Nobody

Anger

"That's a bad sunburn, Mister English," She said.

I sagged slightly in relief.

She started spreading the silvadene across my back and I sighed as it started pulling the burning feeling out of my skin. She was humming to herself as she worked and I tried to ignore the slightly guilty pangs I was getting for letting another woman see me without a shirt, much less touch me.

get over yourself. you're on the wrong side of forty, she's like late twenties, you dirty old man

"You get that tattoo in the Army?" She asked me, rubbing the silverish-white cream on my shoulders.

"Yeah," I said softly.

"That 'yeah' reminds me of Uncle Pete when people ask him about Vietnam," She mused. "That where you got those scars, or you get those from cow punching down in Texas?"

"Little from column A, little from column B," I told her. I told myself her fingers weren't lingering.

"My name's Lily-Rylee," she said, "Most folks just call me Rennie."

"Samuel English," I answered automatically.

"That's what Uncle Pete told me," She said. "Lean forward."

I leaned forward and she started smearing the thick cream on my middle back.

"You got heat-stroke, huh?" She asked me. "You drunk?"

I shook my head. "No. Didn't think it was that hot. It's dry heat down in Texas, not so much here."

She laughed at that. "Wait till winter when Blue Creek's covered in snow," she sighed. "I love the snow. You like the snow, Sam? Bet in Texas you didn't see much of it."

"Was stationed in Germany, saw a lot of it," I told her. I chuckled. "Texas, though, half inch of snow and they're ready to call out the National Guard and declare a state of emergency."

"I'll bet," She laughed, her hands moving lower as she smeared on the cream. "Repent, repent, the End is near! as Mary-Beth would say."

That made me laugh with her.

"There, all done," she said, stepping back. "Don't want to bandage it, so you might as well leave your shirt off."

I flushed at that and she giggled.

"Sorry, been a while since anyone but my wife has seen me without..." my voice trailed off.

Pru is dead.

Her hand touched my shoulder. "Uncle Pete told me. I'm sorry, Sam."

I nodded, moving forward, her fingertips sliding off my shoulder. I opened the fridge and stared. Energy drinks and that was about it to drink.

"None of those," Lily said from behind me. She shook the bag. "I thought you might not have anything to drink, so I brought some pre-sweetened Kool-Aid packets. Doc Rutheford said no pop or energy drinks or beer for you for a week."

I nodded.

"Your right leg's shaking. You all right, Sam?" She asked, reaching for me.

My knee gave out, my muscles deciding that they were done with me, and she grabbed my arm, holding me up.

"All right, bull rider, let's get you on the couch," she said. "Uncle Pete said you were damn near dead when he found you."

I nodded, going to lean back on the couch and remembering at the last second to stay forward so I didn't smear silvadene all over the couch cushions.