Eric Paul Shaffer: Small Town Affairs

Small Town Affairs

When he started dating his brother’s wife, everything went to hell.

I guess dating isn’t really the right word. He was having an affair

with her, and they weren’t careful enough to conceal their love.

They rubbed against each other at family barbecues and kissed

each other goodbye a little too long after church. They met

“accidentally” at the mall for long lingering lunches at IHOP.

When the romance was finally revealed, everybody in town was

surprised. Ladies whispered in beauty salons, and pickups idled

in the middle of Ash Street, driver’s door to driver’s door,

as gossip crossed the center line, spreading like a lemonade stain

on a picnic tablecloth. Everybody knew both men, from boy

to man, and they knew them well. He and his brother were

brothers. They did everything together. They hunted moose

and mink. Together, they fished and flew radio-controlled

model airplanes. One had a Hellcat, and the other a biplane,

but nobody could remember which had what. They bought

the same car, well, not the same car, but the same model,

racing each other on Main Street like a drunken fraternity

of two. Dad was proud they were men’s men, but they were

Mama’s boys and never argued about who Mother loved best

while forking down three slices of Mom’s Dutch apple pie

every Fourth of July. After the inevitable, the sheriff asked

why he would do such a thing to a brother he’d loved all his life.

He said, and I quote, “Love means nothing when you’re in love.”

Eric Paul Shaffer