A. Blinken

My cousin’s daughter, a fresh faced lass of sixteen, caught a belly full of baby from a local 30 something alcoholic and motorcycle freak. I hope that’s all she caught, but statistics are against her. Anyway, Granny Wise called me on the phone and said, "I need a ride to the city." I hate going down canyon, but Granny likes it because we go through the stomping grounds of her youth. It’s also where her nugget buyer lives; she doesn’t trust anyone closer. "Why do you need to go?" "I want to give something to Tally." I thought as much and didn’t want her to cash nuggets in to give to the pregnant cousin. "It’s a lousy time of year to go down, Granny, there are cops all over the highway." "A.B., don’t bullshit your grandma, what have you got against the girl? She’s pregnant and has no man, she needs family help." "In the first place, she’s pregnant because she wouldn’t respect her mother’s wishes." My cousin had been struggling to get her through school. Granny laughed, "now, help me out here, boy, are you a social worker or a Catholic priest, I can’t remember." "It isn’t that, Granny, it’s that the girl brought the trouble on herself. The county will help her, or let her dad help her." "He has another family now, he ain’t going to help her, and we don’t want county help. As for bringing trouble on, who are you to say?" "Come on, Granny, you aren’t going to condone teen pregnancy." "I wasn’t going to, but now I think I will. Tally’s a sweet girl with a nice behind that’s going to bacon in about ten years. She can’t count past five if she’s picking her nose; were you hoping she’d become a stock broker?" I snorted into the phone, but wasn’t deterred. "Why didn’t she find a nice guy and settle down? Why get inflated by the town social problem?" "Because she didn’t want a husband, she’s young, a baby is all she can handle right now. In a couple of years she’ll marry some dopey guy with a job and give him his own kids, but for now, she is looking forward to her little baby. I’m going to help her, and I don’t want people of your ilk ruining it for her. Will you take me to down canyon or do I have to ask Dooley?" "Get ready, I’ll take you... if you promise to wear your seatbelt." "Who are you now, a social worker, or a cop?" "I’m ilk," I said, hanging up the phone and getting my coat.