Everyone Waits for the Other Side to Fix It First

🎤 Audio Overview

🎤 Song For This Story

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Act I – The Porch Consensus

The matter began, as most serious civic matters in Sequatchie Crossing did, on Eugene “Boot” Barnes’ front porch, sometime between the second and third telling of the same story.

Boot rocked gently, boot heel tapping against a board that had long ago given up pretending to be level. Daisy the hound lay stretched across the porch, one ear flicking occasionally at flies or opinions.

Clovis Strickland stood in the yard with a clipboard, a pencil tucked behind his ear, and the unmistakable posture of a man who had decided something was worth documenting before anyone else had the chance to misremember it.

“Well,” Boot said, leaning back, “somebody’s gonna have to fix it.”

“That’s been established,” Clovis replied, scribbling something that looked less like writing and more like a man drawing conclusions in advance. “Day one: agreement that ‘something must be done.’”

Mabel Dean Ashcroft, seated in a wicker chair that had outlived three porch renovations and one mayor, shook her head without lifting her eyes from her knitting.

“Y’all been sayin’ that same sentence for three weeks now,” she muttered.

Across the yard, two goats stood on either side of a split-rail fence. They stared at each other with the intensity of beings who believed motion might imply weakness.

Neither moved.

Boot leaned forward. “Now hold on. I was fixin’ to get up yesterday.”

“You didn’t,” Mabel said.

“Well,” Boot replied, settling back, “I wasn’t about to start somethin’ they oughta finish.”

Clovis perked up. “Clarify ‘they.’”

Boot waved vaguely toward the horizon, which in Sequatchie Crossing served as both a geographical boundary and a conceptual one.

“You know. Them.”

Clovis nodded, satisfied. “Documented. ‘Them’ expected to initiate corrective action.”

Daisy sighed.

From down the road came the faint rumble of a truck slowing unnecessarily, the driver leaning out to observe the porch, as if waiting to see whether this might finally be the day something happened.

It was not.

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Act II – Town Hall Alignment

By the time the matter reached Town Hall, it had already acquired the tone of something long-standing and the shape of something nobody quite remembered starting.

Sheriff Peeler stood at the front, hat in hand, as if unsure whether the situation required authority or just patience.

“We’re all agreed,” he said, “this situation needs addressing.”

“Absolutely,” said Trixie Jo Bartlett from the second row, adjusting her sunglasses despite being indoors. “But not by me first.”

Tiffany Annette Roark nodded vigorously. “Same. I’m prepared to respond. I am not prepared to initiate.”

Shelley Fawn Wexler raised a hand. “I propose we create a framework for mutual action.”

Clovis, already stationed near the wall with his clipboard, interjected. “We are currently at Day 12 of mutual acknowledgment without unilateral engagement.”

“Thank you, Clovis,” said Pastor Arnold Peeler, stepping forward with the calm authority of a man accustomed to preaching to people who believed agreement counted as action. “Friends, surely there is a path where one side takes a small step, trusting the other to follow.”

Silence.

Then Boot cleared his throat from the back.

“I was gonna take that step,” he said.

“When?” asked Ricky Travis “RT” Mullins.

Boot hesitated. “Soon as I saw them takin’ theirs.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the room.

“That’s fair,” said Santiago “Sonny” Morales. “You don’t want to get ahead of things.”

Officer Kenny Joe Teeter leaned toward Sheriff Peeler. “Feels like a standstill, sir.”

Sheriff Peeler nodded. “Feels organized, though.”

In the corner, Maggie Sue Dillard whispered to Lurleen Davenport, “This is the most coordinated inaction I’ve ever seen.”

“Professional,” Lurleen replied.

Outside the open window, the two goats remained in their positions, their standoff now attracting a small audience of children who were learning, without instruction, how things worked.

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Act III – The Diner Debate

At the diner, the issue matured into something more refined: a debate.

Mister Wade Langston stirred his coffee with the precision of a man who believed solutions could be coaxed out through repetition.

“It’s simple,” he said. “They fix their part, we fix ours.”

Evelyn Grace Tipton adjusted her glasses. “And if they don’t?”

“Then we wait,” Wade said.

Dr. Neil Cowgill leaned back in his chair. “From a clinical perspective, this resembles a shared refusal to act under conditions of mutual expectation.”

“Sounds like marriage,” Chester Ray Blevins added from behind his newspaper.

Doughboy Teeter laughed. “Nah, in marriage somebody eventually caves.”

Coach Freddie Stubblefield tapped the table. “In football, if both teams refuse to move, the game ends.”

“This ain’t football,” Maggie Sue said.

“No,” Coach replied, “it’s worse. At least in football there’s a clock.”

Clovis entered, clipboard ready. “Day 15. New development: discussion of hypothetical action contingent on prior action by unspecified opposing party.”

Shelley Fawn Wexler sighed. “We need a timeline.”

“We have one,” Clovis said. “It’s not moving.”

At the counter, Trixie Jo leaned toward Tiffany Annette. “What if we just… started?”

Tiffany recoiled slightly. “Without them?”

Trixie Jo paused. “Well… no.”

“Exactly,” Tiffany said.

The waitress refilled cups no one had emptied, the coffee growing stronger with each round, as if trying to compensate for the absence of progress.

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Act IV – The Church Appeal

Sunday arrived with the quiet authority of expectation.

Pastor Arnold Peeler stood at the pulpit, hands resting gently on the wood worn smooth by years of appeals to better judgment.

“Friends,” he began, “there are moments in life where doing what is right must not depend on what others do first.”

A murmur moved through the congregation, the kind reserved for ideas that sounded good in theory.

Sister Lila Mae “Hallelujah” Pruitt stood up.

“Preach it!” she declared. “But also, let’s be reasonable.”

Pastor Peeler nodded cautiously. “Reasonable how?”

“Well,” she said, “we don’t want to get ahead of folks.”

Boot sat in the pew, hands clasped, nodding thoughtfully.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about actin’,” he whispered to Sonny.

“Same,” Sonny whispered back.

“Just feels like the right time’s waitin’ on somethin’,” Boot added.

“Probably them,” Sonny said.

From the back, Mabel shook her head again, slower this time, as if the repetition itself had become a form of commentary.

Outside the church window, the goats had shifted slightly.

One blinked.

The other blinked back.

Neither moved.

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Act V – The Sheriff’s Office Strategy

Sheriff Peeler convened a smaller group at the office, hoping reduced numbers might increase the likelihood of movement.

“Alright,” he said, “we’re gonna simplify this.”

Officer Kenny Joe Teeter stood ready, pen hovering over a notepad.

“Option one,” the sheriff continued, “we act first.”

The room tensed.

“Option two,” he said, “we wait for them.”

The room relaxed.

“Let’s discuss option two,” said RT Mullins.

Clovis raised a hand. “Day 18. Preference for continued observation over initiation.”

Shelley Fawn Wexler leaned forward. “What if we signal readiness?”

“How?” asked Tiffany Annette.

“By not acting, but clearly being prepared to act,” Shelley said.

“That’s what we’re already doin’,” Boot said proudly.

Sheriff Peeler sighed. “That’s not a signal. That’s a state.”

“Consistent, though,” Sonny noted.

Daisy wandered into the room, circled twice, and lay down, embodying the spirit of the meeting more accurately than any of its participants.

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Act VI – The Crenshaw Clarification

Brett and Alyssa Crenshaw, newer to town but already fluent in its rhythms, attempted to clarify matters.

“So,” Alyssa said carefully, “everyone agrees something should be done.”

“Yes,” said everyone.

“And everyone is willing to do it.”

“Yes,” they said again.

“But only after someone else starts.”

A pause.

“Yes,” they said, with less enthusiasm.

Brett nodded slowly. “So… nothing will happen.”

“That’s not fair,” Trixie Jo said. “We’re all ready.”

“Extremely ready,” Tiffany added.

Clovis updated his notes. “Day 22. Readiness remains high. Action remains theoretical.”

Mabel looked up briefly. “Y’all got a whole town sittin’ on ‘about to.’”

Outside, the goats had attracted a third goat, which observed the situation and chose not to participate.

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Act VII – The Escalation of Waiting

By Day 25, waiting had become an activity in its own right.

People scheduled it.

They discussed it.

They improved it.

Maggie Sue Dillard organized a “Preparedness Without Prematurity” workshop.

Lurleen Davenport brought refreshments that no one ate until someone else did.

Coach Freddie tried to introduce drills.

“On my whistle,” he said, “we all take one step forward.”

The whistle blew.

No one moved.

“Good discipline,” Coach said, impressed despite himself.

Clovis recorded the event. “Day 25. Coordinated non-movement achieved.”

Boot stood, finally, on his porch.

“Well,” he said, “I reckon it’s time.”

Everyone leaned forward.

Boot took a step.

Then paused.

“Hold on,” he said, peering into the distance. “I ain’t seen them yet.”

He sat back down.

Daisy didn’t even open her eyes.

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Act VIII – The Mutual Recognition

At Town Hall again, a new realization emerged.

“We’re doin’ the same thing they are,” Shelley Fawn Wexler said.

A hush fell.

“That can’t be right,” Wade Langston said.

Clovis checked his notes. “It is.”

“So they’re waitin’ on us,” Tiffany said.

“And we’re waitin’ on them,” Trixie Jo added.

Mabel spoke without looking up. “Congratulations. Y’all found symmetry.”

Pastor Peeler stepped forward. “Then perhaps the answer is clear. Someone must break the cycle.”

Boot stood again.

“I will,” he said.

The room held its breath.

Boot looked around.

“Well… after I see if they’re serious.”

A collective exhale.

Sheriff Peeler removed his hat. “We have achieved perfect balance.”

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Act IX – The Resolution That Wasn’t

Day 30 arrived with ceremony.

Clovis had prepared a chart.

“Thirty days of mutual waiting,” he announced. “A record.”

Applause.

Outside, the goats still faced each other.

One shifted its weight.

The other adjusted its stance.

Neither moved forward.

Boot stepped off the porch again.

“This is it,” he said.

Everyone watched.

Boot took a step.

Paused.

Looked around.

“I just don’t wanna jump the gun,” he said.

He stepped back.

Mabel closed her eyes briefly.

Pastor Peeler bowed his head.

Daisy rolled onto her back.

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Epilogue – The Strategy of Stillness

In Sequatchie Crossing, the issue remained.

It was discussed.

It was acknowledged.

It was respected.

It was not fixed.

Both sides agreed that the other side should begin.

Both sides remained ready.

Both sides waited.

The goats eventually wandered off—not because one yielded, but because something else caught their attention.

The town noted this as progress, though no one could say why.

Clovis filed his notes under “Ongoing.”

Boot continued to consider action.

Mabel continued to shake her head.

Pastor Peeler continued to preach.

And somewhere, just beyond the edge of town, “them” waited, certain that Sequatchie Crossing would make the first move.

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Disclaimer

No actions were taken in the making of this story.

All responsibility remains conditional.

Any resemblance to real inaction is purely intentional.

At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.

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