Rain or Shine by Mary Miller We smoke pot at her kitchen table with the door open for ventilation and talk about antidepressants, which ones make it hard to get off. We decide they all make it difficult, some impossible. Then her husband yells from the living room about needing something and she yells back, louder than necessary. It's quiet for a minute and then he yells again. Beer, he needs a beer, and will she get it for him since she's closer? She sighs and hoists herself up, leaves me sitting there alone with the walls too far apart. I listen to their voices bounce back and forth and wait. Her husband doesn't say much but he always looks like he's chewing on something large and tough inside his head. One time she told me that he wanted to swing, that he was trying to talk her into swinging, and it's all I can think about when I'm around him: how he wants to have sex with other women, how I'm probably at the top of his list of potentials. "Want a beer? Walt doesn't need any more," she says, standing in front of the open fridge. I nod my head yes and she grabs a couple and brings them to the table. "He got off early. The rain." "Thank God my husband works twelve hours a day. Rain or shine." "What's he do again?" "Power Company." "Oh, that's right," she says, and something about the way she says it reminds me that I don't like her much, that I only hang around because she calls, because there's all this time to kill and I have a tendency to search the apartment for clues when I'm left alone too long. "Walt's dad is supposed to be getting him a job at the mill. Something in management." "That sounds good," I say. "Well, we'll see. My fingers are crossed." Walt comes in and raises his chin at me as a greeting. He opens the fridge and his neck starts moving side-to-side and then he starts pulling out drawers. Lacey says, "They're gone. We drank `em all," but really she loaded them into the cooler and stuck the cooler in the carport. "There's no way," he says, and she tells him that there is most certainly a way, and he retreats into the living room a defeated man. When Lacey goes to check on the babies, I bring him a beer. He smiles and I compliment his teeth. I want to kneel between his legs, listen to him gasp as his children, like a couple of afterthoughts, sleep upstairs. But instead I ask what he's watching. "Something on Hitler. Thanks," he says, holding up the can before taking a swallow. "No problem," I say, and then I walk back into the kitchen and sit at the table and fiddle with my lighter until his wife returns. All content in SmokeLong Quarterly copyright 2003-2008 by its authors.
	Mary Miller works at a children's shelter in Mississippi. Read the interview.
	Issue Twelve (March 15, 2006): Voodoo by Gary Cadwallader «» Prey by Myfanwy Collins «» The Rest of Your Life by Sarah Leavitt «» Mice Getting the Points by Robert Lopez «» The Cellist by Antonios Maltezos «» Rain or Shine by Mary Miller «» Knowing Love by Tristan Moss «» Shrapnel by Chivas Sandage «» Blessed by Tom Saunders «» Ally's First Step by Paul Silverman «» Everybody in Holland Is Mad at Me by Andrew Tibbetts «» Friendship / Love by Ania Vesenny «» The Work Week by Joseph Young «» Bungee Jump by Jamie Zerndt «» Interviews: Gary Cadwallader «» Myfanwy Collins «» Kathy Fish «» Sarah Leavitt «» Robert Lopez «» Antonios Maltezos «» Mary Miller «» Tristan Moss «» Chivas Sandage «» Tom Saunders «» Paul Silverman «» Ania Vesenny «» Joseph Young «» Jamie Zerndt «» Cover Art "Out with the OLD and in with the NEW OLD" by Marty D. Ison «» Letter From the Editor