walk into Bi-Lo. Like I hadn’t seen them drive o ff together at lunchtime. “I already told you,” she says. “Bobby’s making us work overtime. It’s only an hour or two.” I try not

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jul 18, 2012

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