Robyn Carr Quote

What’s going to happen to Wes? She lifted her eyes steadily to her brother’s, but she didn’t answer at once. I don’t know. He’s admitted himself into a drug treatment program. Why? Bud asked. Again she paused. For drug treatment. It’s not unusual for some of those traders to get hooked on... You know... Uppers? It was stated as a question. And Preacher thought, it was meth. It wasn’t a little bitty innocent drug. And you couldn’t do anything about that? Like what, Bud? she returned. I don’t know. Like help him with that. I mean, what did you have to do? Paige put down her fork and glared into her brother’s eyes. No, Bud. I couldn’t help with that. It was completely beyond my control. Bud tilted his eyes toward his lettuce, stabbed a piece with his fork and muttered, Maybe you could’ve kept your stupid mouth shut. Preacher’s fork went down sharply. And Preacher, who rarely used profanity and only in the most heated moments, said, You’re fucking kidding me, right? Bud’s eyes snapped up to Preacher’s face. His jaw ground and he scowled. She tell you she had six thousand square feet and a pool? Preacher glanced at Paige, Paige glanced at Preacher and then swiveled her eyes slowly to Bud. She spoke to Preacher while she looked at Bud and said, My brother doesn’t understand. The size of the house you live in has nothing to do with anything. The hell, Bud said. I’m just saying, there are times to keep your mouth shut, that’s all I’m saying. You had it fucking made. It took every red blood cell in Preacher’s body to stay in his chair. He wanted to shout, He beat her up in the street in front of me! He killed their baby with his foot! He was squeezing and releasing his fork with such tension, he was unaware he was bending it. It wasn’t his right to speak out; he was a guest. He didn’t see himself as Bud’s guest, he was Paige’s guest. He got a sick feeling in his stomach at the thought he could’ve dropped her here for a visit, alone. He felt his blood pressure going up; his temples were pulsing. Bud, he was abusive. Jesus Christ, you had a few problems. The guy was loaded, for Christ’s sake! Preacher thought he might explode, his heated blood was expanding so fast. He could hear his own heartbeat. And he felt a small, light hand on top of his coiled fist. He raised his eyes and met the dull, nervous stare of Paige’s mother, pleadingly looking at him from across the table. Bud doesn’t mean exactly that, she said. It’s just that we’ve never had a divorce in the family. I raised the kids to understand, you have to try to get beyond the problems. Everyone has problems, Gin said, nodding. Those same eyes. Begging. Preacher didn’t think he could do it. Sit through it. He was pretty sure he’d never get to the steak without shoving Bud up against the wall and challenging him to keep his mouth shut through something like his fists. The struggle was, that was like Wes. Get mad, take it to the mat. Beat the living shit out of someone. Someone you could beat into submission real easy. They weren’t problems, Paige said insistently. He was violent. Aw, Jesus Christ, Bud said, lifting his beer. A