Ordinary Handsome

If you live in a city with 20 thousand cameras, it’s hard to make a good impression. But if you’re in a town where the main event is the Pork ‘n Beans Potluck at the VFW, you might have a shot.

“So this is where you started, huh?” said Saul. “In the land of fifty-thousand pubic hairs, all of them on the livestock. I’m inspired beyond words.”

“Had to start somewhere.”

“Yeah, Picasso. So where are the women?”

“Hiding, probably. They heard you flying in.”

“Uh huh. So you got, what, militia mosquitoes and hay fields and bumping cousins on Saturday nights.”

“I had to follow Mom. You know that. Like I had a say in things. It wasn’t so bad. I guess. It’s very…”

“Fill in the blank. Very something.”

“Rural. It was home for a couple of years. Different. Lakes, weather, colors. It was good for me to get away.”

“I’m impressed. A couple of years? Jesus wept. Christ, what the suicide rate must be here. They must hang themselves on telephone poles after Labor Day.”

“You’re a city snob, Saul. Honest to God, you don’t have a sentimental bone between your ears. If you–”

“Yeah, don’t say it David. I came from poor. Doesn’t mean I have to send Hallmarks every Christmas to remind everyone. I know from poor. But this… this is like a cavity in the back of your jaw.”

“I want to show you where–”

“Where you painted Gloam? Yeah. I know. You know I want to see it. We’ve made more money from that painting than this place has seen since Eisenhower. Show me. Make me a believer. But don’t tell me you’re coming back here to live. That would kill me, David. Kill me like a fucking knife to my throat.”

“I’m considering it.”

“Jesus wept.”

“Yeah. And so will you when I show you this place.”