Eustis, We Have a Problem

by Charles C. Cole

Eustis Belknap, rural farmer in his mid-thirties and novice husband not long out of his honeymoon period, sat in his truck in his driveway, sipping a can of Ken Beer and staring at the Kennetook River flowing just the other side of Old Route 25, maybe a stone’s throw distance for a professional football player.

From their cozy home, Mrs. Belknap, “Bunny” to her friends, stood just inside the front door watching her new spouse process his disappointment and feeling like this would be a good time for the community cavalry to rescue her marriage. That’s when resident lay minister and relationship counselor, Swain Clatchee, pulled up in his black Ford Ranger. Desperate for a quick resolution, Bunny had sent for Swain, and he had answered her prayers.

Swain pulled close to the garage, jumped down from his truck, six-pack in hand, and stepped over to the larger Tacoma. He knocked on the passenger window. Eustis nodded in response.

“Bunny called?” said Eustis.

“She was worried. Said you were upset. She didn’t give any details.” Swain popped his brew and admired the local sights out the windshield. “Quite the view,” said Swain.

“Especially when it floods,” said Eustis sarcastically, “when you can launch a kayak from the front yard.”

“Remember our senior class weekend? Floating down together like it was a metaphor for life.”

Eustis finished his beer, crushed the can and pushed it through the little slider to join its many brethren in his truck bed. “I didn’t know anything about life back then. My parents made all my important decisions. Women were a mystery. Who am I kidding? They’re still a mystery, and now I’m married to one.”

“Too bad we can’t marry dogs,” said Swain.

Eustis gave him a quick shocked face, and they both burst out laughing.

“Pass me a beer,” said Eustis; “I’m all out of ammo.” Swain did as requested. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife, more than I loved my dogs, but probably not more than Mama. That woman was an angel. Which is saying something, because as a teen, I was a devil.”

“I heard once,” said Swain, “that all cats start life a little feral before they get domesticated. I figure boys are like that.”

“Swain,” responded Eustis, “can I tell you something personal, in confidence?”

“Of course.”

“I like sex. I do. I haven’t had much of it. I didn’t know it at the time but I guess, short of a couple practice rounds, I was saving myself for marriage. So, when Bunny and I tied the knot this summer, I thought ‘the sky’s the limit.’ I thought every night we’d go to bed sweaty and maybe, in the morning, I’d be late to work now and again, ’cause we just couldn’t keep our hands off each other. But the truth is: it’s more like network television, when your favorite show is only on Thursdays at ten.”

“But you like almost every episode?”

“Are you kidding? Love every episode! The intensity. Feeling emotions I never thought I’d have. Can’t wait for reruns. Looking forward to the time I can binge-watch.”

“So, let’s look at that. You started it, remember. My cousin’s dating a sound guy who works on a TV sitcom. I don’t think we get it around here. No matter, he says it takes up to seven days to make a 30-minute show and up to twelve days to make an hour show.”

“That’s crazy!” said Eustis.

“But you like the results?”

“Let’s put it this way,” Eustis admitted, “I know in my heart that I don’t have to wait until I die to experience heaven. And I mean that. Don’t laugh.”

Self-consciously, Swain crunched his empty beer can and pushed it through the open slider. He then immediately popped another. Talking always came easier when he had something in his hands. “I’ve only been married a couple of years more than you; I can relate. Though in my case, Althea knows God’s first and she’s a close second.”

Eustis belched loudly and regretted it. “Sorry.”

“Not quite domesticated, eh?” joked Swain.

“Bunny calls me her wild man. She loves it when I drive the tractor or split wood. She says it gives her goosebumps, but not the scary kind.” Swain looked over Eustis’s shoulder at an axe stuck in the splitting block. Firewood was spilled all about. Eustis smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ve been splitting. Not gonna split itself. I stopped for lunch, and that’s when things went downhill fast.”

“A wonder you had the energy,” said Swain, clearly impressed.

“I didn’t,” admitted Eustis, “but she did, and that was the problem.”

Swain smiled like a comforting big brother when his sibling has an unexpected life-changing moment.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” said Eustis. “But I felt pressured, and I didn’t react well. I made it her fault. I didn’t mean to. I mean, what woman could resist this big hunk of sweaty man?”

Swain sighed at another one of life’s little surprises. “How do you feel now?” asked Swain.

“Rested,” said Eustis, a little surprised and a little proud.

“I guess I should be going. Good talk,” said Swain. “Don’t want to distract you when you got husbandly chores to attend to.”

“The splitting can wait till tomorrow,” said Eustis.

“Pace yourself,” said Swain and opened the truck door to get back into his own vehicle. But he couldn’t resist one last punchline, “Glad I could help one of my oldest friends in his time of need. You two take care.” Then Swain left and Eustis stepped inside the house to his waiting bride.