Hoot Owl Holler

FICTION Hoot Owl Holler Scott Loring Sanders Td been in a rush to get to the post office before six. If Andy sent the check, Td be able to cash it before the bank closed. The bank in Clinchco ain't far from the post office, so I knew Td be able to make it. I parked the Neon in front and jumped out. The post office sits back fromthe road on a littlehill. It's nothingmore than a trailer, striped in red-white-and-blue paint. Looks like a fireworks stand I seenin South Carolina on our way to Myrtle once. More like that than a post office, I reckon. "Jenny," I said, "Mama'll be right back." My daughter sat in the back seat, playing with her stuffed rabbit. She looked up at me and nodded but didn't say nothing. She hardly ever does. Doctors say she's slow, but I know there's more going on up there than they give her credit for. I seen it in her eyes lots of times. I closed the car door, thenbumped itwith myhip to get it to shut all the way. A dern deer ran into me a few months back and dented the door all up. I ain't got no money to take it to the body shop, so I just have to make do for now. It needs all sorts of work done. The tires is nearly showing steel. My brother Augie come over the other day and said he'd do a full tune up on her ifTd buy the plugs and wires, but Tm broke. IfAndy'd send that money like the court ordered him to do, Td get it fixed, plus take care of a lot of other things. Jenny's state money don't go very far each month. I flicked my cigarette into the dusting of the parking lot. It sizzled when I stomped it in the snow. It had only been coming down for a little while, and I hadn'theard what theywas calling for, but the clouds was gray, and itwas getting darkfast. I zippedup myjacket and stuffed my hands in my pockets. It's a greatjacket. Black leather—it ain't real leather, but it looks pretty close—and it says Dodge on the back in red letters, with the symbol underneath the name all raised up so you can feel it. Dreama, my best friend, she's got a Marlboro jacket, and everyone's always commenting on it. I got a kicking Dodgejacket and there ain't nobody ever saying nothing about it. I opened the door of the post office and walked inside. The counter was already closed up, blocked offwith one of them sliding metal walls that comes down, but I just needed to check my box. The clock on the 45 wall said ten of, so I had time. I walked around toward the back, used the key, and opened the door to my box. I grabbed sales flyers, the power bill, and two more letters from Social Services, them wanting to interfere with me and Jenny again. Td already told them I didn't want no more tests done on her. Makes her miserable having to go through all that. Them asking her questions she don't know the answers to. Shoot, I have enough trouble getting her to talk to me. She sure ain't going to say nothing to them doctors. I once talked to Mama about Jenny, and how tough it was. I only had the one, and didn't see how she'd managed raising all us younguns up. She said a hen scratches just as hard for one chick as she do for twelve. IreckonMamawas right. I don't know why I felt surprised that there weren't no check. Same as every other week. I knew Andy had a job. He had to as part of his plea agreement. He made decent money with the Crawford mine, but I knew where the money was going: straight up his nose. I remember when coke and crystal were all the rage, and I ain't gonna lie, I...