Shawn Harwell Wants to Give You a "Tweak"

This is Shawn Harwell. He lives in Cincinatti, Ohio with his wife Gretchen. There, in the land of the closely-contested election, he writes screenplays, fiction, graphic novels, and whatever else comes to mind. Fresh to the Smackdown, Shawn has written a bit of short fiction entitled "Tweak" for this month's Smackdown challenge. Five, count them FIVE entries for the month of March! Yet another new record. The bar has been set highly for April. We may yet get another entry before the end of the month, who knows? Anyway, on to Harwell's story "Tweak" which comes from the so-subtle-you-gotta-read-it-twice school of fiction writing. Enjoy, and then lay the hammer down. Or should I say ... smackdown?

Tweak
by Shawn Harwell

Tweak stood with her hands in her pockets while her husband cleaned the fish he'd caught. He was on one knee and he'd had to steady himself a few times in the slippery clay that gave way to the lake. The clay was bright red from the rain and the blood from the fish made her think the two things belonged together, the dirt and the blood, the way babies belonged to their mommas once they were pushed out of the womb. Robin cut the head of the fish off and tossed it into the water. It wasn't big enough to make a splash and she knew he'd have to catch three more before they'd begin to feel like they'd ate. Still, it was something and there'd been days now when they'd gone without. For that Tweak reckoned she was grateful.

"We need dry wood to cook this with." Robin wiped the knife blade against his pants leg and held the handle out for Tweak. He didn't look at her. His other hand was busy spreading the bulk of the fish out flat so she'd be able to pierce it with a stick to cook. Tweak took the knife and it was warm with sweat and effort. She started off through the weeds to a scratch of woods that bordered the lake just below the hills where the old house sat atop like it was watching everything. There was no one in it now, she knew.

As she walked across the clearing, Tweak felt the summer rain soak from the grass and through the hole in her canvas shoes. Once, Robin had suggested she paint something on her shoes because it was something like she'd be good at. She never did and now they weren't suitable for painting; they weren't white, they weren't even a color. Her shoes were muddy and wet, and the one with the hole made her foot seem like it was shriveling inside. She entered the space with the trees and was greeted by shade and a swarm of gnats. The bugs were called out by the rain and they answered in numbers. Tweak moved a strand of hair from her mouth so she could breathe better. The air was less humid in the trees and it didn't have the same taste there. She moved past the cloud of gnats and something on the ground stabbed her foot through the hole in her shoe but she kept walking.

When she could see nothing but trees, Tweak thought she heard the sound of Robin casting his line once again into the lake. He'd stolen the rod from a shed and she'd watched him do it from behind a rusted out tractor that had snakes sitting in the well of a tire. Now he was catching her lunch with it and she would be responsible for the cooking. All around her were the remnants of limbs broken from trees after a heavy snow that came late, almost on Easter Sunday. She picked up one here and there and stepped on another to break it in half. The wood was dry. It would burn and they would eat.

She heard the sound of the line again and Tweak turned back to the direction of the lake. She could no longer see the water and imagined it as he saw it. Robin would look at the water and not see the muddy bottom that kicked around in wide swaths spurred up by the rain. He wouldn't see the water bugs take in the sun or the turtle on its back, just at the shoreline, waiting to die and be eaten. He wouldn't notice the fox panting down the hill hungry for frog eggs congealed at the surface. He wouldn't see the sun escape on the water in a reflection that looked like something she'd paint on a shoe. He wouldn't see any of it, Tweak knew. Instead, he'd see a fish, a meal, and then he'd see them run real far off toward a dream he'd had that he'd swore would one day come true. For her part, she'd believed him then.

Robin said something in the distance that made Tweak drop the wood she'd collected. Unburdened, her arms felt free and long. Behind her Robin yelled again. The gnats had followed her now and made noise in her ear. She swatted at them but knew they wouldn't stop until the sun went down. Behind her the lake was invisible in Robin's eyes. In front of her the woods held steady to the earth. Tweak would walk. Then, maybe, she would run.