Crazy People: The Crazy for You Stories Read online



  That’s what I told Darla this morning after church when she stopped by to see if I was all right and I showed her this letter. And she said, “Damn right,” even though she was a little upset that I’m drinking so much and writing you at all. But she said if I have to write you like this to put in that she called Lorena Bobbitt and sent her plane fare to Mackinac so you better brace yourself. She also says to tell you that she sent Lorena a magnifying glass to help her work once she finds you, but that’s just Darla for you. She also says that I should write “Ronnie Luterbein, I hope the world screws you good because I sure as hell never will again,” but I don’t know about that. She also said some other stuff, but then Darrin Mueller came over to mow the grass before football practice even though you just mowed it last week before you left, but I said, “That’s sweet, Darrin,” because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And he said, “Glad to do it for you, Debbie,” and Darla sort of snorted but he didn’t hear.

  And then Darrin went out to get the mower, and Darla said, “That man is after your butt, which normally I would be against but considering the sorry mess your life is in, I might be for it after all.” And I said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Darla, he’s just being nice,” but then Darrin came out with the mower, and he took his Tibbett High School Football Coach shirt off, and Darla said, “Well, he is something to look at, isn’t he?” And then Darrin sort of flexed his muscles pulling on the mower cord, and Darla said, “Merciful heavens, Debbie, this is all for you, although why he doesn’t just take it out and wave it around is beyond me. It’d be a lot quicker.”

  Then Mama drove up with a tuna surprise casserole, the kind she keeps telling me that if I’d been making them for you regular would have kept you home where you belonged, and she said, “Deborah Jo, what is that naked man doing in your front yard?” And Darla said, “Warming up, Mama, warming up.” Then she told Mama that potato chips on a casserole were unhealthy because of the high fat content, and Mama said without the potato chips there wouldn’t be any surprise, and Darla said potato chips on a casserole hadn’t been a surprise since 1952, and Mama got so het up, she left. I do love Darla. And then we both got beers and stood at the window and watched Darrin mow the grass. There’s something very attractive about a man mowing grass, Ronnie. I must say that. And Darla said, “Debbie Jo, it’s time to forget that worthless skunk you married and move on,” and I said, “Darla Jean, I am thinking about it.” But I really wasn’t because I am married to you, Ronnie. Even if you are on vacation with a flat-chested bank teller, I am still married to you. But I did feed Darrin that casserole later, and he did remark on the potato chip topping so I guess Mama was right again. She does have a way of being right, damn it all anyway.

  And then Darrin left, and about an hour ago Max called and said, “Debbie, Darla told me Darrin Mueller was over there trying to mow more than your grass, and I want you to know that you’ve got a brother over here so you don’t need that unless you want it. You need help, you call me.” And I said thank you and hung up and sat down and started to think. You know, Mama always liked you better than Max, but now here we are and look at us. Darla never had to get married, and Darla sure as hell isn’t sitting home right now with a beer in her hand wondering what Max is doing in another state, and you sure as hell would never have called her and told her you’d take care of her if she was. And I thought about their marriage, like how when Max gets out of hand, Darla tells him that if he doesn’t shape up, Mama will find out and they’ll never inherit her Hummels, and then Max tells her something awful he’s going to have to do to Mama because he hates those Hummels, and then they laugh. And I thought about how long it had been since we laughed like that, and I truly did wonder how they managed it, to still be laughing about those Hummels after twenty-eight years because to tell you the truth, that whole dumb Hummel joke stopped being funny to me a long time ago, but they still think it’s a stitch. And I’m thinking that maybe it’s not the joke, that maybe they just like making it together, and you know, we haven’t been making anything together, Ronnie, not for the longest time, and I think that’s sad when I’m not thinking about what a rat bastard you are. I mean, I’m really happy for Darla, but I’m really jealous, too. So I called Darla and told her that, and she said, “Hell, Debbie, Max isn’t perfect, the other day he brought home a damn motorcycle, can you believe it?” and I said, “Well, it could have been a lot worse, he could have brought home a damn bank teller,” and she said, “I hope Ronnie dies,” and I hung up and had another beer.

  So now I am going to have one more beer and then go to bed because I have a full day tomorrow making the women of Tibbet feel good about themselves, and then I have to fix Darrin dinner because he’s going to take care of that leaky faucet in the downstairs bathroom after practice. I’m making green beans with mushroom soup and stuffed pork chops, which I suppose is the least I can do for him since he says he loves home cooking and he isn’t getting any. So I’m giving him home cooking, but he isn’t getting anything else because I am still your wife, even if you don’t deserve somebody as good as me.

  Your wife who you don’t deserve,

  Debbie Luterbein

  PPPS. I got your letter yesterday, Ronnie. It was thoughtful of you to say you hoped I was doing fine, and that you hoped I’d understand that you just couldn’t face all the hoo-rah when everybody found out, especially Mama and Darla. I have to admit, I did get a little put out because I am the one stuck dealing with the hoo-rah, and I really did not need to know that you loved Barbara so much you just couldn’t help yourself, and I also could have done without the “PS” from Barbara saying she hoped we could still be friends. That woman must be dumb as a box of rocks if she thinks we can be friends, and where she got the “still” part I will never know because I have never been friends with anyone who wears that color of eye shadow that Darla has taken to calling “Bank Slut Blue” because a woman who’ll wear a color like that has no taste at all. Women who wear eye shadow like that look like they do it for nickels, that’s all there is to it.

  Since you asked, Ronnie Jr. is doing fine at the alley, and Becky seems to be doing pretty good, too. She sent me some books yesterday, How To Love a Difficult Man, The Angry Marriage: Overcoming the Rage and Reclaiming the Love, Ten Stupid Things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives, and Sex for One. I’m sure she meant well. I am also doing pretty good, although I would be a lot better if Mama would get off my case. She called yesterday and said she just wanted to remind me about how a woman needed to be married to be secure, and that you were a good provider and the father of my children, and that you and I had been together for twenty-six years, and we’d be together another twenty-six if I played my cards right. She also said I should remember that I was still married no matter if Darrin Mueller was hoping otherwise. I told that to Darla, and she said, “You should have told her that at least Ronnie stuck it out for twenty-six years; Daddy left her after only nineteen, hot dinners and all,” and I said, “Darla, what are you talking about? Daddy didn’t leave Mama, he died,” and she said, “Debbie, death is the only way any of us are ever going to get away from Mama.” And I said, “Well, maybe now that I’ve gone and lost my husband, Mama will stop speaking to me from the shame.” And Darla said, “If that happens, you let me know, because Max will be history.” And I laughed. First time I’d really laughed in ten days, but I laughed at that. And then she said, “You make sure that Ronnie gets custody of Mama in the divorce settlement, and he can have the Hummels, too,” and I laughed again.

  But I guess it was sort of sweet of you to ask if I am okay, and I am. Darrin Mueller’s been taking real good care of me, and I’ve gotten a whole lot done, Ronnie. Like yesterday morning, after I got your letter, I took all your boxes of clothes out to put them in the garage so you could pick them up easier and I wouldn’t have to look at you when you did, but while I was stacking them beside the garage, this woman pulled up in a Bonneville and she said, “You having a garage sale?” And Ronnie, I looked that