<\/p>\n
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SUNDAY CHILD EXCHANGE<\/strong><\/p>\n Joshua A. Jones<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong>Jason plopped down on his sagging mattress. The thread-bare pile of sheets and blankets slipped free from the warped pallet. Jason\u2019s neglected pit bull overwhelmed the trailer with its size and wet odor. He reached for his tired work boots. He bent the toe back on the left boot and sighed at the fissure running across the sole. He wondered how long he could go before his boss noticed the worn-out boots. He banged them together, and dried mud shattered onto the worn, stained carpet. It was a color he remembered old ladies going crazy over in the 1980\u2019s – mauve or mint or aqua, some shade that never made sense to him and that no one ever needed, except to match giant ruffled curtains.<\/p>\n Jason grabbed a ball cap and the half-empty can of tobacco. The container was too light for a Sunday morning. He mumbled, \u201cGod damnit.\u201d<\/p>\n The neighbors were shouting at each other in a language that Jason could not understand, an annoying language he assumed was from a country full of some type of brown people or another – people like them. He had once upset the woman why he mistook her for Mexican. “It was an honest mistake,” he told his buddies. Even after she cursed and spat in his face, he still had no idea from where they had come, but he was sure they were \u201cillegals.\u201d Whenever he spoke about them to friends and family, he always said, \u201cDon\u2019t get me wrong. I aint a racist. They\u2019s hard workers. But I think they should have to talk English.\u201d Jason went out to crank his truck, and narrowly missed the brown fellow\u2019s little car as it threw gravel and dust back at the trailer park and his sobbing wife. Jason assumed she was his wife, though there were no little brown kids.<\/p>\n Jason\u2019s old truck was beat to hell and back, but it got him where he needed to go.<\/p>\n It was loud and covered in work residue, inside and out. A metal toolbox, full of carpentry tools and fishing tackle, spanned the bed of the truck, sturdy against the back windshield. The toolbox was more than storage. It was proof that he was a man who works with his hands. In Nickajack County, a pick-up truck with a toolbox was a mandatory man-accessory. Crushed beer cans and fast food bags littered the truck bed, further testament to hard work. Brand new trucks, missing toolboxes and a few dents, were for insurance salesmen and bankers with boats. Jason\u2019s divorce lawyer, a man who didn’t hunt, fish, or own a boat or camper, drove a brand-new Ford F-250. Jason thought the lawyer’s truck was a pathetic waste.<\/p>\n Jason left his truck running so that it would be warm for the kids. He went inside.<\/p>\n Wind caught the mobile home’s fiberglass door and slammed out the cold and the muffled sound of a country song on the truck radio. In the living room, mounted deer heads, bass fish, and NASCAR memorabilia loomed over mismatched furniture. The sofa and recliner were hand-me-downs from Jason\u2019s brother and sister-in-law, who lived in Atlanta. The bookshelf was a $10, yard sale find – a good deal that was mostly empty. He\u00a0rubbed his hands over the kerosene space-heater and shivered. His six-year-old boy sat in the floor, a shoe on each hand.<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cDakota, put your shoes on. Now! We gotta go as soon as the truck gets warm.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota laid on the floor and kicked his legs. He whined, \u201cI\u2019m tryin\u2019, Diddy.\u201d Jason knew that a tantrum lay beneath Dakota\u2019s pouty mouth. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Dakota, then at his belt. Dakota stopped kicking.<\/p>\n Jason yelled down the hallway, \u201cSavannah, are you ready yet?\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah dragged her duffel bag behind her by its broken strap. She clicked away at her phone and said, \u201cGawd, yes, I\u2019m ready. You don\u2019t got to yell. I\u2019m standin\u2019 right here.\u201d Without missing a beat on her phone, she tossed long, straight, brown hair over a boney shoulder. Her usual thick, black eye liner covered her eyelids \u2013 the spoils from an argument that Savannah\u2019s mother had won against Jason. He feared Savannah was too pretty for her own good, and make-up wasn\u2019t making his job any easier. For the third time that weekend, Savannah asked, \u201cAnd when are you gonna buy me a new duffel bag? You can see it\u2019s broken.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell your mamma to use my child support to buy you a duffle bag.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhatever.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason didn\u2019t need Savannah to lift her eyes from the phone to know\u00a0she was rolling them.<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cPut your phone down and look at me when I\u2019m talkin\u2019 to you.\u201d<\/p>\n She shoved her phone in her back pocket, jutted her head out toward him with her hands in the air. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n Jason hated that maneuver more than her eye rolling. He closed his eyes and clinched his jaw.<\/p>\n \u201cHelp your brother with his shoes so we can get goin\u2019 before we\u2019re late. I don\u2019t feel like hearin\u2019 your mamma\u2019s crap today.\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah sat down in the floor and said, \u201cDakota, put your shoes on and quit actin\u2019 like you don\u2019t know how. You\u2019ve been doin\u2019 your own shoes for at least six months. Here.\u201d She walked him through a refresher course. \u201cSee? Now you do the other one.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota obeyed her.<\/p>\n \u201cY\u2019all got all y\u2019all\u2019s stuff together?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYis,\u201d Savannah said.<\/p>\n Dakota hesitated.<\/p>\n Jason repeated, in a staccato rhythm, \u201cDakota, do you – have all your – stuff together?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYisss.\u201d Dakota began to cry.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with you, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah said, \u201cNothin\u2019. He\u2019s got to where he does that now cause he knows it gits attention.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you best hush up. That shit might work on your mamma, but it don\u2019t work on me. I ain\u2019t raisin\u2019 no pussy.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota said, \u201cBut I don\u2019t wanna go. I wanna stay here with you. I hate my other place where we have to live.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t hate nothin\u2019. Don\u2019t start that mess. You know how this goes. It don\u2019t matter if you wanna stay or I want you to stay or if your mamma wants you to. The Judge said every-other weekend, and the weekend\u2019s over. Now dry it up before I give\u00a0you somethin\u2019 to cry about. And answer me, \u2018yes or no,\u2019 do you or do you not have all your stuff together.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota said, \u201cYisssss. Gawd, quit asking me, already.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason snapped his fingers and said, \u201cBoy, we might be on the way out the door, but there\u2019s still time to wear that ass out with this belt.\u201d Jason pointed to his belt. \u201cYou better watch that attitude.\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah begged, \u201cCan we just go, already? I\u2019m supposed to meet Anastasia at two o\u2019clock to go over to Tyler\u2019s house.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho the hell is “Tyler”? Your mamma know about him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. Gawd, Diddy, I\u2019m not a slut.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWatch your mouth in front of your brother. And I didn\u2019t call you a slut. I just asked if your mamma has met \u2018im.\u201d<\/p>\n They looked away from each other. She went back to her phone.<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cWell, if y\u2019all got everything together, go git in the truck.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota asked, \u201cCan I take my PlayStation with me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHell no! If you want a PlayStation at your mamma\u2019s, you tell her to use the child support to buy y\u2019all one. I ain\u2019t sendin\u2019 this one over there for her to pawn, like everything else I get y\u2019all.\u201d Jason was still bitter about the four-wheeler she had sold. He had worked sixty-hour weeks for months to save for it the kids\u2019 Christmas from Santa.<\/p>\n Savannah pulled Dakota up from the worn carpet. \u201cCome on, Dakota. Let\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n The truck jostled over the pot-hole-pocked road between Killwood and Burtsville.<\/p>\n Killwood was a rural off-cast of the snootier small town, Burtsville. Neither was worth bragging about. Jason remembered when the road was paved for the first time. Ever since then, the smell of creosote and tar reminded him of hot, July dirt-bike rides to the swimming holes at the old quarries or to girls\u2019 houses whose parents were at work, where they’d make out to long-haired heavy metal bands that worshipped the devil, only coming up for air long enough to turn over or to rewind the cassette tape.<\/p>\n Neglected for decades, the road was in worse shape than when it was dirt. In Nickajack, a county where somehow even the best of economic times compounded the misery, repaving was out of the question. Jason\u2019s fellow voters accepted the fact that occasional renewal was reserved only for rich people in cities. Yet, with the loss of guns and the homosexual agenda as constant threats, they had a habit of voting against their own self-interests. Not much of anything had been updated in Killwood or Burtsville since Jason\u2019s childhood, except law enforcement strategies to battle meth, spice, and opioids.<\/p>\n A few miles from Jason\u2019s trailer park, they drove past the house where Jason grew up. When they divorced, his parents let it go to foreclosure. Since 1994, it was just another house. Jason\u2019s only attachment to the place was the memory of getting to third- base for the first time at his thirteenth birthday party. It was Jason\u2019s first and only boy\/girl party. His dad had \u201caccidentally\u201d left a six-pack out in the garage, and after all the girls left, the boys camped out, got drunk for the first time, and forgot the rest of the night. That was all that Jason wanted to remember about the house. Every time he drove by it, he wondered what Savannah and Tyler were up to and whether his ex-wife was paying enough attention.<\/p>\n Jason asked Savannah, \u201cYou like that boy, \u2018Tyler\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah blushed and turned her smile toward the mud-flaked passenger window. Jason chided her, \u201cYeah, looks like someone has a crush. How old is he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDiddy, hush! I don\u2019t even know if he likes me. We just been hangin\u2019 out. And\u00a0he\u2019s fifteen, if you must know.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota sang, \u201cSavannah and Ty-ler, sittin\u2019 in a tree. K-I-S-S-\u201c<\/p>\n Savannah tickled Dakota. \u201cYou hush, too, before I tell Diddy about that little Amy girl you been chasin\u2019 \u2018round the playground.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot-uh! You shut your face up!\u201d<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cBoy, you too young to be messin\u2019 with little girls.\u201d Jason was proud that his son was turning out to be a rough-and-tumble, womanizing, little redneck. No doubt, Dakota was the spitting-image of his father, from their dimpled chins and brown eyes to their obsession with hunting, cars, and girls. \u201cSavannah, what\u2019s your mamma think about this \u2018Tyler\u2019 boy?\u201d<\/p>\n She laughed out loud. \u201cYou can just call him \u2018Tyler.\u2019 You don\u2019t have to call him \u2018this Tyler boy,\u2019 like I\u2019m makin\u2019 up his name or somethin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, \u2018Tyler,\u2019 then. What\u2019s your mamma and Derrick thank about \u2018im? I\u2019m not sure how I feel \u2018bout you seein\u2019 a fifteen-year-old. I know what fifteen-year-old boys are thankin\u2019 about, and it ain\u2019t what church you go to.\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah said, \u201cDerrick ain\u2019t met \u2018im yit, but he works with his uncle. Mamma don\u2019t like his mamma. And for your information, Tyler goes to Shiloh Baptist.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThose Baptist boys are the ones I worry most about. Who\u2019s his mamma?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecky Jackson.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNawh, I guess your mama wouldn\u2019t care for Becky Jackson.\u201d Jason chuckled and thought back to his thirteenth birthday party and the game of \u201cSeven Minutes in Heaven\u201d that Becky Jackson had been all too proud to talk about around town, even a few years later after Jason had met the kids\u2019 mother.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not? She\u2019s nice,\u201d Savannah said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t need to worry about that. And I dit\u2019in ask you what your mamma thanks about his mamma. I asked what she thanks about that boy. Tyler.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know. She only met \u2018im once or twice. She likes \u2018im all right, I guess. She aint said otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason asked, \u201cHis mamma and diddy at home when you go over there?\u201d<\/p>\n She mumbled, \u201cYis.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHuh? That don\u2019t sound so certain. Don\u2019t lie to me. You been over there without his parents there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe. I don\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cDon\u2019t give me that \u2018maybe,\u2019 you either been alone with that boy or you aint?\u201d<\/p>\n She let out a heavy sigh and explained, \u201cGawd, I have <\/em>been over there without <\/em>his mamma and diddy, but I have not <\/em>been alone <\/em>with him. Anastasia\u2019s always been with me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFor some reason that don\u2019t make me feel better.\u201d Anastasia was a troublemaker. She had a pierced belly-button and had already been arrested twice for shoplifting at Wal Mart. Jason was sure that a teen pregnancy was in her future. \u201cYou don\u2019t be goin\u2019 over\u00a0there unless his parents are home, you hear me? Y\u2019all girls are too young to be in a house alone with a boy.\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah said, \u201cI\u2019m at home alone with Dakota all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota asked, \u201cWhat? What do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you worry about it, Squirt,\u201d Jason replied. \u201cSavannah, you understand\u00a0me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright, Diddy. Gawd.\u201d<\/p>\n They drove past Killwood High School where Jason and his ex-wife, Tammy, had dropped out, just before Savannah was born. He asked, \u201cWhen\u2019s your next volleyball game?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUhm. I think it\u2019s next Thursday, but I can\u2019t remember if it\u2019s at home or away.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell call me and let me know.\u201d<\/p>\n They both knew Jason wouldn\u2019t go.<\/p>\n \u201cAlright.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason asked Dakota, \u201cHow \u2018bout you, Squirt? You playin\u2019 basketball this season?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Dakota said. \u201cIf I play, will I still git to go huntin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, you\u2019ll have a lotta games and practices, but I\u2019m sure we\u2019ll git to go huntin\u2019 plenty. You need to play and get involved with sports. It\u2019ll help you do good in school.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota made a gagging sound and said, \u201cI hate school.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason had hated school, too, except for sports and girls. His bad grades were the trait that he hoped Dakota hadn\u2019t picked up. \u201cTough. You stuck with it for another twelve\u00a0years. And then college, unless you want to end up broke and workin\u2019 for other people like everybody else \u2018round here.\u201d<\/p>\n They rode in silence for the last few miles to the Burtsville McDonald\u2019s.<\/p>\n At 11:58 am, Jason pulled his rumbling truck into the McDonald\u2019s parking lot. Savannah worried that her clothes smelled like the cab. He parked near the back and the drive thru. On the other side of the lot, another man sat in a pick-up with two young children.<\/p>\n Jason looked around for Tammy and Derrick\u2019s new truck. Every time he thought about that truck, he wanted to punch Derrick in the face. He wished he could afford to take Tammy back to court to get the child support lowered. Then maybe he could have something nice. Tammy and Derrick didn\u2019t need the money, and Tammy spent the support on everything but the kids. She got her hair and nails done every week. She had a brand-new car. They had paid-off their double wide trailer with Tammy’s disability settlement. Jason looked ahead at nothing through the windshield while he adjusted the radio past church services. He stopped on a ball game.<\/p>\n Dakota asked, \u201cDiddy, can we get a ice cream?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, we can\u2019t git an <\/em>ice cream. You ain\u2019t even had lunch yit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan we go in and play on the indoor playground?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. Just wait here. Your mamma\u2019ll be here in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota tried again. \u201cPleeeeaase.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo! Now don\u2019t ask me again!\u201d<\/p>\n Jason turned through more radio channels to a different game.<\/p>\n Savannah scrolled through her social media newsfeeds.<\/p>\n Dakota picked his nose and fidgeted.<\/p>\n Thirty-minutes passed. Jason looked at the mirrors again and noticed two other families making the Sunday child exchange.<\/p>\n Jason muttered, \u201cWhere the hell is she?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know why you\u2019re surprised,\u201d Savannah said. \u201cShe\u2019s always late. She\u2019ll probably be late for her own funeral. I texted her, but she hasn\u2019t texted me back. Why don\u2019t you just call her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI need to save my minutes, in case I get a call about a job.\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah rolled her eyes back to her phone. \u201cWell, I need to save my minutes too, in case Anastasia calls.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, she needs to come on. I gotta git over to Mamaw\u2019s and split some fire wood before it gets dark.\u201d He scanned through the radio stations and landed on a country music countdown show.<\/p>\n After twenty-minutes of rowdy men singing songs about being manly and getting it on with denim-clad, drunk, hot chicks in giant pick-up trucks, parked by the river or a bonfire, everyone’s patience was waning.<\/p>\n Dakota said, \u201cDiddy, I\u2019m hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason looked out the truck mirrors and said to no one, \u201cGoddamnit, where is she?\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah said, \u201cI\u2019m gittin\u2019 kinda hungry, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour mamma\u2019ll be here in a minute, and she can git y\u2019all somethin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m staaaarrrvin\u2019,\u201d Dakota said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou ain\u2019t starvin\u2019. Now hush. If she ain\u2019t here in fifteen minutes, she can just come pick y\u2019all up at Mamaw\u2019s, and we can eat a ham sandwich or somethin\u2019 there. Tired of waitin\u2019 on her sorry ass.\u201d<\/p>\n Ten minutes later, Savannah said, \u201cFinally. There they are.\u201d<\/p>\n Derrick parked beside them. Derrick and Jason acknowledged each other with a\u00a0nod.<\/p>\n Tammy got out and waddled her high-heeled boots over to Jason\u2019s truck. Her jeans labored to contain twenty pounds too many. The embroidered back pockets mimicked the pattern in her frumpy sweater. Tammy carried her usual full face of dollar store makeup.<\/p>\n Jason and the kids got out.<\/p>\n Derrick cracked his window open and spat out tobacco.<\/p>\n Jason asked, \u201cWhere the hell\u2019ve y\u2019all been?\u201d<\/p>\n Tammy said, \u201cNow don\u2019t start with me.\u201d She lit a light cigarette and inhaled it between stained teeth. She exhaled towards his face and said, \u201cI dit\u2019in mean to be late.\u201d She picked at her front teeth with a bright red nail.<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cThe judge said twelve-o-clock. Not twelve-o-one, not twelve-fifteen, and not one-fifteen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, it\u2019s not my fault. We had to drop off Derrick\u2019s kids at Waffle House, and Christy was late, so that made us late.\u201d<\/p>\n Savannah lingered between the tailgates of the trucks. Between text messages, she spotted a friend from school and tried to disguise herself with earphones and her hoodie.<\/p>\n No one watched Dakota\u2019s game of holding the straps to his backpack in one hand while kicking it up in the air over and over.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t give a shit what Derrick has to do with his kids. If droppin\u2019 off his kids to Christy makes you late, maybe you need to thank about pickin\u2019 \u2018em up without Derrick.\u201d<\/p>\n Tammy replied, \u201cCan we not do this again? In front of the kids? In front of the whole town?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey. I ain\u2019t doin\u2019 nothin\u2019 but tellin\u2019 you how it is.\u201d<\/p>\n Tammy turned to Savannah in a slow inhale of frustration and nicotine and said, \u201cSavannah, baby, find Dakota and y\u2019all git in the truck and let me talk to your Diddy a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n Dakota waded into a muddy storm run-off ditch to play with another young boy, also ignored by his arguing, divorced parents.<\/p>\n The other boy said, \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDakota. I\u2019m six.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m seven.\u201d He shook Dakota\u2019s hand. \u201cMy name\u2019s Carlos.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy diddy drives that truck,\u201d Dakota said. \u201cThe one with the tool box.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy papa drives that car.\u201d He pointed to an old sports car where his father and mother gestured aggressively in an argument that the boys could not hear.<\/p>\n Dakota looked over the boys\u2019 shoulder at Tammy and Jason\u2019s argument. He looked down at the mud and thought of the bullshit his dad talked so much about. He always wondered why people care whether bulls shit. He asked the boy, \u201cWhere do you go to school?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBurtsville.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI go to Killwood.\u201d Dakota studied the boy\u2019s dark features. He asked, “Are you a Mexican?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. I\u2019m American,” Carlos said.<\/p>\n \u201cOh. I\u2019m American, too!\u201d Dakota kicked up an eruption of water that splashed them both. \u201cHey! Watch this!\u201d He jumped up as high as he could and plunged his feet into the water. Mud and runoff showered the boys\u2019 giggles.<\/p>\n Tammy looked past Jason in time to see the mud-slinging. \u201cDakota Matthew Smith! Git your butt over here, mister. Now!\u201d<\/p>\n Carlos\u2019s father heard the commpotion and called Carlos to his car.<\/p>\n Tammy inspected Dakota. \u201cLook at you, Dakota! You are covered in mud! Now we gonna have to go home and change you and we supposed to go straight to Mamaw and Papaw\u2019s. Savannah, watch him and y\u2019all git in the truck with Derrick.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s got clean clothes in his backpack,\u201d Jason said.<\/p>\n Tammy stomped out her cigarette. \u201cWell at least you did something right. Thank you for washing his clothes.”<\/p>\n Jason wasn’t listening.<\/p>\n “Lord, that boy is a mess.\u201d Tammy took a sip of her energy drink. \u201cHow\u2019s your mama an\u2019 \u2018em anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright, I reckon.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason\u2019s mother never cared for Tammy. Tammy never cared for his mother.<\/p>\n Tammy faked it in front of the kids, but their Mamaw never held back about Tammy\u2019s shortcomings. The first time Tammy met his mother was the night they told Jason\u2019s parents that she was pregnant with Savannah. Jason and most of his cousins had also been born out of wedlock to teenage parents, so the thirty-five-year-old Mr. and Mrs. Smith weren\u2019t surprised or offended by the news. They weren\u2019t happy, but they also were not surprised. Jason\u2019s mother had always assumed she\u2019d be a grandmother before forty.<\/p>\n Tammy said, \u201cWell tell \u2018em I\u2019m thinkin\u2019 about \u2018em. I heard your Papaw ain\u2019t doin\u2019 too good.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe just got out of the hospital, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey don\u2019t know what\u2019s wrong with him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey waitin\u2019 on a bunch of tests to come back.\u201d Jason was annoyed. \u201cJust old age, I reckon.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell tell him, I\u2019m prayin\u2019 for him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPsssht. Since when you turned into the prayin\u2019 type?\u201d He thought back to fucking her behind the high school gym when they were sixteen. Nine months later, Savannah was born. The intervening years had snowballed into slim tolerance for the consequences.<\/p>\n \u201cI pray!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShiiit. I\u2019ll believe it when I see it. Just because you post about \u2018unspoken prayer requests\u2019 on Facebook don\u2019t make you a Christian.\u201d<\/p>\n Tammy raised her hands to the sky, and prayed aloud, \u201cDear Lord, please, baby Jesus, let Jason have brought his damn child support check for once.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHar, har, har. You\u2019re so funny.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, do <\/em>you have your child support check?\u201d<\/p>\n Jason had been dreading the question all morning. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSurprise, surprise. Well, where the hell is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll git it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOn Tuesday, when it\u2019s due.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah right,\u201d Tammy said.<\/p>\n \u201cI said you\u2019ll git it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was hopin\u2019 you\u2019d bring it today so I don\u2019t have to drive back to town later in the week.\u201d<\/p>\n Jason said, \u201cWell I don\u2019t have it today. It\u2019s been rainin\u2019, and I ain\u2019t had no work.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDerrick\u2019s been able to work, and it\u2019s been rainin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDerrick lays carpet and works inside<\/em>. I do the real work building the houses\u00a0outside<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Tammy said, \u201cYeah right, some big man you are. You can\u2019t even take care of your kids. Derrick pays his child support. I don\u2019t understand why you\u2019re always late.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause y\u2019all got your disability check, plus his income. It\u2019s only me workin\u2019 at my house. I don\u2019t git to sit around all day, do nothin\u2019, and collect money from the government.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell if I could work, I would.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou can <\/em>work,\u201d Jason said. \u201cYou\u2019re just too fucking lazy and lied to git on disability. And that\u2019s just sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have a bad back from the nursin\u2019 home, and you know it!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhatever.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right, \u2018whatever.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n Another couple\u2019s shouting interrupted them from the opposite end of the parking lot. Their toddler wailed while the father struggled to move the car seat from his car to the mother\u2019s.<\/p>\n Tammy said, \u201cWell, we\u2019re gonna go on then. Don\u2019t be late on that child support; you hear me? I need it to buy Savannah new volleyball shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe just got volleyball shoes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo. That was last year. See, you don\u2019t even remember nothin\u2019 about your kids.\u201d<\/p>\n As he walked away, Jason said, \u201cWhatever. I\u2019ll see you Tuesday.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou better.\u201d<\/p>\n Derrick and Jason nodded at each other.<\/p>\n Derrick spat out a stream of tobacco and drove away with Tammy and the kids.<\/p>\n Jason\u2019s truck wouldn\u2019t start. He waited a few minutes before trying again. Another expensive repair was the last thing he needed.<\/p>\n A burly man with his kids drove up in another beat-up truck. The back windshield had a gun rack. The bed had a toolbox. The man was almost too large for the truck. Jason recognized him from somewhere. He couldn\u2019t remember if he knew him from when he was nineteen and worked at the chicken plant or if it was from school. They nodded at each other.<\/p>\n A faded hatchback pulled up behind them, and a gaunt woman with frazzled hair and a frown took her kids from the burly man’s truck and left without saying a word. The man looked at Jason, grinned through his beard, and shook his head. He laughed as he pulled out from the parking space.<\/p>\n Jason tried to start the truck again. He noticed a tired mother, a few cars down, with three children. He wondered how many families meet there every Sunday. The truck finally turned over. He sighed with relief.<\/p>\n As he drove away, Jason made eye contact with Carlos\u2019s father, interrupting for a moment the argument that the man was having with Carlos\u2019s mother. Jason didn\u2019t need to speak the language to know exactly why they were shouting. He gave the man a nod of solidarity.<\/p>\n On the road home, Jason thought about the week ahead. He ciphered the week\u2019s potential: how much money he needed for lunch; how many cans of spaghetti-o\u2019s were left; the power bill; and the child support. He added up the two small jobs set for tomorrow morning, and he hoped that if the weather held out, he could do a small project on Tuesday morning and get over to Tammy and Derrick\u2019s house in time to pay the child support.<\/p>\n He wondered if he could put off the past-due power bill until the end of the week. He wondered how much it\u2019d cost to take Tammy back to court. The idea of a lawyer and more court made him nauseous.<\/p>\n He hoped his Mamaw might have something to settle his stomach before he chopped the firewood.<\/p>\n Jason clicked through the radio in search of the local weather report and hoped for a prediction for a solid week of work.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n Sunday Child Exchange Copyright \u00a9 2020 Joshua Aaron Jones<\/p>\n Joshua A. Jones is Visiting Assistant Professor, Indiana University McKinney School of Law. He is the author of a number of short stories and producer of several documentaries and the GLAAD Media Award-winning reality television show, Strut<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n